Thorn in the Dark (Grove High School Book Two)

by A. R. Breck

  Passing Easton’s house, I’m not surprised to see his truck not there. What puts a dent in my heart, though, is seeing Logan’s car parked in front of his house. I can imagine everyone seeing it every day hurts.

  That was Logan’s baby.

  Cara’s already outside waiting for me, drinking out of a water bottle, which I’m sure is actually filled with vodka. We all come from addictive households, and it doesn’t make me too happy to see her drinking so much lately.

  “What’s up?” She asks when she gets in my car.

  “I didn’t see you after school.”

  She cringes. “Yeah, I just couldn’t make it. Left after third period. The stares…” She shivers.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse. I think a few people were tearing up just looking at me. I couldn’t take it. Had to bail.”

  “Hopefully next week is better.”

  “Yeah, hopefully.” She doesn’t sound too convinced, but I’m not going to go there when she’s been drinking. I’m sure it would just end up in a fight.

  When we pull up to the Pit a short while later, all the memories flood back of my last time here. “Shit.” My chest squeezes, and I can barely take a breath. Even though the last time I was here was when we saw Logan’s body, the last time I was over on this side of the building was, then.

  “Whoah, what? Are you okay?” She leans over me with a concerned face. “Hey, it’s okay. We can go home. I don’t really want to be here, anyway.” She reaches for her seatbelt to refasten it, but I stop her.

  “Wait,” I say on a breath.

  “What?” She frowns at me.

  “Just give me a minute.” I lean my head back and dig my nails into my thighs as hard as I can. I cannot let this shit control my life. Corey is not worth my panic, my stress, or my tears.

  Still, though, it sucks.

  And the pain is real.

  “Are you sure about this?” Cara asks, snapping me out of my downward spiral.

  Opening my eyes, I let out all the air in my lungs and look at Cara. “Let’s go.”

  We walk up to Jerry who is guarding the door in his usual hulking presence.

  “Ladies, haven’t seen you for a while. Cara, I am sorry to hear about Logan. You guys were a thing, yeah?”

  Cara fails to hide her sadness. “Yeah, thanks.”

  Jerry shakes his head as he opens up the door. “Shit, he was a good man. Not many like him out there. Well, have a good night. Don’t go gettin’ into any trouble!”

  We are way past that.

  Walking down that hallway with its dim lights and heavy music playing in the distance is like some sort of déjà vu. I know once I get pass those doors, the flood of people who are in a constant mosh pit are going to be unavoidable. I don’t want to touch even one person, but I know I’m going to have to if I plan to talk to Easton tonight.

  If I want to fix us.

  Just as I expected, the mass of people looks like a sea of color. Nowhere to go except through, unfortunately. Since the fight is about to start, we bypass going to the bar first and make our way up the front of the ring.

  I hold my breath the entire time we walk through the crowd. I’m not sure why, honestly. I just feel like it might help with my panic.

  It doesn’t.

  Cara, being all moody and heartbroken, finds this the perfect time to take out her anger. Walking through the people, she pushes, shoves, swears, and kicks anyone she walks past. And by that, I mean everyone.

  “Cara, chill out.”

  She turns back and gives me an evil smile that’s borderline angry. “Nah.”

  I roll my eyes and let her take us to the front.

  When we get there, the lights have already dimmed and the usual announcer, Erickson, is announcing the fighters for tonight.

  “Well, what a fine fucking evening to be at the Pit. What does everyone think?” Shouts and screams ensue, and he gobbles that shit up with a cheesy smile.

  “Tonight, we have Scott “Zombie” fucking Miller. If you know of the Zombie, then you very well know the stories of Scott. Some might say he is a cannibal, but we won’t get into that shit right now. Anyway, on the other side, we have Easton the “Reaper” Malone.” Screams from all around cut him off. “Yeah, I know, I know. We all know Easton, and we are all fucking excited for him to be back with us after a couple weeks off, aren’t we folks?” I cover my ears from the slutty screams going on all around me.

  It enrages it.

  I see nothing but red around me.

  If I were ballsy enough, I would pull my gun from my purse and shoot every girl with hearts in their eyes. They don’t get to have hearts in their eyes. He is mine. He is only mine.

  Erickson jumps off the ring, and I snap my eyes back to the ring just in time to watch Easton lay a left hook to Scott’s face.

  Easton, who usually looks bored and almost lazy in the ring seems to be in a completely different atmosphere tonight. Constantly moving, constantly bouncing, and there is a look on his face. One that looks like a wrong step in his direction, and he will rip your throat out.

  I gulp loudly.

  It doesn’t take long before Easton has Scott on the ground in a bloody heap. It takes Jackson and his trainer to come on the stage to rip Easton off of him.

  Easton doesn’t want to stop.

  “Well, okay. It looks like we all know who the winner is. The Reaper wins again!” Erickson shouts, keeping his distance from Easton because the look on Easton’s face is not good.

  His eyes are black as night and the veins and muscles throughout his body clench and unclench over and over again, his tense body not willing to give in to the win. It wants more. He wants more. There is blood splattered across his face, and when he stands there and looks out in the crowd, I know he has never looked more desirable or deadly.

  Just like I knew in the pit of my stomach, it doesn’t take long for his eyes to laser in on mine. He snarls and bares his teeth, the anger and fury and disgust on his face when he looks at me feels like someone is reaching inside of me and trying to pluck my heart right out of my throat.

  I can’t breathe.

  I stare at him, unable to back down, but the image of him becomes blurry as my panic heightens.

  He hates me. He truly fucking hates me.

  Jackson grabs him by the back of the neck and steers him off the ring.

  Before he turns the corner, he looks over his shoulder and casts me one last glance, closing the lid on us. The look he gives me—a threat. Leave or else, is what I see in those eyes.

  It feels like my heart bounces back down into my chest and dies.

  All that’s left is a broken muscle in its place and an even more broken soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I hate myself for everything I’ve done, but that’s okay because I’m going to hell anyway.

  Easton

  “Dude, you need to chill the fuck out. You almost killed Scott out there.” Jackson shakes his head at me when we get back to the locker area.

  “Fuck, dude. I know.” I sigh and change out of my pants. Since Logan died, anytime I try to fight I practically blackout, and I can’t snap out of it by myself. I’ve tried, and I just can’t.

  “And what was that with Rose? You looked like you wanted to fucking hit her.” He snarls at me.

  My chest puffs up at his defense. “The fuck do you care? You want her now that I tossed her aside?” I walk up to him and get right in his face. “You can’t have her.”

  “No, I don’t want her. She didn’t do anything, though, Easton. Leave her alone.” He pushes me back, hard. “And back the fuck off, bro. You’re pushing everyone away. Isn’t that what you were talking to me about the other day? Sticking together? Not pushing everyone away?”

  “Maybe that’s what needs to happen.” I unwrap my hands and throw on a t-shirt in record speed, ready to get the hell away from whatever the hell Jackson is trying to do.

  “Says who? You didn’t do anything wro
ng. Rose didn’t do anything wrong. Logan didn’t do anything wrong. Shit happens in our world, and we have to deal with it, or we won’t survive.”

  Why is he talking so much? Going from completely mute to therapist? Not Jackson at all.

  “What happened to you? You’re all…this.” I gesture to him.

  “What are you talking about?” He looks away, and his cheeks pink up a bit. What. The. Fuck.

  “You’re acting not like yourself.” I grumble.

  “Fuck off.” He barks and walks out, heading straight for the bar and our VIP section.

  “This guy.” I shake my head. I can barely keep shit straight anymore. I don’t know what to do in life anymore. All I do know is, I need to keep my distance from everyone if I want to survive.

  I follow Jackson out and head right for my usual spot. When I sit down, there is already some slutty bartender there with a drink for me and tits too big for her chest. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime. Let me know if you need anything else.” She sways her ass so much on her way back to the bar that I’m wondering if something is wrong with her.

  Except, I realize, I just don’t care.

  My eyes scope out Rose, and it only takes a second to find her dark head of hair, shinier than all the others.

  She sits with Cara, holding her fruity drink that contains more sugar than alcohol. They laugh and smile like everything is right with the world. It makes me mad, seeing their happy faces as they move on with their life.

  How can anyone be happy when the most loyal person on this earth is ten miles away and six feet underground? Breathing dirt and rotting away by the second.

  As I’m thinking these horribly dark thoughts, Rose looks over at me like she can sense my torment. I scowl at her, and she looks away to talk to Cara.

  How can Cara be so happy? The apparent love of her life was ripped away from her. Taken without consent. How is this okay? If something were to happen to Rose, I know I would never be the same.

  When Rose glances back at me, it’s with a look of determination on her face. When she gets up and starts walking over here, I shut off my emotions, tuck my already dead feelings away and prepare for her wrath.

  “Easton.” She stands there sadly, and I make sure the lock on my feelings is locked extra tight. “Good fight tonight.”

  “Why are you here, Rose?” I take a sip of my drink and look at the people around me.

  “Well, uh, to talk to you. Can we go somewhere with less people around?”

  “Nope, I’m good right here.” I lean back and spread my legs. “You can go, though, if you want. Somewhere where there are less people around.”

  She frowns at me. “Please, Easton.”

  “Out with it, Rose. Or else get the fuck out of my sight.”

  “Quit being a dick, Easton. I never did anything wrong, and you’re treating me like garbage for no reason. Do you want to be angry with the world? Fine. Do you want to punch people until they’re unconscious? Fine. But don’t take any of this out on me because I haven't done anything besides stand right by your side since day one. Day one, Easton, and I don’t deserve any of what you’re putting me through. So, shut up about it and get over yourself!”

  She’s winded when she finishes, unclenching her fists and blowing out a huge breath.

  “You finished?”

  “Are you done being a jackass?” She asks with narrowed eyes.

  “Excuse me, Easton? Can I get you another drink?” The slutty waitress asks from behind me. I turn around, and because I live in hell and apparently want to ruin my life, I say, “Sure thing, babe. Hey, you doing anything later?”

  Her cheeks grow red, and a huge smile takes over her face. “N-no! Not at all.”

  I give her a wink. “Find me later, then.”

  She trots off to get me a new drink, and when I turn around, it’s to a powerful slap to the face.

  “I hate you, Easton Malone.” Tears stream down her face. Silently they fall, but fuck if I can’t feel the pain of each one.

  “Good.” I don’t dare reach up and feel the stinging in my cheek. I deserve the pain. I deserve the red outline of her hand.

  She reaches up to slap me again, and I grab her wrist, twisting her around and backing her up into a wall. “The first one I will give you. The second one, you’re asking for trouble. Watch where you stand, Rose. You’re in my place.”

  The tears don’t stop. If anything, they start coming faster.

  “I don’t understand how we got like this.” She sobs.

  “How do you not know? I am. The fucking. Reaper. I’m not a good guy. I’m not even a nice guy. This thing you think we had, it’s fucking over. Get that through your pretty little head and move the fuck on. Quit trying to change my mind, because that shit isn’t going to work. I live in hell, and hell is where I’ll stay.”

  “You’re right. We are over. I’m not going to stand around while you fuck any slut that crosses your path. I deserve better than you, and I will have better than you.”

  She slides out from around me, and it takes all my effort not to stop her. Not to roar in rage at the thought of her with someone else.

  Yeah, she deserves someone a hell of a lot better than me. But that doesn’t mean I want to see her like that. I’m selfish. I’m greedy. I know what I want.

  I want her.

  I just can’t have her.

  “Here’s your drink, Easton. Want me to meet you back here in an hour, and we can get out of here?” She leans in close, and I almost choke on her cheap perfume.

  “Fuck off, Mindy.” I take a huge pull out of my beer and walk away before I do something I’ll regret.

  Like run after my girl.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Life might move on, but your heart doesn’t.

  Rose

  Life sucks.

  No matter how much you try to succeed, find happiness, anything, something always stands in your way.

  My something is heartbreak.

  I’ve spent my entire weekend in bed. Feigned a headache to my mom, which got her off my back. She’s not home much anyway, always spending her days with Jeff. Fine by me, I would rather lay in bed and wait for the pain to leave.

  It never does.

  If anything, the pain grows stronger with each passing day.

  I’ve ignored Cara’s phone calls to get out of the house. She understands. She was in this position not too long ago herself. It doesn’t stop her from being her persistent self, though.

  It being Monday morning, I figured I better actually go to school today. I need to graduate, get the hell away from Easton and the slut-tender, and just start over. The best-case scenario would be for me to get my diploma and move somewhere far, far away. Maybe California. Florida. The Bahamas or Costa Rica would be fun, too.

  Anywhere far away from here where I don’t have to deal with the cold weather and the even colder people.

  Rummaging through my backpack, I try to find my math workbook but give up after five minutes.

  “Where the fuck is it?” I say out loud.

  I look around my room and even go out to my car until it dawns on me.

  “Shit.”

  I left it at Easton’s back when we were together. I don’t want to go over there. I don’t want to even see him. Maybe the big-boobed whore from the bar is over there, laying in his bed and wearing his clothes.

  “Ugh!” I scrub my hand down my face. I refuse to think about this type of shit when he isn’t mine anymore. He can see, fuck, and lie to whoever he wants.

  It’s sure as hell not going to be me.

  Stomping back into my room, I grab my phone and shoot off a text to the devil himself.

  Rose: Is my math workbook over there?

  No response.

  Ten minutes later, I shoot off another one.

  Rose: Hello? I need to go to school…

  Twenty minutes later, I decide I’m not going to wait around for him anymore and send off one last text.

>   Rose: I am driving over to pick it up. Leave it outside for all I care.

  I grab my keys and head out, leaving my sweats on because I apparently give zero shits anymore. I guess I’ll just be late for school. Whatever.

  I speed over to Easton’s house, ready to get this over with and get back home. When I park, I’m relieved his truck is the only vehicle parked in front of his house. Good, the slut-tender isn’t here.

  Walking up to his door, I feel the sensation of pins and needles on the back of my neck. It feels like I’m being watched.

  I glance over my shoulder but don’t see anyone. Hmm, probably just a creepy old guy peeping at me from his window.

  I turn back around and knock on Easton’s door. When he doesn’t answer right away, I start pounding harder.

  “Easton, open up! I see your car outside. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

  The door swings open, revealing an emotionless Easton. Dead stare. No facial expressions, not even anger.

  In his fingers is my workbook.

  He hands it to me, no fight. No resistance whatsoever.

  “Um, thanks.” I stand there for a beat, but then remember I’m not putting myself through this pain anymore. “Okay, bye.”

  He shuts the door in my face, and I almost believe the last thing I saw on his face was pain. But that couldn’t be true, because he moved on already, right?

  He couldn’t possibly be having doubts about everything, right? Not when I’m finally trying to move on.

  I shake my head free of these thoughts. I could sit here all day and contemplate what I wish would happen, when I know damn well that none of those things actually will. Easton isn’t going to change, no matter how hard I try or how much I wish for it, it just isn't going to happen.

  Walking down his rickety steps, I stare at the ground with a frown on my face. Sadness overcomes me, and for once, I actually allow the tears welling up in my eyes to flow, so incredibly sad that this is what my life has become.

  It really hurts.

  It isn’t until I hear the crunching of footsteps behind me that I realize that someone is walking next to me.