by Katie May
“I thought about you a lot since you’ve been away,” he confesses, voice a hushed murmur. He pauses and nervously licks his lips, before continuing. “And I replay what we did to you over and over again in my mind. I try to think things through, try to understand why we did the things we did. And you want to know what I come up with?” I stay silent, awaiting his answer with bated breath. “Jack fucking shit.”
“I don’t—”
“I remember the first time I saw you, back in elementary school. Do you remember?” he continues. I try to think back to that time, when I saw him as a classmate and even a friend, but all of his wicked sins taint my memory. I slowly shake my head no. “Well, I do. You were seven, maybe eight. Hell, maybe you were younger. What I do remember is you were this little scrap of a thing. Tiny. Petite. Cute.” He shrugs his broad shoulders, and I can’t help but feel butterflies in my stomach at the fact that he thought I was cute. It’s actually kind of laughable how pathetic I am.
“What happened?” I ask quietly as he continues to stare off into space, lost in a memory only he can see.
“These kids were making fun of me because I still had trouble reading.” His face creases together as he absently reaches across the table, picks apart some of my muffin, and shoves it in his mouth. I tentatively shove the rest of the treat towards him—a peace offering. “I remember they were calling me stupid and pushing me around a bit. Keep in mind, I was a scrawny fucker back then.” He chuckles ruefully. “And there you came, this slip of a girl with gorgeous white-blonde hair and the strangest eyes I’ve ever seen. Do you know what you said?”
Once more, I shake my head. I don’t remember any of this.
“You said, ‘Don’t be a bully! Bullies are mean and nasty!’” He chuckles once more, and this time, I can’t help but join in. Oh, the irony of that statement.
“Younger me really needed to work on her retorts,” I jest.
“You were the only person who stood up for me that day,” he continues. “There were other kids who watched them pick on me, but only you actually stepped forward and put a stop to it. And I vowed to myself, right then and there on the playground, that I would marry you one day.” He scratches at the inside of his arm as he continues to stare off into the distance. I half wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want to meet my eyes. “But less than a few years later, I…” He trails off, but we both know what he was going to say. A few years later, he became my bully. My tormentor. My living nightmare.
“So why did you do it?” I whisper.
I feel worn out, the emotional whiplash these boys put me through taking a toll on my body. Sooner or later, the events of the last few days are going to catch up to me like a twenty-thousand-pound ship running into an iceberg. I’m going to crash and drown, and there’s nothing anyone can do to save me.
“Honestly?” Karsyn touches the corner of his lips with his pointer finger. “Because I had a crush on you…but so did the others. We decided that none of us could have you, and that made me…”
“Mad enough to hurt me?” I surmise, feeling sick to my stomach. It’s funny, in a way, that the people we hurt the most are often the people we care about more than anything. Why do we always hurt the people we love? When will this sick, twisted cycle end? First my mom, then Nana, and now…
“No.” Karsyn shakes his head from side to side, body radiating a sort of desperate, primal energy. It reminds me distinctly of a caged lion you would see at a zoo. You’re aware that it’s one of the most powerful predators on the planet and that the only thing containing it is a few flimsy bars. What if it breaks free? Beasts like that aren’t made for captivity. “It wasn’t like that,” he continues.
“Then explain it to me,” I hedge, my nerves frayed like I’m a live wire about to whip around and spark at anyone who comes too close. “I know you have this need to assuage your guilt—”
“Guilt?” He laughs harshly. “You think I just feel guilt? You have no fucking idea, Simone.”
“Then what the hell are we doing here, Alder? I’m just trying to understand!” The muscles in my shoulders are so tense, they spasm. “If you don’t feel guilt, then why am I even here?” Pain rushes through me, but my rage quickly tempers it. What did I expect from him? An apology like Elias gave me? An acknowledgement that he wronged me? “If you’re not sorry—”
“I never said I’m not sorry,” he interrupts, tone caustic and acidic. “And I never said I don’t feel guilty. I just said that guilt isn’t the only emotion I feel. I have a plethora of emotions inside of me right now.” He distractedly scratches at the nape of his neck, avoiding eye contact once more as the fight drains from him. “I feel a lot of fucking things. And…and I know sorry isn’t good enough.”
I wait him out, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. My coffee sits in front of me, forgotten.
“I feel anger at myself. Hurt. Guilt. I feel so fucking much that I’m going insane.” Abruptly, he leans across the table, his desperation growing from an ember to a blazing inferno. “Simone, I’m so fucking sorry. And I hate the fact that it took me five years to say those words. I hate the fact that I didn’t reach out to you after everything that happened. And I’m so fucking sorry that I’m one of the causes for…” He allows his words to drift off, lowering his gaze to stare at my arms. With my long-sleeved shirt on, my scars can’t be seen, but I know he’s envisioning them nonetheless. Heaven only knows that I do daily as well.
“What do you want from me, Alder?” I rip my eyes away from his and focus on my coffee. I take a tentative sip, allowing the lukewarm liquid to chase away the chill.
“I want to start over. Maybe as…friends?” He speaks the last word with hesitance, hope flaring to life in his striking eyes.
And…
I want that.
Just like I wanted a relationship with Elias.
But how can I? The knowledge of what I did to him consumes and overwhelms me like a twenty-foot wave. I destroyed his chance of playing college football. I’ve already heard the murmurings that State rescinded their offer after the game. I’m not saying that the Devils don’t need to atone for their sins, because they most definitely do. But maybe, just maybe, I need to atone for mine as well.
And I can’t be Karsyn’s friend while I still hold on to so much anger and hurt. So much guilt and pain. There are so many emotions associated with these men, and not all of them are good. When I see his face, I feel anger at the memory of what he and the others did to me. But I also feel hurt. And, more recently, guilt. How can I look him in the eye knowing what I did? Knowing what he did?
I’m so fucking lost and confused, I’m afraid my head will explode, the blast taking it clean off my shoulders.
“No.” I can barely speak, barely breathe. All I can hear is the unsteady thump of my heart in my rib cage.
“No?” Disbelief laces his tone as he stares at me in shock.
“We can’t start over, Alder. Not now. Not ever.”
Before he can mount another protest, before he can convince me otherwise, I grab my backpack off the ground and hurry out of the coffee shop.
Why does everything have to hurt so damn much?
Chapter 38
It’s raining when I exit the coffee shop. How did I not hear the heavy patter of rain on the vaulted roof? The answer is simple—I was distracted.
Karsyn Alder consumed every bit of my attention. The only words I was capable of hearing were his. The only thing I could see was his face. His chiseled jawline. The slow, seductive tilt of his lips. His hazel eyes, a melt of autumn tones. It’s those eyes I focus on now, like some lovestruck tween writing in her diary. When he was jovial or even passionate, they sparkled with mirth. But when he was sad or desperate, they grew dim, the brown capturing and eradicating any traces of green from his irises.
It feels as if my heart’s been through the shredder, but despite that, I’m still standing. Still breathing. Still walking, one step after
another. I’ll fall apart tonight, in the safety of my own bed.
I’ll envision Elias’s face, rife with betrayal and frustration, and the hurt in Karsyn’s eyes when I refused his offer of peace.
I’ll see Nana’s tear-stained face, and Gabriel’s snarling one.
Mariabella’s shuttered expression when I rejected her.
Lucas’s cold, tight-lipped smile that makes him look more demonic than human.
The anger in Cassian’s gaze when he confronted me about my involvement in Mrs. Town’s firing.
The disappointment and annoyance in my mom’s expression every time we talked.
Pain and grief have a way of chipping at your soul, one tiny sliver at a time. In small doses, you won’t even notice anything’s amiss. But if it comes at you all at once, you’ll lose yourself completely. Lose the fundamental thing that makes you you.
Cold, biting rainwater plasters my hair to my head as I step onto the sidewalk. I don’t immediately begin walking. Instead, I tilt my head upwards, allowing the rain to pelt my face like a thousand icy kisses. Bloated, gray storm clouds shroud the sky above me, the sun nowhere to be seen. It’s fitting, I suppose, to have such a dark and dreary day for a time like this, a time when my world is in shambles, falling apart around me, and I’m helpless to do anything but watch.
“Peony!” Karsyn’s raspy voice reaches me, and I blink water out of my eyes as I stare at him. His dark shirt clings to his chest, accentuating his muscular frame, as he bounds towards me in three quick steps. He places his hands on my waist, and this close, I can see raindrops suspended on his lashes like tears. “You don’t get to leave me. Not like that.”
And then he kisses me.
Or I kiss him.
It’s quick and sudden, but I swear lava sloshes in my stomach, a once dormant volcano springing to life. His lips move against mine fiercely, and I surrender to him, to the feelings he evokes inside of me. Maybe I should be cautious after everything that’s happened. Maybe I should be cynical or even feel guilty. After all, I had sex with Elias not even a few hours ago.
But this…
His lips against mine…
His tongue caressing my own…
It feels right. I can sense it in the very center of my soul, throbbing in tandem with my pounding heart. All that exists is him and me, locked in an embrace capable of sizzling the water pelting us from up above.
But my life is like the rain clouds in the sky, opening up and releasing torrents on the unsuspecting population. As quickly as the kiss begins, I end it, all but shoving Karsyn away from me. Tears fill my eyes, blending with the rainwater, as I stare up at one of the men I hate and love most in the world.
Isn’t this what most girls dream about? A fairy tale kiss in the rain? That inevitable collision of stars in the galaxy?
“We can’t do this,” I whisper, and I wonder if he can even hear me over the flurry of rainfall.
“Simone, don’t say that…”
“Because you were right.” I throw my hands up in the air and tilt my head skywards once more, laughing maniacally. “I’m a freak.”
“No one talks bad about my girl,” Karsyn all but growls, taking half a step closer to me. “Least of all my girl herself.”
“I’m not your girl, Alder,” I protest around a weak laugh. Inside, it feels as if my heart is shredding into thousands of intricate pieces. Too many for me to ever hope to stitch back together again. They just sit in my chest, a mildly uncomfortable presence I yearn to yank out and stomp on. “I can’t be.”
“Peony, I care about you. I always have. And I’m sorry—”
“It’s not even about that anymore!” A gust of wind blows my white hair around my face, and a few of the wet strands stick to my cheeks. Karsyn stares at one intently, almost as if he wishes he could reach out and brush it behind my ear. His hands ball into fists.
“Then what is it?” he demands.
“I’m a freak! I’m that weirdo you always accused me of being.” I don’t want to feel this…this…this hurt anymore. I don’t want to feel anything, if I’m being honest.
Love and hate are like a swinging pendulum. Once it goes in one direction, the laws of physics dictate that it has to swing in the other at some point in time. Back and forth, back and forth, never ending. A continuous and toxic loop of blood-curdling hatred combined with toe-curling love and lust.
I don’t think I love the Devils. At least, not yet. But I can see myself irrevocably and irreversibly falling for them if I remain around them. They’re the suns that I desperately orbit around, chasing them despite the risk of getting burnt.
“Peony…don’t think like that,” Karsyn whispers as he tugs on my hands. I didn’t even realize that I was digging my nails into my palms, reverting to some of my nastier habits from five years ago. “Don’t listen to things a little shit like me said in middle school. I never meant any of it. What do you need me to do? How can I make you forgive me?”
“Karsyn, you’re not listening to me,” I huff, attempting to wrench my hands free. His grip remains firm. “You were right. You were always right. I’m not normal, and I don’t think I’ll ever be. A darkness resides inside of me. Don’t you see? So this…” With my hand still in his, I attempt to gesture between the two of us. “Can’t be a thing. Though I don’t even know what kind of ‘thing’ we would be.”
“Whatever we fucking want to be,” Karsyn replies adamantly, lips pursed.
He doesn’t understand, and short of me screaming that I’m a witch, I don’t know how else to drill it into his stubborn head.
“I wanted to hurt you,” I blurt out. “I mean, I want to hurt you. I came to this town for one reason—revenge. I wanted you and the others to pay for what you did to me.” My words rush together, a strange combination of past and present tenses, but honestly? I don’t know which one is true. Revenge is the last thing on my mind at the moment. Do I still hate him? Hate them? Do I still want to destroy their lives the way they did mine? The way I thought they did mine? Are they as cruel and capricious as I thought them to be?
He blinks at me, seemingly unable to comprehend my words. Those gorgeous, curled lashes of his appear even darker and thicker in the rain. His hands drop from mine as if I burned him, as if some sticky, toxic substance coats my skin instead of rain water.
It’s better this way. It’s better if he hates me.
Because that means I’m still allowed to hate him.
“I sabotaged you at the football game,” I confess, watching as his eyebrows draw together in confusion.
“That’s not possib—”
“I’m not a good girl, and you’re not a good guy.” My pain refuses to relent, like a splinter embedded beneath my fingernail. “So now you see.” All I can hear is the pounding of my heart, each heartbeat threatening to be my last.
Almost mechanically, he repeats, “Now I see.”
“You just need to let me go,” I continue, staring at the broken man who stole my heart and then crushed it in his fist. And I think that’s another problem. It’s not just him who has a piece of my heart.
“I just need to let you go,” he parrots dumbly.
This time when I walk away, he doesn’t follow me.
Chapter 39
I don’t make it far before I fall apart. My knees hit the sidewalk as I collapse just a few blocks away from my house. The rain slows, now nothing more than light sprinkles that caress my face, and the sun begins to crest the gray, pregnant storm clouds.
It’s almost as if the universe itself wants to remind me that this isn’t the end. That this isn’t over. That the sun always comes out…
Okay. Even I know that’s complete and utter shit.
My phone rings in my back pocket, and I awkwardly reach for it. Fortunately, I’m in an area of town most people don’t travel to, where nothing but country houses, acres of trees, and the occasional corn field ornamented with silos reside. I imagine they would grow quite concerned at the sight of a crying,
disheveled girl kneeling in a puddle of mucky rain water.
“Yeah?” I answer hoarsely.
“Peony?” It’s Nana, her tone even more frazzled than it had been the first time I called her about the Bloods. “Are you okay? Why aren’t you home?”
“I told you.” I bite my nails into my palms, reveling in the slight bite of pain. “I was with a friend.”
“It’s not safe,” she snaps. And then, in a softer voice, she adds, “Polo and Christian are putting a protection spell on the house right now. Come home. Please.”
I rub at my face, collecting a disgusting mixture of snot and tears on my palm, evidence of my literal unravelling. There’s no other word that can even begin to encapsulate what I’m feeling. I can’t tell up from down, right from wrong, love from hate. The emotions tangle together inside of me, growing tighter and tighter, until it feels as if they’re suffocating my heart.
“I don’t know if I can come home. Not yet.”
“I know you’re mad—”
“I’m fucking furious!” I scream, hating that I’m forced to have this conversation with her here. On the phone. In the rain. “You lied to me. My entire life, everyone has lied to me. I thought you, of all people, would be the one person who wouldn’t.” Silence reigns, and I pull the phone away to make sure she hasn’t hung up. “Okay, look…” I scrub a hand down my face, moving my matted, wet hair off of my cheeks. “I’m not saying I’m never coming back. That I don’t forgive you. I just need a little more time to wrap my head around this.”
“It’s not safe.” Her voice wobbles ever so slightly, and I know she’s right. Being out by myself, especially after the most recent attack, is stupid. Obviously, the Bloods are in this area, and they now know that I’m a witch. At the same time, I can’t imagine they would be stupid enough to remain here after I saw their faces and got away. “We called the council, and they said they’ll send Gabriel back home to track the Bloods, but it’s not safe, and I don’t—”
