Page 35 of Raced (Driven 3.50)
She doesn’t trust me.
… you’re horrible and disgusting and poisoned inside …
She’s going to leave me.
… you’re like a toxin that will kill them …
Shatter me.
… I’m the only one that is ever allowed to love you …
Break me.
… you’re worthless, Colty …
I can do worse and she can do better.
Let her go.
Push her away.
Save her.
“You really want to know?” I shout at her, hoping she flees and runs at the question but knowing not in a million years that she will. “You really want to know?”
She stands on her tiptoes, those glints of violet boring into mine, daring me to confirm what she already thinks is true in her heart. “Tell me.” Her voice is a
quiet calm when she says it. “Are you that Goddamn chicken shit you can’t fess up and just admit it? I need to hear it come out of your mouth so I can get the fuck over you and get on with my life!”
I don’t know how I swallow. I don’t know how I speak, but the words are out of my mouth before I know it. Walls re-erected and solitary confinement a Siren’s song calling to me. “I fucked Tawny.”
Poison spread.
Ship crashing against the treacherous ocean rocks.
Silence settles around us but I can hear the locking of the cell.
Feel the quicksand smothering my lungs.
The death of my resurrected soul.
“You coward!” she screams, hysteria bubbling up. “You goddamn fucking coward!”
“Coward?” I shout. Does she have any fucking clue I’m trying to save her? Trying to push her away before I can fuck this up even further? Fuck her over any further? Trying to stem the sudden feeling of need? “Coward?” I ask, trying to cover up every emotion that wants to pour out of my mouth and make this even worse. I’ll take the pain, but fuck me if I don’t want her to know that I tried to tell her. That I tried and she ignored.
Get your head on straight, Donavan. You either want her or you don’t. Decide. Figure it out because this cerebral war is fucking killing you.
Turn it back on her.
“What about you? You’re so fucking stubborn that you’ve had the truth staring you in the face for three fucking weeks. You’re up there so high and mighty on your goddamn horse you think you know everything! Well you don’t, Rylee! You don’t know shit!”
“I don’t know shit? Really, Ace? Really?” The quiet calm in her voice scares me. Does her lack of fight mean she’s over me? Fuck, no. “Well how’s this? I know a bastard when I see one.”
Self preservation wins.
“Been called worse by better, sweetheart.” I’m not sure if the words are meant as a challenge or a coup de grace. Will she fight for me or flee while she can?
I know my answer in the flash of her hand aiming for my face. Her wrists collide into my hands without a thought, our bodies crashing together with the motion, our lips inches apart. And I’m fucking frozen. Paralyzed in that space of time where I immediately take back everything I said, everything I did, and just crave the simplicity of her addictive taste.
