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Chapter 17
I’m getting fucking sick of this not sleeping bullshit. First, it was the weekend without my knife, then it was the effects of seeing that old photograph of Lucien, and now this.
Last night, the boys helped me to see that I was strong enough to move on and just when I thought I’d suffered through the worst and was coming out the other end, I go crashing back down.
Why the hell was Lucien texting Slade? There’s no way that those two just happen to know each other. I’m the common factor and that tells me that Lucien knows about not only me but Blake too.
All this time I was begi
I feel like such a fool.
We haven’t been safe here at all and what’s worse is that I brought all this bullshit to Shay and Ben’s front door. What if he comes for us? What if he…no. I can’t think like that anymore. I survived. I can’t keep thinking of myself as a victim.
I can’t sit here and wait for him to come. We have to fight. We have to do something, but first…Slade.
I knew Slade was a dick, but to be in league with Lucien? It stings. Slade and I are by no means friends or even on good terms…apart from that whole eating my pussy like a fucking pro thing. I thought things between us were starting to get better. I mean, he hadn’t tried to humiliate me in a while. The air certainly wasn’t clear between us, but it was getting clearer. Until now.
I’ve stayed up all night trying to work out what their co
I glance over at the clock. It’s seven in the morning so I guess that’s an acceptable time to get out of bed. School doesn’t start until nine so I have two hours to kill and the only way that’s going to happen is by trying to get lost in my artwork.
I trudge out of bed while rubbing the palm of my hand. I was clutching onto my knife so tight all night that my hand quickly went dead, but I didn’t dare let it go. There’s something about the cover of darkness that makes everything seem so terrifying but now that the sun has risen over the horizon, I’m finally able to relax. I mean, you don’t see boogeymen coming out during the day, but then I guess it depends on the definition of what a boogeyman is. In reality, I suppose everyone’s version is different.
I find a hoodie and pull it over my head before walking over to my desk and clearing a space to work. I should probably get up and have a little breakfast or brush my teeth, but holing up in my room just sounds so good and I really doubt I’d be good company right now.
I check over my pencils and sharpen them before getting started, but I still struggle to free my mind.
I think over the text, picturing the words in my head as they appeared on Slade’s screen.
‘Is it done? Your time is ru Is what done? And what’s he ru There’s no mention of me but what else could it be? Maybe this has more to do with Blake. Lucien was always looking out for his basketball career. Maybe after everything, he still wants to see him succeed. Nah, that’s not possible. If anything, he’s probably hired Slade to destroy his chances of making it big just out of spite…either that or to hurt me. Fuck me, I need answers and the second I have a chance to get them, I won’t hold back. Just as I had hoped, the art does its magic and draws me over to the dark side and when I finally glance up at the sound of my phone, I realize it’s nearly eleven in the morning. “Oh, fuck,” I screech, throwing myself out of my chair and making a mess of my art supplies. I tear out of my pajamas while desperately searching for something to wear and the second I’m dressed, I scramble for my phone. Blake – Where the fuck are you? Shit, shit, shit. My mantra repeats a few dozen times until I fly into the bathroom and brush my teeth. I grab a banana from the fruit bowl and a second later, I’m out the door, rushing toward Aston Creek High. What was I thinking letting myself get lost in my art? I could have demanded the answers I need hours ago and now Slade probably thinks I’ve bitched out and am too afraid to face him. The thought has rage pulsing through my veins. I’m not afraid. Not of him. Not of anyone. Not anymore. I slam through the doors of the school in record time and despite the time of year, I’ve still managed to work myself up into a light sweat which only adds to my anger. I hate sweating, I know it’s natural and all that, but there’s nothing worse unless it’s done between the sheets with two guys who know exactly what they’re doing. FUCK. I do not want to be thinking about that right now. I want to hate him. Hell, I want to hate Damian as well, just on principle. He betrayed me. I don’t even know if he realizes just how bad this is, but damn it, I’m going to be sure to let him know just how badly he fucked up. It takes me all of three seconds to realize the school is on their first break of the day and I let out a relieved breath. At least I’m not going to have to wait. Though, considering the mood I’m currently in, I probably would have gone from classroom to classroom, barging down doors until I found the fucker. At this time of the day, there are only two places that he’d be. Cafeteria or basketball courts, and despite hating that I know that about him, I head off to the cafeteria. I push through the doors with a heavy grunt, hating how big these damn things are. My eyes zone in on his usual table. He’s not there which only leaves the basketball court. I don’t waste a single second. My legs move faster than lightning as my eyes desperately flick around. People are pushed out of my way, but they’re not given a second thought. I need to get to him. I need to know why Lucien was texting him. I reach the outdoor basketball courts, hearing the sound of the balls dribbling up and down the court before I see them. I don’t doubt that Blake is here somewhere and I pray to God that he doesn’t feel the need to intervene right now because something tells me that this isn’t going to be pretty. I zone in on Slade. He’s facing away, heading up the court and dominating the ball as a few of his teammates attempt to take it from him. He hasn’t seen me yet, but Nessa’s comments tell me that she’s more than aware of my presence. “Well, if it isn’t the girl who faked her parents’ murder,” she mutters darkly. I don’t even bother looking her way but her comments have Slade launching the ball so hard into her chest that it knocks the breath right out of her lungs. “Knock it off,” he growls. “It’s fucking true.” Nessa’s eyes go wide and she gawks at me in horror which is when I realize that Blake mustn’t be around as if he was, Nessa would currently have him crowding her and demanding an apology. Slade turns on me, his eyes instantly zoning in on mine. There’s a strange hesitation that looks odd on him and I realize it’s because he no longer knows where we stand. Are we still hating each other or are we cool? He has no fucking idea but I’m more than happy to remind him.