Page 43 of The Monster I Am
“Cute,” Liv snickers mockingly, batting her eyelashes. “I’d wish you good luck but I really don’t want to lie.”
Laughing, she turns without elaborating, walking off. I stare daggers at her back before forcing myself to get in the truck instead of chasing after her to demand answers.
“Fuck!” I growl, hitting the steering wheel.
This is bad. Really fucking bad.
All I wanted to do was tell Bexley how I feel, to give us both a nice distraction from the chaos that’s trying to fucking drown us.
I’ve just fucked everything up. Any second now shit’s going to get a lot worse. Shots are heading straight for Bexley and it’s all because I handed them the damn gun.
Chapter thirteen
Bexley
For someone who vehemently detests running, I’m certainly giving mycardioskills a bit of a workout. But running from reality is easy. Well, sometimes.
Right now, though? I’m a fucking track star.
“I love you, Bex…”
I’ve managed to avoid Rylan since yesterday. Shamefully, I even ditched school, which in turn led to some uncomfortable text messages from Archie checking up on me.
I’m not sure who was more surprised when I told him the truth. Perhaps we’ll call it a draw.
Hiding under my blanket, this is my way to avoid face-to-face interactions. But how do you run from words?
The whole conversation keeps playing over and over in my head. For someone who prides themselves on seeing everything and always being one step ahead, I was completely blindsided.
Worst of all, I feel guilty on so many levels.
I know how hard it would have been on Rylan to confess that particular morsel of information. And to leave him hanging… Ican only hope he doesn’t hate me after this. But words are like weapons. They cut deep, sometimes leaving permanent marks. I didn’t know what to say back. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing or lie.
So, I said nothing at all.
The truth is I have no idea what I’m feeling. Everything would be far easier if I did.
There’s no denying I care for him. Hell, it’s more than just surface level, well beyond gratitude for the peace he brings to my life among the chaos.
The problem here is me.
I don’t know what love is. The concept—sure. I wish I could blame it on being young and naive. But it’s not exactly a well-kept secret that I don’t have a proper functioning heart. It’s a consequence of growing up in a broken home—something I’m reminded about too often.
The few memories I have of love are linked to familial ties that are shadowed and tainted by grief or loss. No one has ever modeled healthy relationship dynamics in front of me—at least not when my brain needed to witness and absorb it.
Iknowmy father lovedheronce upon a time, just like I know he loved me. Despite everything leading us to believe that love conquers all, it’s just not true.
Sometimes, love isn’t enough.
And sometimes, you can love someone and still break them until they become unrecognizable.
If I allow myself to believe Rylan—becausetrust me, I really want to—how can I be certain that he’s not going to hurt me?
Letting people in is hard. Trust is a one-time deal and must be earned. But I can’t move past the fact that not so long ago, he hated me. Not just hate… but despised to the point where I was an object he wanted to toy with and break.
He wanted to ruin me.
Nowthatconcept I am all too familiar and experienced in.
