“MISS CLAY?” BERNIE calls out. “Your mother—”
“Can call me if she needs me,” I snap, racing up the stairs of my house.
I jog quickly past the housekeeper, carrying my duffel bag. I dive into my room, slamming and locking the door.
Ugh, that bitch. I hate her. So calm. So smooth. So patient.
I gulp, running my hands through my hair. So beautiful with those tears in her eyes.
Keeping the lights off, I drop the bag to the floor and fall into the door.
Why did I do that? Tears immediately spill down my face as I squeeze my eyes shut. Too far. You went too far. I’ve never laid my hands on her. Ever. I just…
I just…
It feels like there are hands on me instead. On my back and on my neck, pushing me down. Pushing my head down and keeping it down. The earth piles over my head, the dirt in my mouth and my nose, more and more every day, and I can’t see me anymore. I’m small. I don’t know who I am. I’m always mad. Bitter. Afraid.
That’s all I am anymore.
I turn, pressing my forehead into the door and sob. Why did I do that to her? What does she matter anyway?
But even now, I still feel it. She’s bigger than me. She glows, and I don’t, and it’s not like I even want to push her down and make her shrink. It’s like…
It’s like being in her orbit, I can feel the shine, too. I feel bigger with her close.
Stripping off my clothes, I head into my bathroom, unable to turn on the water and climb in fast enough. I’m supposed to help Mrs. Gates at the funeral home today, and I should go, because it’s the only thing that puts my shit into perspective, but I just can’t. I can’t talk to anyone right now.
Wetting my hair and letting the hot water course down over my body, I can’t make my muscles ease, everything still as tight as a rubber band.
But the peace feels good, and my breathing starts to even out.
I sit down in the bathtub, hugging my knees to my body.
I miss my dad. I miss Angsty Teen Tuesdays where my mom and I would alternate every week—her showing me teen movies from her day, and then me showing her some of mine—complete with Melted Milk Dud Popcorn and Mountain Dew.
I miss the pills when I try not to take them. It scares me how I miss them.
I notice an ache in my hand and realize my fingers are curled into a fist. I look down, slowly opening it and find Liv’s underwear in my hand.
I took them. I knew I took them, but I forgot they were there. My stomach flips, the shower wetting the black lace. Does she normally wear pretty things like this every day?
My knees still bent, I hold up the underwear with both hands, my head going places I don’t understand. Does she sleep in them? Does she sleep in only these? How many people have seen her in them? Has Megan Martelle?
A picture forms in my head of Liv wearing these, and I hear my voice again.
I can’t believe the state of you.
My eyes burn, thinking of all the insane shit I wrote all over her today. How I violated her.
She’s not ugly. I hated that I couldn’t find anything wrong with her, and I shouldn’t have touched her. It hurt her.
I touched her skin, and she never said it was okay. My fingertips tingle, still feeling her smooth stomach and arms.
I grind the fabric between my fingers, the tornado inside my body raging again like it did when the shame and heartache of having her naked before me raged in the theater.
She’ll hate me forever now. That’s what I want, right?
I’d gone too far. I had to.
I lie back in the tub, the spray showering down on me. Leaning my head on my hand, I fist the underwear again and again, my gaze falling into a void in my head where I only see her.
In here with me.
Quiet with me.
Close with me.
Her head between my thighs.
I moan, my head falling back as I rub my pussy and roll my clit under my fingers through her panties.
“Fuck,” I groan, the friction of her lacy fabric a little scratchy, but it feels so good.
Yes.
But then I open my eyes and stop, my body aching with need as horror sets in at what I’m doing.
A need I’ve never felt with Callum.
No. Tears well. Fuck no.
I squeeze the panties in my hand and fly to my feet, slamming my palm into the shower wall and see Alli on that slab and what the world did to her for wanting something people didn’t think she should.
I’ll fuck him. I’ll fuck him a dozen different ways, slow and fast, hard and gentle. And if that doesn’t prove anything, I’ll find someone else to give it to me.