“Never ignore another call, Briar.”
I’ve been wandering around the towns edge for hours, watching as the midnight stars faded in as the sun slowly rose. I’m teetering on the edge of hysteria after everything that’s happened over the past few months. The most damaging of which is my loss of control over the last week. I don’t want to be what he wants me to be, but I don’t know how to be anything else.
I rush into a public restroom and shake my head at the fact it’s unlocked and not using a blue light. Clearly the people here aren’t worried about junkies shooting up in the cubicles. I suppress the urge to vomit, my stomach still grumbling at the loss of food as much as the churning sensation when I think about how I wanted to paint a rock red over Blakely. Clarke would be so proud, I think bitterly, before turning on the faucet and splashing my face.
Looking up, I can’t stand the image staring back at me. I never could. The mirror shows us truths about ourselves that we are unwilling to accept, it holds no lies and what you see is what you get. And I hate it. I look the same, brown hair, honey eyes, naturally tanned skin, but I don’t feel the same. Once it was a lonely girl, someone with no one, never accepted, never wanted. Buthemade me feel wanted, made me feel more. And now look at me. Still a lonely girl, but no longer an innocent girl. I am what he made me, and without him, I wonder what I would be. In the darkest recesses of my mind, I hearyou are nothing.
The scream rips out of me almost violently as I stare into my reflection. I grab the nearest object and slam it into it, shattering the glass into shards that still reflect me. This is me. A little broken, a little scarred, a scream trapped in my mind with no one to hear me, with no one to hold me while I crumble.
Chapter Fourteen
My wrist aches as I make my way through classes. It’s swollen and a little purple but managed to hide it under my blazer and by wearing long sleeves. Thank God that it’s getting colder otherwise I’d be a sweaty ball on the ground. Normally the weight of the books means literally nothing to me, but today I have to grit my teeth through the pain. I’m a little worried that it’s broken. It doesn’t help that Milo and I have been practicing our routine every day this week, there’s a hardness in his demeanor since the attack. Not that I blame him. It’s like he's waiting for something else to happen.
He wanted to change up our entire routine, and the practice has been relentless to get us ready for our sports performance after the winter break. It’s rough and violent, involving twists and jumps that I can’t seem to get just right and although he’s being patient with me, I can feel the prickling under the brim. I’m just not sure if he’s irritated at me or something else.
We’re walking through to our Literature and Communication class after checking in on Peyton, something Milo’s started doing a couple times a day either in person or via text message. I know about their history together, but I also know that Peyton hasn’t let go yet either and I don’t want her getting her hopes up when he’s still engaged… or betrothed. Same same. I want to broach the subject with him, but up until this week our friendship seemed surface level which I guess I need to rethink because surface level friends don’t turn into personal bodyguards.
Because he’s a fucking saint, he somehow seems to know I’m in pain, Milo rolls his eyes at me before taking the books from my arm, and it’s at that moment that I decide to put my big girl panties on and just ask the damned question. I blurt it out.
“How’s Juniper?”Smooth.
He stiffens, clearly taken off guard, and sighs heavily, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Who fucking knows. I’m so pissed about everything. I don’t even care that I got hurt, but what kind of sick person does that, you know?”
I did know. I knew better than most about how easily influenced weak people are, and even though I’ve barely said more than two words to the girl, she is a sheep. The girl is annoying, but not a threat in the grand scheme of things. I kind of still wish she would disappear because I want Peyton and Milo to be happy and the small looks they share are filled with longing and defeat. It’s fucking dreadful. I remind myself constantly that she’s just as trapped in this as he is and that maybe that’s why she’s so destructive.
“And you’re okay with all of the rumors going around about her?” I mental palm my face because I’m most definitely not good at this thing.
“Are you asking me if I’m okay with her fucking half of the people on campus?” He looks at me amused and I sheepishly nod back at him. He releases a low laugh.
“I honestly couldn’t give a shit. It’s not like I’m fucking her.” He shudders like the idea is genuinely repulsive and I delight a little in it because we both know he’s captivated by a certain platinum blonde woman with legs for days. I get it, she’s devastatingly beautiful and as pretty as Juniper is, she’s just not Peyton, and this guy knows it.
We sit down and the teacher tells us to work on our upcoming assignment. It’s an individual assignment, but Milo and I have got into the habit of studying for it together, especially since he’s ridiculously good at this class and I am woefully behind. He gives my I-rushed-it-last-night-because-I-fucking-hate-this-class paper a look over and starts scribbling over it in red pen while I read through his to look for pointers. His assignment is brilliant and if this isn’t an A standard I’m actually worried at what mine would be marked at.
He’s slides it back over to me and rereads his own work as I grumble, rubbing my hands roughly over my eyes, when the chairs beside Milo scrape across the floor and Juniper and Blakely sit down. Milo doesn’t acknowledge her at all, just keeps working like nothing happened. She tugs on his arm lightly, but he extracts himself and scoots a little closer to me and away from her. She doesn’t like that. Juniper pouts like a child and sends me daggers with her eyes before turning to Blakely.
“Have your parent’s made the offer yet?”
“Not yet, they’re wanting to wait until the New Year. Daddy says there’s been a lot happening this year and he wants to start the year on a high note.” She rolls her eyes and checks her nails, clearly disinterested in whatever the fuck their talking about. I try to keep my eyes forward on my assignment but keep listening.
“Do you think he’ll go for it?” Blakely’s eyes flash my way, scowling briefly because smoothing out her features back into a picture perfect smile.
“We have incentives.” That’s all she says before moving on to outfits and this new designer bag her mom got her for her nineteenth birthday.
Thankfully the rest of my classes finish quickly and before I know it I’m steamrolling my bed while Milo and Peyton chat on the couch. I almost begged Milo to not practice today because I have to catch up study and although that’s true, I’m so freaking tired that I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate if I tried. I must pass out because I’m waking up to Peyton jumping on the space beside me yelling.
“Get up, get up! We’re going out.”
Groaning, I roll over onto my stomach and push a pillow down on top of my head, muffling my reply. “No, I’m sore and tired. I need to sleep and I’m procrastinating my assignments.”
“You can procrastinate at the barandhave a good time. Get dressed, It’s eight o’clock. We’re leaving in an hour and you haven’t even showered yet.”
I do not freaking move. I consider ignoring her in favor of sleep, the dark circles under my eyes are starting to look like full-blown bruises, but when I feel the bed dip beside me, I turn my head just a fraction to see her staring down at her hands, gnawing on her bottom lip. Right. I sit up, understanding that this isn’t just a demand to get drunk.
“Milo asked me to go with him tonight, as friends. After everything that went down, he’s been… I don’t know. Different, maybe? A little more like the old Milo, and I know that he’s still getting married so I can’t get my hopes up. I don’t want to confuse this for something it’s not. Please, Briar?”
I groan loudly and the smile she gives me tells me she knows she’s won. I point my finger at her, giving her a pretend glare, “That’s a party foul, Vasiliev. You can’t pull that card.” But I still drag myself up from the bed, trudging over to the shower listening to her as she excitedly squeals. This fucking girl.
I’m struggling with the zip on the back of my playsuit as the door opens and Nash and Milo enter the room. Milo’s face brightens as he see’s Peyton dressed in a navy dress that glitters as she moves and laced up ankle boots. She gives him a soft smile back, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before moving into the kitchen to fetch us whatever drinks concoction she’s managed to come up. The girl has a freaking bar in her room, I swear. There’s a whole cabinet dedicated to spirits and mixers, it’s glorious.