Malum part 2

Tillie

I tug on the hem of the dress that I borrowed from Bailey. It’s a long sleeve, see-through black garment that cuts off at my upper thigh. I paired it with a lace black bra underneath and—black cheeky boyshorts. I’m not proud of this dress choice, but I’m feeling hasty tonight. I don’t want to think about my past. I want it to disappear. I want to feel numb. I’m tired of hurting. As much as I think to myself that I need to turn dead inside against certain things or people, I don’t work like that. I can act like situations don’t affect me, but I’m only lying to myself. I’m good with lying to myself, and to others around me. If this is the only way that I’m going to be able to swim to the shoreline of peace, then I’ll make sure I float and not sink.

The music is blasting, spilling inside from the outside garden. At night, it’s even more spooky out there. I’m not sold on it. The back of Brantley’s house shows the design of the actual house. The left and right wing is cut into a U-shape, the whole inside of that U-shape is a mass garden. Flowers of all sorts springing up, displaying the only sign of life. It’s interesting, and not something I would have expected out here. Behind the gardens is where a large bonfire is blazing through the dark night, right before the backyard morphs into the forest and, yes, the Vitiosis graveyard which is obviously hidden between the trees in the forest somewhere.

I shiver, goosebumps breaking out over my skin. Everything Bran Bran is so creepy.

A glass is handed to me from behind, so I turn to face the owner. Cash is staring down at me with an eyebrow raised. “Thought you might need this.”

“Thanks.” I take it from him, bringing the rim to my lips.

“I take it boyfriends one and two haven’t seen you yet?” He raises a perfect eyebrow, his eyes dropping down my body.

“Bran Bran and Nate? No.” I shake my head, chuckling to myself. I didn’t plan to drink tonight. I still don’t like drinking, but one glass won’t hurt. I let the burn soothe my erratic heart and thoughts.

“Come, there are a whole bunch of people here that would love to see you…”

“Really?” I smirk, assessing him. “You’re an awful friend, Cash.”

“Aw.” He presses his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt, princess. Truly hurt.”

I shove him playfully as we make our way to the bonfire. There are people scattered around, sitting on old logs and drinking out of plastic cups. People I haven’t even seen before. When we get close enough, they all pause, everything falling silent, except for the song that’s playing through the loudspeakers that are set up outside.

My eyes drop, the silence a

I turn to face Cash. “Are they all in our world?”

Cash laughs. “Hell naw. They just know who you are.”

“Huh.” I swallow a large gulp of my drink. “Interesting.”

“How is that interesting?” Cash asks, studying me carefully.

“That they know who I am, yet I don’t.” It’s true. I don’t. I used to know who I was. Why I was here and my purpose. I had a vision for what my life was going to be like, but I had a life worth living because I had someone to live for. Now I don’t. Giving birth to a baby is only a small part of becoming a mother. I had become a mother when I saw those two pink lines telling me that I was pregnant. That was when my thoughts started to shift into mother mode. Now? I can’t.

I take another sip of my drink, refilling it with the bottle of whiskey that’s sitting beside Eli. So much for just one glass and I don’t drink. It’s just Eli, Cash, Jase, and Hunter sitting with me. I notice how they all surround me like loyal wolves. They may be savage, they may be heartless, ruthless, and completely unattainable to most people, but with me, they’re different. I know that and respect it. It is subtle, but it’s there.

“Princessa, I think you’ve had enough…” Hunter says, judging me while passing the bottle of whiskey.

“Last I checked.” I snatch the bottle from him and pour more into my glass. That’s right. Glass. I get a motherfucking whiskey glass while everyone else here is drinking out of red Solo cups. “I’m my own woman, and also, no one owns me—”

“—You sure about that?” Nate’s voice interrupts us. I stiffen, refusing to turn and face him. “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” by Ariana Grande starts playing.

“Positive!” I roll my eyes, ignoring the fact that he looks more beautiful than ever.

His hair is a deadly combination of I don’t give a fuck and I stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine. His tattoos sneak out of his collar, wrapping around his neck, as well as all of his arm tattoos that peek out from beneath his sharp white tee. All of that matched with black ripped jeans and Timberlands is a pot of witchcraft, threatening to spill over the edges and curse us all.

“You go

“Yes.”

I stand up, realizing I want to switch my poison. I’m not really a whiskey girl. In fact, I hate the stuff. If I’m going to drink, I’d like to get a sugar hit as well.

Nate stills, his eyes falling down my body. I fucking love this song.

“Well, well, well, my little terror clearly looks like she’s out to play tonight,” Brantley mutters, sidestepping Nate and making his way to me.

I feel his hands on my waist, but Nate’s eyes are what I feel the most. He’s not touching me, but he doesn’t need to. That’s just Nate. That’s me, and that’s him, but whatever we have, it’s not enough for me to forgive him. I still don’t understand his wrath when he locked me in the cell, and until someone tells me why, I’ll continue to not understand it. He turned feral, and I saw the worst of him, but lately, he has also been showing me more of the side that made me fall in love with him to begin with. I hate it. It’s so much easier to hate him when he’s being mean.

“Play, she will,” I whisper, swallowing the remainder of my drink anyway. Nate’s eyes are still on mine. I hate that I’m a slave to the way he makes me feel. I don’t like not being in control, and that’s exactly what he does to me—he takes my control. When he watches me, he doesn’t just look at me. He studies me, examines me, strips the flesh from my bones with a simple squint of an eye.

I quickly shove past everyone and make my way into the kitchen in search for something with an actual taste instead of drinking lighter fluid.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I answer it without checking to see who it is.

“You’re at Brantley’s, aren’t you?” Madison says through the phone. I go to open my mouth to tell her that I was going to actually mention that to her, but she cuts me off. “Don’t. I understand, Tillie. I just wish—I wish I could talk to you.”

“You can, Madison. Whatever is going on with the two of you, you know that I’m always here and I understand—”

My response is cut short because the front door opens, and Madison and Tate walk through, dressed to the fucking nines.