I hit her.
Square across the temple when I wound my hand back, and my fucking god... she fell.
Brielle went straight down onto her back, went unconscious, and all I did was stand there and fucking die inside.
I didn’t drop beside her, cry for her, help her.
I was frozen, unmoving.
What’s that say about me?
My head lifts on its own, meeting the eyes of a monster’s in the mirror on the wall, and the person staring back can’t face himself.
He’s weak, suffocating, red-painted palm prints smeared along his neck, and matching the shade stained across his hands and arms and clothes.
My clothes.
I wish it were mine, pooled at my feet and allowing me to drown in it, because I sure as fuck don’t deserve to stand here right now.
So, I walk away, into the hall where my family stands with wide, worried eyes, but I don’t pause beside them, and they don’t dare to try to stop me.
But she does.
My name is whispered from behind, and it’s a song that sears my soul.
It’s the softest, gentlest voice, the calm I don’t possess but desperately need, crave, and want.
I feel it tugging at my insides, allowing the smallest bit of air into my throat, reviving my lungs.
Breathing life into a fuckin’ zombie.
My mind refuses, but my body spins, facing the way I’ve just come from.
My chest caves in, hollows out.
Tears the fuck open.
My girl, my baby, fuck. She stands in the doorway, leaning on it for support because I’m offering her none.
She reaches for me... but I don’t reach back.
I turn and give her mine.
Hours must pass, because the next thing my eyes are peeling open and it’s nightfall. I know I’m sitting on the fucking ground, fisting the neck of the bottle, so fuck it, I tip the bitch to my lips, but nothing comes out. I glare at the gold-flecked thing.
Who drank it all?
I toss it to the side, my arm falling with it, and slump against the tree, but the thing moves, sending me flat onto my back.
Fucking moving tree.
I chuckle and attempt to push up, but my arms ain’t havin’ it, so the ground it is.
I stare at the stars, and when I find the Little Dipper, the Ursa fucking Minor she talked about, my fuckin’ chest plate cracks. Wide the fuck open.
Or that’s what it feels like.
After our night on the trampoline, I realized something I should have long before that—she loves the sky, and all that it holds. So, when she was gone, I looked up some shit and figured out how to spot the things she searches for in the dark. I had to know more about what she loved and why.
They look like the thing that comes in the Easter dye kits Maybell used to buy us after it’s been good and used, fucked-up shaped and bent at the handle. Don’t know what they mean or stand for, but I bet she does.
I was gonna steal her, get her out in the night again so we could find these fuckers, and then I’d sit back and stare at her while she told me all about ‘em.
I wonder what she’s doin’ now?
Staring at the stars?
Smiling at the shades of blue?
Crying into her pillow?
There’s a hitch in my gut and it rises into my throat, creating a tight strain.
Worry.
Fear.
Two things Brays aren’t supposed to be, but maybe I’m the weak link.
The fraudulent fool among superior souls.
Destined to fail.
To fall.
I’m fucking falling.
Into oblivion.
My throat closes, and I clench my jaw.
My head pounds so hard I grow dizzy, but the pain is still there, and I don’t want it.
Can’t take it.
It’s intense and motherfucking unbearable.
I’m a weak bitch.
A piece of shit.
I hook my shoe into the bag at my feet and tug it up.
I dig into the black plastic bag and pull out a new bottle.
If I get drunk enough, maybe I’ll forget those nasty little facts.
I wonder how much it would take to convince myself I’m not in love with the girl I have to let go? That I haven’t loved her since before I realized it.
That pushing my baby away isn’t about to fuck me?
Wreck me?
Fucking break me?
Because it is.
Brielle
Once I get home, it’s late, but I’m unable to fall asleep, and when the sun comes up and through my window, my head only pounds harder, my mind running crazy.
When I first got here, I was buzzing and each day my happiness grew, but this morning all I feel is tired and unsure.
Back at my aunt’s, it was easy to control my emotions, to limit my body’s impulses and internal reactions. The simple way to do so was to simply not engage. People there, they made it easy, they wanted me to keep to myself. When my aunt first began expecting me to be her live-in maid, my blood would boil with every scrub of the sponge, every sweep of the mop, but I quickly realized there was no point in getting angry and I was only hurting myself. I had to do it, so I’d put on some music and clean in peace.
Since the day I landed there, I told myself all I wanted was out, but these last eight or nine months killed me. I didn’t only want out, I needed out.
I needed my brother.
A connection.
One person, that’s all I wanted.
One person I could wake up and smile at, who would smile at me, truly happy to see me.
I needed to see happiness, to catalog it, in case there came a time I couldn’t see at all.
Not in case, when.
The restlessness that came with waiting for the day Bass would show up began to eat me up. That’s when I noticed the puffiness returning and far more frequent.
Still, all I could do was sit quietly and imagine what I’d have when I was gone.
A life where I could be happy and free, have friends, and above all, my brother. I’d be like the tacky wall stencil found in my aunt’s living room and live, laugh, and love.
Now here I am, living, laughing...
I swallow.
Loving.
I guess I forgot why I cut off the possibility of connections in the first place, but I remember well now.
I can’t control my emotions when other people are in my life, and they saw it firsthand, what a liability I can be, and now I’m forced to wonder if I can handle the world I was taken from but now living in the middle of.
If this life, this place, is worth a lifetime of darkness in an already dark world.
I’ve asked myself this question at least a dozen times since yesterday’s accident, and every… single... time... I do, a haunted, addictive, infectiously live pair of brown eyes pop into my mind, and mine close, a deep, raspy voice answering with the same nine words...
Never let fear hold you back, baby girl. Ever.
So, as he would say, fuck it.
Everything sucks, so what more can it hurt?
My mind screams a lot, but I ignore it.
I shouldn’t have.
“I don’t think we should be here.”
“Shut up, Valine.”
“Bitch!” she snaps, but when I start laughing, she playfully shoves me.
“You might be right, we probably shouldn’t, but have you ever let that stop you, because I have, and guess what.” I pause, looking to her. “I’m over it. I need to talk to him and it needs to be now.”
Her grin is slow. “About fuckin’ time. Here. I’ll give you a boost.” She runs to the gate, bends, and waits.
“We’re not sneaking in. We’re going right through the door.”
Her eyes narrow. “How?”
I sigh, eyeing the place. “I’ve got a feeling they’ll let me pass.” And not a good one.
Royce walked away fr
om me, and that can only mean one thing—he blames himself for what happened to me, and that’s my fault.
I should have told him more about my condition so he understood, but I was afraid he’d push me out, and now here we are.
The boy with the sweetest hidden heart, who wants nothing more than to find his epic ending, did the one thing his mind can’t handle, the thing that makes him lose the little bit of cool he possesses, as I saw on the very first day when Franky gripped on to my arm—he hit a girl.
He hit me, at least that’s the way he sees it.
I need to talk to him, to explain what he couldn’t see.
I need him to listen to me.
We reach the front gate and as I thought, we walk right through without any issues, but as we reach the doors to the Wolves Den, Andre slips farther in front of the door.
“Really?” My shoulders fall. “I thought you were a friendly giant where I was concerned?”
“Gotta know what your plan is before I let you in there, girl. A broken Brayshaw ain’t pretty, and I need to call for backup if you’re here to drive the blade deeper.”
“Come on, Andre. You know me well enough by now. Do you think I’d pour salt in a wound?”
His eyes move between mine and he grins. “Nah, you’d pacify the pain, but I’ll tell you, this ain’t gonna go however you worked out in that pretty little head. Our boy, he’s on another level tonight.”
“Thanks for the warning, now do me a favor and tell me where my man is.”
“Come on now, girl, you know your boy better than that.” He moves aside and there he is, smack dab in the middle of the room, an entourage already around him. “Front and center.”
Being what they expect.
He spots me right away, like he was waiting for me to walk through the doors.
“Well, well.” He accepts a fresh popped bottle from a girl I’ve never seen, kicking his leg out for her to take a seat that doesn’t belong to her.
“Look who’s showed up.” His head falls back lazily.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know I was coming,” I call him out. “That’s the only reason you snapped your fingers and allowed in the swarm of swans.”
He flies from the seat, the girl falling to the floor, but he doesn’t pause to help her.
He stalks toward me, his chest puffed high, but his shoulders, they’re drawn up tight. And he’s angry.
So damn angry.
It’s fear that’s caused it, and he has no idea what to do with it.
He leans in, his lip curling, but my god, his body shakes.
It’s light, almost unnoticeable, but it’s there and it creates a sting within my own.
He’s aching on the inside, and it’s vibrating through his very being, and for some reason, this boy in front of me feels the need to hide it. To hide himself. Hide from himself behind these people who could never truly love him because they don’t know him like I do.
He’s a fraud in his own skin.
He’s going to make this hurt.
I can see it in his lonely, broken boy eyes.
I guess this is where it all falls apart.
The saying goes nothing lasts forever, but that saying is a damn lie, because pain does.
Pain lasts a lifetime.
Here comes mine.
Royce
“I don’t know why you’re here when you’re not wanted or allowed,” I force out. “Leave.”
Her shoulders fall, but she keeps that little lift of her mouth in place. “I can’t. Not until you talk to me.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you. If I did, I’d have called you. I didn’t.” I force myself a step back.
Goddamn it, she’s close.
Too close.
Not close enough.
Before I realize it, I’m reaching for her, but I sloppily pull back, growling as I spin away from her. “I said go. Group home girls aren’t allowed here.”
“Good thing I’m far from one of those.”
“Not anymore.” I spit onto the floor, glancing over my shoulder. “You’re as worthless here as you were where you came from. They had no use for you, and neither do I.”
Fucking kill me.
My insides burn as if someone shot me with a syringe full of their best cut venom, but still I add, “Go back to your aunt, you’re no longer wanted here.” I barely get the last few words out before I’m forced to swallow the vomit beginning to rise.
My veins burn, my throat’s closing, but it’s nothing compared to the jagged blade slicing down my torso at her next words.
“Your hand did some damage.”
My palm flies to my ribs, holding them in place, fighting the sting, soothing the ache. I plant my fucking feet, steel my trembling jaw, and force myself to spin, to face my demon head-on—the marking on my girl’s left temple.
My shoulders fall, the weakness in me showing itself to the one girl I wish I was strong for.
“B—”
“I only said that to get your attention,” she rushes out. “I... lost my sight. ”
Her words are making no sense to me, and mine are a harsh lie. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“I’m trying to tell you this wasn’t your fault. I’m going blind, Royce. I blacked out,” she whispers, and my mind screams, my head spinning, fighting to understand past the alcohol swimming in my veins.
Is she lying so I’ll give in?
I can’t give in, especially if this is true.
Bass said she’d fall into darkness in our world. Did he mean it literally and I was too much of a dick to realize this?
Will she really lose her ability to see when she’s spent the last four years seeing nothing at all?
Four years wasted. Her spirit dimming with her sight.
She shifts closer, and her nearness burns as much as the distance had. “This wasn’t your fault,” she affirms. “But the hurt that followed when I watched you walk away, that was.”
Cause I’m a piece of shit.
And I’m about to become an even bigger one.
I draw up another rancid laugh and this one damn near knocks me on my ass. “You say this shit, tell your little lies, like I’m supposed to care. Newsflash. I don’t. Not about how you feel, not about what you’re going through, not about you.”
Lie, lie, fucking painful ass lie.
Silence, cold and dark, threatens to swallow us.
I should let it, but don’t know how.
I tell myself to walk away, but my feet refuse to move, so fuck it. I get in her face.
“I should take you right here, right now, give you a little goodbye present so I can send you on your way. We both know I don’t have to like you to fuck you.”
“No,” she whispers, her hand coming up to touch my chest, but I jerk away. “You don’t, but you would have to love me to take my virginity like you did, because Royce Brayshaw doesn’t touch virgins otherwise.”
I try to speak, to snap back, but my throat’s officially clogged.
My Brielle.
My baby.
She can never be mine. I’ll destroy her.
Proof is the angry red mark staring back at me.
“Call me a fool,” I whisper hatefully. “‘Cause what a rookie mistake that was. Now look at you, standing here expecting more, like you’re special. Like you weren’t just a body to be played with, for me to fuck the second I decided I wanted to... and you gave, didn’t you? Right when I said go, just like the rest of them.”
She runs her tongue over her teeth, flicking her eyes away to conceal her hurt briefly only to bring them right back.
Pure agony burns in my gut, melts my defenses, and threatens to swallow my resolve.
I want to tell her that I didn’t fuck her, that I worship her body, want to treat it like a fucking temple, bring her as close to the stars as I can, knowing how much she loves the sight of them. How I want to set us both aflame, over and over and over again. And then do it again, but I can�
�t say any of that, because I’m bad for her.
Bad, period.
Everyone knows it, so she must too, right?
Realize that girls rope me in because they want to fuck me, ‘cause I’m the disposable asshole who can make them feel good for a night or two, but that’s it. They keep Cap. They want Maddoc, they settle for me.
Nobody wants to keep me.
The fuckup.
The bad guy with bad intentions.
Do what you do best, Royce. Push, but you better push fucking hard, ‘cause if she comes to you, it’s over. Settled.
And way too fucking selfish.
“Come on now, little Bishop. Don’t stand there looking so helpless. You had to know what was happening here. We talked about what playing dumb makes you look like.”
Her chest begins to rise and fall in short pants, her lungs refusing to share the same air as me, the bastard who hurt her. Who is hurting her now.
“I know what you’re doing,” she rasps. “And you can kiss my ass if you think this will work, but go ahead, Playboy. Break me if you dare.”
Her big, turquoise eyes holding mine and waiting for more bile to make its way up and out.
I force myself not to look away, not to flinch. “I needed to catch Coach Von in the act.” My shoulder lifts, but I hardly feel the move. “He had it coming after everything with Enoch and his girl, the girls he likely hurt before her. Took longer than I thought, but you finally did something useful, fell right in. I mean, come on, you’re so desperate to feel wanted you even volunteered for the dirty little role.”
A fucking knife, right through the heart.
Her face caves, a sharp huff pushing past her nostrils.
“Royce,” Captain snaps.
I ignore him, frowning at her, but I’m not really looking at her, I can’t.
I focus on my peripheral.
“You were nothing but a game piece, one I had to track, bring in, and mold into the perfect little part. And it worked. Why you think I tested you out first?” I force a foul fuckin’ laugh, welcoming the rotten taste in my throat. “Why you think I put molly in your drink the first night here? To see how much work I had to put in to blind you. I was shootin’ for figuratively, but man, maybe I’m better than I thought, yeah, since you ‘lost your sight’?” I speak as mocking as I can muster, tip my head, and wish for a fucking sword to chop it from my body. “But it took a whole lot of work, didn’t it?”
Break Me Page 33
