Page 61 of Cry Baby
“You got him drunk as fuck and led him to a creepy abandoned mansion,” he accused, trying and failing to get up.
“He had two beers.”
“You walked him into the woods alone at night.”
“He walked beside me.”
“He could barely stand up,” he protested, and I barked out a harsh laugh.
“That’s your theory?”
“It’s what I saw, asshole.”
“You don’t know a goddamn thing about what you saw. Maybe you are drunk too.”
His jaw clenched. “I know what I see. I am highly trained, and you are all kinds of fucked up. I know something is off about you.”
“Perhaps. But as you cops know, you need proof. Where is yours, Pig?”
“I watched you manipulate him all night.”
“You watched me? How cute?”
His expression hardened, and his jaw tightened even further.
“I watched you isolate him and walk off with him. He’d never go with someone like you. What did you do, freak? Drug him? Get your whore to roofie him behind my back?”
Something inside me snapped and I walked up to the struggling buffoon on the ground.
“You self-righteous prick. You can’t see beyond your own pig pen, can you? Roll around in shit all day, even you grew weary.” I grabbed the front of his jacket before I even realized I’d moved, lifting him up slightly off the ground into a seated position.
His head jerked back, and he growled, latching onto my wrists.
“You think I’m some predator, huh ?”
“I think decent people don’t lure drunk strangers into the fucking woods.”
I shoved him hard, throwing him back on the ground and reveling in the grunt of pain. His injured ankle folded beneath him, but instead of going down again completely, he caught my hoodie and yanked me with him.
We stumbled together.
He recovered first, shoving me square in the chest, and punching me in the nose until it sprayed his hand with blood.
“You can be pissed all you want,” he growled, “but if I think someone’s about to get hurt, I’m stepping in.”
I laughed right at him, spewing the red blood onto his face.
“So possessive of your toys, Piggy.”
“Fuck you. I protect my own.”
“No,” I snapped. “Funny. You fuck all of the men in your unit? What would that boyfriend say?
His eyes flashed. “Fuck you. He’s not my boyfriend. You won’t get to me. I’ve dealt with men like you before. A fucking dog.”
That hit harder than the shove for some reason, and for a split second, I just stared at him. The anger burned away every other thought I had, and I spit more blood on the ground.
“Say that again.”
