Page 48 of The Monster I Am
He knew exactly what to do, what buttons to press, proving that he’s a master in the twisted web of destruction that seems to be taught as part of the Willowbrook syllabus.
I hate that he knew how to hurt me. It wasn’t just words, but a complete follow through—an entire plan designed and executed with the goal to deliver a fatal blow to my mental stability.
I’ve become numb to my surroundings, a dangerous state to be in, because when my front door is slammed open again despite being locked, I don’t react at all this time.
Footsteps start to stomp down the hallway toward my bedroom before whoever is breaking in must spot me in my upright, fetal position on the ground, back leaning against the armchair.
At least I know it’s not Max again—the heavy footsteps indicating that this is pure, uncontrolled anger and not carefully constructed intimidation.
“Duchess! What the fuck are you doing and why haven’t you been at school again? I’m getting real sick of your shit. How are we supposed to sort out anything when you’re toobusyto bother to show up?”
Great. Just fucking great.
Resting my cheek on my tucked knees, I don’t bother to turn my head toward him. “Go away, Lannister.”
I hear his feet drag on the carpet as he grinds to a sudden halt from the sound of my cracked voice.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, too concerned for my liking.
His legs appear in front of me before I have a chance to respond—not that I was intending to.
“Spencer,” he huffs, before raising his voice and trying again. “Bexley—look at me.”
“Just go away,” I groan, frustrated and exhausted. “I’ll be back tomorrow. But I’m too fucking tired to fight with you right now. I cannot deal with today’s mental breakdown.”
Lannister crouches down so our faces are level. “Tomorrow is Saturday,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Just fucking look at me. Please.”
Finally, I swivel my neck to stare at him. “Why are you here, Hunter?” I implore, exasperated. “Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”
“Because I can’t.”
All I can muster is a frown at his response. Hunter sighs defeatedly, closing the distance to the floor as he sits down in front of me.
“Not going to make some smart comment about it?” He challenges. “Mock me?”
I shuffle, lowering my legs from my chest to mimic his crossed legs. “Not my style. But I am good at listening.”
Hunter snorts, seemingly annoyed with himself. He leans back with his palms flat on the floor. “I need to fight with you.” Pausing, he turns his head to look away. “It’s the only thing recently that helps me feel anything.”
“You want to punish me for what happened to you?”
“No,” he hastily replies. “God, no. I wish it was that simple.” He sighs deeply, explaining, “It just feels like lately I’m disconnected from everyone and everything. And the only person who would understand…”
“... Is me,” I finish for him.
Hunter nods. “I want to hate you so bad, Duchess. But ever since the night of the fire…” He trails off. “It’s fucked me up real bad.”
“It was just a little fire,” I joke. “You can still hate me.”
My heart beat jolts when his eyes swiftly snap to mine, a swirling intensity swimming in the green hues.
“You saved me,” he states simply. “And worst of all, you allowed me to see the fear you felt in those moments. That’s all I can think about.”
My brows furrow. “My fear of being burned alive?”
He laughs dryly. “That you let me in when I didn’t deserve it. It’s easier to hate you when you’re being an annoying, frustrating bitch.”
“Oh, I see,” I murmur comically. “My human emotions have confused you. My bad.”
