“Little Sister, talk to me,” he says, his voice frantic. He’s shaking now, too. Terror lances through his features as he swallows hard and looks into my eyes. Guilt and self-hatred pour through me in equal measures, slicing me right down the middle.
I keep thinking that this is it, that I’ve officially hit rock-bottom, that I couldn’t possibly hate myself anymore than I do in any given moment. And yet, there’s always more distance to fall, always more space for that sticky, dirty self-loathing to creep through my veins like poison.
I hand over the phone and Chasm snatches it up, looking through the text messages with a sharp fear in his amber eyes. As he reads, that fear changes to something else, something that I well-recognize: disbelief.
“No,” he says, thrusting the phone back at me. He’s shaking even harder now. “No.” His voice is breathless and high, laced with shock. “I can’t do that to him. I won’t.”
Before I even get a chance to reply, Chas is snatching me by the hand. He drags me across the hall and around the corner, escorting me to my second class without giving me a chance to talk this over. We’re both already late anyway, but it doesn’t matter.
Chasm drops me off and disappears, leaving me to slink into the room and take my seat with my heart threatening to pound its way right out of my chest.
Act on my feelings?
What are my feelings for Chasm, exactly?
Be honest with yourself. Anything less will displease me.
The words of that text hammer against the sides of my skull until I’m nursing a terrible migraine, one that seems to pulse right through the broken bones of my nose and fingers, making me hurt so bad that I just want to break something. I just want to tell the world, so I don’t have the burden of this secret any longer.
If I were a weaker person, I just might. It’d be so easy to march up to Tess and give her the phone, explain to her all the things that have been happening, and let her relay all of that information to the authorities. Then it wouldn’t be my problem anymore, would it?
It’d be everyone else’s fucking problem.
Parrish.
I close my eyes and think about the way his lips felt against mine, like he was communicating all of the things he ever wanted to say to me through his kiss. I think about the way he looked in the basement that day, with tears brimming in his eyes, his jaw clenched tight, crammed with so much emotion that he didn’t know what to do with any of it.
Mostly, I think about our naked bodies entwined together on his bed, the feel of his cock inside of me, how I felt so close to him, so complete, so happy.
Gamer Girl versus Serial Killer … and I am currently getting my ass handed to me.
If I was aiming for the high score in this game, I’m failing miserably. Instead of anticipating and getting ahead of each of the Slayer’s moves, I’m simply reacting. The best I’ve been able to do is earn Parrish a bed and a chance to be unchained. That’s it. But he needs so much more than that.
I want to see him, I text back. Video chat me so I can make sure you’re keeping your word.
Surprisingly, my demand seems to please my bio dad. Again, if he even is my bio dad at all and not some crazy rando off the street.
Let’s see how today goes, shall we? Dig deep, Mia. Ask yourself what you want and then let yourself have it. The only feelings you should consider are your own.
Once again, I spend the entirety of class trying to get myself together.
I’m not an idiot.
I understand what this means; I know what the Slayer wants.
Because I know what I want, what I’d …
I’ve had these thoughts before, about Parrish and Chasm. If I could, I’d have them both. I’ve known that for a long time, even if I tried my best to deny and ignore it. That isn’t how the world works. Or rather, it isn’t how the world is supposed to work. The guy you love isn’t supposed to disappear the night after you lose your virginities to each other. He isn’t supposed to be tied to a chair and bleeding. He most definitely shouldn’t have to suffer through all of that while his best friend and his girlfriend …
I shoot to my feet as soon as the bell rings, unsure if Chasm is even going to show up to get me.
He does, thankfully, but he isn’t happy about it. This time, he refrains from touching my hand at all.
“We need to talk,” I tell him, but he won’t look at me. Instead, he just starts walking away, and I follow. We end up back in the handicapped bathroom all over again. The mirror has already been fixed, unsurprising considering the elite nature of the school, but I really hope that Chas doesn’t punch it again. His hand is still sliced up and a tad swollen.
