Absinthe Of The Heart

by Monica James

  Meet me tonight after work.

  I won.

  L xx

  I stare at his note, not really knowing what it means. I’ve received letters from Sin in the past, but they’ve been more like ransom notes. But this, this signoff is something new.

  I don’t know what to make of any of this, but now that the harsh light of day is streaming in through my window, things have never been clearer. Yes, I betrayed my family, my sort-of boyfriend, and my best friend, but would I take back what I did?

  No.

  I can’t remember a time when things have ever felt more aligned, like everything was where it should be. Things aren’t going to be easy, but Sin is worth fighting for. My parents are probably going to disown me at first, not to mention Lincoln will dump my cheating ass and Belle will probably never speak to me again, but I can’t lie to myself any longer.

  Happiness comes with a price.

  Guilt eats away at me, reminding me that maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought. Didn’t she do the same thing to Sin’s mom as I have just done to Belle?

  But I refuse to believe this is a case of history repeating itself, because we’re different. We’re meant to be.

  Groaning, I kick off the sheets and stand, desperate to escape the teenage cliché I’ve just turned into. I hope this giddy feeling is temporary because I’d hate to turn into a lovestruck fool. Collecting my clothes for work, I peer over at my phone on the dresser and wonder if I should call Sin just to say hi.

  So much for not turning into a cliché, I reprimand in my head.

  Needing a shower, because every time I move, his scent punches me in the face, I peek my head around the doorjamb to ensure my parents aren’t home. The coast is clear, but just in case, I tiptoe down the hall and lock the bathroom door behind me.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn on the faucet to hot as my protesting muscles are looking forward to soaking away this sting between my legs. The bathroom fills with mist quickly, and usually, I wouldn’t be such a water hog, but I need the time to figure out what I’m going to do.

  Lathering up the vanilla scented soap, I wash away the traces of my treachery. Too bad I can’t wash away the permanent damage it’s done to my soul. I don’t regret what we did; I just regret that our actions have hurt so many people.

  I’m not expecting Sin and me to be wearing his and her matching t-shirts in public or expressing our undying love, but I do hope last night meant as much to him as it did to me. His note is typical Sin—ambiguous and hard to read, but the fact he left a note at all and didn’t just sneak out has got to mean something, right?

  In times such as these, most seventeen-year-old girls could ask their mother or best friend for advice, but seeing as both will hate me for what I’ve done, I’m on my own. As I wash over my neck, I feel a tenderness matching the one between my legs. I recall Sin biting and suckling me like I was his favorite dessert.

  I instantly turn the faucet to cold because if I continue this trip down memory lane, I’ll be one hot and bothered girl. Peering down my body, I see a faint bruise, the distinct impression of fingerprints on my inner thigh. I remember how they got there, and how Sin’s mouth brought me to the pinnacle of wanting to die.

  This needs to stop now.

  Turning off the faucet quickly, I reach for a towel and dry off. Thanks to the fact my shower turned into a sauna, I wipe down the mirror, leaving a slash in its wake. Peering at my haggard appearance, I find a splash of purple catching my eyes. Inching closing, I jump backward, my hand flying up to cover my neck.

  I have a hickey the size of Europe.

  A small part of me is hula dancing with pride while the other kicks her in the shins and groans.

  How am I supposed to cover this? There isn’t enough makeup in the world to cover my whoredom. This is like waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. There is no way I can hide this from my parents. Too bad I didn’t realize Sin chomping on my neck like a starved vampire was a bad idea last night.

  Lifting my chin and pulling at the skin around my neck to examine just how bad the damage is only confirms I need to be a scarf wearer for the next three to five days. I slip into my work clothes, groaning when the low V-neck seems to highlight my night of depravity.

  I open the bathroom door quietly, thankful the coast is still clear as I make a mad dash to my bedroom. Peering around my meager possessions, I have no idea how I’m going to get away with this because I don’t own a scarf.

  A sleeveless turtleneck top is balled up into the corner of the room. It must be Belle’s. That’ll have to do for now. I can go to the mall after work to invest in some scarves and indecently heavy foundation.

  A light knock on the front door interrupts my plan of attack, and I pause mid step, wondering who it could be. My parents wouldn’t knock, seeing as they live here, and it’s way too early for Belle to be awake after prom. My stomach drops as I know I can’t avoid her forever.

  Lincoln hates this part of town, so he wouldn’t just turn up unannounced. A light flutter bounces in my belly because religious devotees know better than to preach about whatever their beliefs are in this neighborhood, so that only leaves one person…

  I almost fall over my bare feet as I run down the hallway, only composing myself when I stop inches from the front door. My wet hair hangs limply around my face, and I have on no makeup, but I don’t care.

  The need to see Sin overrides any small smidge of vanity I may have. I must look into those baby blues to confirm last night actually happened and it wasn’t my mind messing with me. I’ll deal with the awkwardness and morning-after talk later because right now, I just want to see him.

  Without a second thought, I jerk open the door, but the bright sunlight must be playing tricks on me because there is no way Lincoln is standing on my porch, looking worse for wear. My heart begins an incline as I shield my eyes from the morning sun and attempt to dissect what I’m seeing.

  “Can I come in?” he asks after a second of me gawking at him like he’s grown a second head.

  “Wh-what happened? To your face?” I raise a trembling finger, but he doesn’t need to answer. I know what, or who.

  “I’ll explain inside.” He looks over my shoulder, a silent charade he wants to enter, but my brain can’t seem to digest what’s happening fast enough.

  Lincoln is in sweats and a baggy t-shirt—his usual gear—but his busted-up face is anything but normal. His chin is covered with a dark scruff, which also indicates something is off because he’s usually always clean shaven. He looks like hell.

  “Holland?” His pointed command snaps me from my stupor, and I shuffle to the side, allowing him to enter. He brushes past me, not greeting me with his customary kiss hello, but I suppose nothing is normal anymore.

  I stand in the doorway, peering out into my exhaust fumed street, so tempted to run, my feet itch. Mrs. Edelstein hobbles past with her Rottweiler, giving me a small wave. I almost beg she take me with her because although her dog would bite my leg off the moment I stepped within three feet of her, his bite would be a mere scratch compared to Lincoln’s, who is seconds away from biting my head clean off.

  But I wasn’t raised a quitter, and it’s time I paid my dues.

  I appreciate the morning sun for a minute longer because I know tomorrow’s sunrise won’t be as bright. Everything has changed, and I have no one to blame but myself.

  Unable to escape the inevitable, I close the door and press my forehead to the woodgrain. What the fuck have I done?

  “He was here, wasn’t here?” Lincoln’s question is obsolete because he knows the answer.

  “Yes.” I don’t see the point in lying to him.

  He inhales sharply, the sound kicking me where it hurts, hurts because of what Sin and I did. “That motherfucker.”

  Wishing I could click my heels three times and end up anywhere but here, I take a deep breath and slowly turn around. I take a moment to compose myself before I lift my eyes and look at Lincoln standi
ng in the middle of the hallway, his shoulders drooped.

  His black and blue appearance does leave me disconcerted, but I know he gave as good as he got. “What happened?” My voice is a mere whisper, but I’m afraid it’s all I can muster.

  Lincoln’s lips twist into a nasty scowl. “Have you spoken to Belle?”

  His question has me suddenly remembering my promise. “Listen to what Belle has to say.” That’s what Sin asked of me, but she’s not here. Lincoln is, and I know he has the answers I so desperately seek.

  “No, I haven’t. What’s going on?” I hate how weak I sound.

  Lincoln turns his head, shaking it with a sinister grin. “What happened is that Sin has once again played you for a fool.”

  “What?” I gasp, unbelieving. “That’s not…how?”

  Lincoln appears too calm, but I know this is only the calm before the storm. “Last night, Belle—” The moment he pauses, I know this is the beginning of the end. “Belle came onto me. She kissed me. I, of course, pushed her away, but that’s not what Sin saw. Before I had a chance to defend myself, he was tackling me to the ground and beating the shit out of me for touching what was his.” His emphasis makes me sick to my stomach.

  “No.” Tears sting my eyes, but I furiously brush them away.

  “It’s true, Holland. Didn’t he make it clear Belle belonged to him, like some piece of property, when he said you were not to come to prom?”

  “He said that I was to make sure…you didn’t come to prom because he wasn’t interested in fighting over what’s his.” Lincoln’s words bash loudly against my skull, and I press the heel of my hand to my brow.

  I’m going to be sick.

  “Once he was done kicking my ass, he warned me he was going to make me pay, hit me where it hurts.” I thrust my palm out, begging him to stop. “I didn’t know how…until, well…” His focus drops to my neck, the evidence written as clear as day.

  “Please stop.” But he doesn’t give me a reprieve because I don’t deserve one. I brought this clusterfuck onto myself, and now, I have to deal with the repercussions.

  Lincoln fists his snarled hair, leaving his fingers threaded atop his head. “He’s taken everything from me. Everything. Quarterback, girls, my dad even likes him better than me…but not in a thousand years did I ever think he’d win…you.”

  A single tear traces down my cheek, but my heart drowns. I’m disgusting. I don’t even recognize the person I am anymore. I’m standing here in my own skin, but never have I felt more detached from myself than I do right now.

  “Sin doesn’t like to lose…you should know that,” he spits, appalled. “And he has won the biggest prize of all—” he spreads his arms out wide “—you.” I don’t know how he knows we had sex. Maybe I look different, maybe my sins are seared into my flesh.

  A sob slips past my lips, but I cover my mouth, afraid I’ll never stop if I start.

  I think back to last night, and all the touches, kisses, stolen words we shared; it all felt so real, like he loved me as much as I loved him, but if what Lincoln says is true, then he meant none of it. I was just a pawn in his sick, twisted game, but haven’t I always been?

  My stubbornness overrides my fears, refusing to believe this as truth. There wasn’t a hint of maliciousness to his actions; he cherished and worshipped me. He made me feel like I was the center of his universe and that things had really changed.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” Lincoln asks with a sarcastic scoff.

  “I-I…I don’t know what to believe,” I confess, not knowing anything anymore.

  He doesn’t hide his hurt but pulls back his broad shoulders and digs into his pocket, producing his cell. “Call her. Call Belle and ask her yourself.”

  I recoil backward, as the phone may as well be a loaded gun. Yes, I could call Belle and ask her if what Lincoln says is true, but the moment I hear her voice, it will fortify the fact that what I did to her was so much worse. I slept with her sort-of boyfriend, her sort-of boyfriend who played me, but the worst thing is, I played straight into his hands.

  His smile, his fragrance, his body pressed into mine smashes into me, and I suddenly feel faint. I slap my hand against the wall, afraid I’ll crumple without the support. My actions have destined me to forever be alone.

  Shakily extending out my palm, I furl my fingers, needing to find out once and for all. Lincoln places the cell into it, and the fact he avoids touching me adds salt to the wounds. I’m an untouchable, and I may as well sew a permanent scarlet A into my clothes.

  He’s got her number up on the screen, so all I have to do is press call. One simple touch can end something that should have never started. But one simple touch was what started all this.

  My fingers fumble, but after three attempts, I press the button and hold my breath. I’ve never been more nervous than I am now, but when I hear Belle’s voice, everything disappears and all that’s left is this.

  “Oh, thank god, Lincoln. I’ve tried calling you like five hundred times. Where have you been?”

  When my eyes lock with his, he pulls in his lips, as if knowing what comes next.

  “Lincoln?” Belle’s desperation is palpable through the phone line.

  I can’t stay mute forever, although, I wish I could. “It’s me, Belle.”

  “Holland?” Her surprise has me sniffing back tears.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Oh.” She clears her throat.

  This is so awkward, and not once do I remember us ever at a loss for words. Our friendship was easy, but now, it’ll never be the same.

  “Why do you have Lincoln’s phone?”

  “He’s here,” I explain, barely holding it together. Lincoln folds his arms across his chest, waiting for me to put this to bed.

  “Oh,” she repeats.

  The silence speaks volumes, and I need to know. No matter how hard it’ll be to hear, it will allow me to accept the responsibility that this is all my fault. “Belle…” I swallow, blinking back my tears. “Did you kiss…Lincoln?” The boy in question frowns.

  Silence.

  The phone leaves an indent in my ear, but I keep it held tight, the pain a welcome sting. “Belle?”

  “…Yes.”

  One simple word has the ability to change the course of one’s life so dramatically. I never thought a word which usually is associated with happiness and acceptance has forever been ruined for me for good.

  “Is that the reason they fought?” Lincoln nods, but I need to hear it from her.

  I don’t need to clarify who the “they” is because she knows. It always comes down to him.

  She sniffs, but I can still hear her tears. “Yes…I’m s-so s-sorry, Holland.” She bursts into uncontrollable sobs.

  I stand mute, numb. I want to console her and tell her it’s okay because what I did to her is so, so much worse, but all I can think about is Sin. The reason he wanted me to listen to Belle is because he knew I’d believe her. He knew how much more it would hurt hearing it from her.

  He made sure that by accepting the truth, I’d piece it all together. I’d realize that he slept with me to get back at Lincoln, and maybe Belle, too. I don’t even know what’s real anymore.

  “Holland, please fo-forgive m-me,” she pleads with hysterical tears. But I can’t listen to this because I’m the one who should be saying sorry. I’m the one who should be on my knees, begging for forgiveness for what I did.

  But images of Sin sinking into me and remembering how much I loved it, how much I love him assault my brain, and I gag. I’m going to throw up.

  Dropping the phone on the carpet, I take off in a dead sprint and make it to the bathroom just in time. I heave up the contents of my stomach into the toilet, tears spilling from my eyes as I attempt to purge up the wickedness within.

  It’s not enough, however, and I force myself to expel more and more. I’m sobbing, thumping my hand against the wall, wishing I could dig myself from the trouble I’m in.

 
; Oh god, what have I done?

  I fell for the oldest trick in the book—bad boy turned good. I thought I changed him. That by giving up my virginity, we’d ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. But I should know by now that HEAs are not in my future. They never are for people like me.

  I was just a game to Sin, and finally, it’s come to an end. This is payback for taking away his toys.

  He’s won. His note now makes perfect sense.

  I thought he meant he won me, but now I know he’s talking about winning a whole different ball game. He won because he played me.

  “Holland?” I groan, burying my head in the bowl. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

  But I don’t want his forgiveness because I’ll never forgive myself. “Go away. I just want to be left alone.” My voice bounces off the porcelain, but I know Lincoln heard me loud and clear.

  “How am I the bad guy? You’re the one who fucked your best friend’s boyfriend!”

  I close my eyes, the emptiness and loneliness pervading my soul. He’s right. I can’t hate him for skywriting what everyone will know to be true. Looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. It’s in my DNA to hurt and destroy.

  “Please…go.” I’m barely holding it together, but I try not to break down in front of him. My head wedged down a toilet to hide my shame is the tipping point of losing face for good.

  “Fine, but just remember who your enemy is. Goodbye, Holland.” If only I’d heeded that warning last night, none of this would be happening. The front door slams shut, jarring a jolt straight through me. I feel it all the way to my toes.

  I don’t know how long I stay sobbing into the toilet, my pained cries heavy with ache and regret. I need to call Belle and tell her that I’m the one who is sorry. I’m the one who should be apologizing until I’ve lost my voice for good.

  How could I have been so stupid? This entire time I thought I was different—and I suppose I am. I’m worse than any one of those girls who threw their morals to the wind because I knew what he was like; I knew because I am a selfish, lying, cheating asshole as well. It appears the saying rings true: birds of a feather flock together. Or in my case, birds of a feather flock together and crap all over the people I love.