“You’d know, wouldn’t you?” he sneers almost. “Since you’ve been my babysitter for two years.”
Actually I’m realizing that I’ve been his baby-fucking-sitter for much longer now.
See, I’ve had time to think about it.
All the years of friendship. All the years of brotherhood.
Turns out, it was only one-sided and I was too stupid to see it.
I’ve been too fucking blind.
The thing that I thought was friendship was more of a co-dependency. Of him on me and vice versa.
He needed someone to save him from his shitty, pathetic life. And I needed someone to… need me. To want me for who I was because ofmyshitty, pathetic life.
Wasn’t it?
I saved him from those bullies, and he saved me from feeling like a perpetual disappointment.
And then I kept saving him.
I saved him every time I didn’t share about my abuse because I didn’t want to take away from his. I’m not much of a sharing type anyway, and he made it even easier by keeping it all about him and his pathetic life.
I even saved him from feeling rejected when I gave up the soccer captainship. Oh, and never told him about the coach offering it to me first. Because I always thought that whatever I learned about soccer, I learned it from him and I didn’t even like the game anyway.
So it was his.
I even gave him the girl, and it burns me —fucking burns me— that he’s the right choice for her. That he can give her everything that I can’t. He can love her when I don’t even know the fucking meaning of the word.
When all I ever seem to do is either attack her with my body or make her cry with my cruel words. And when I’m not doing that, I daydream about doing it. About vandalizing her, mauling her, fucking possessing her. Absorbing her in my body so she doesn’t know where she begins and I end.
It’s sick.
Unhealthy. Selfish. Disappointing.
“I have been, yeah. I’ll come by to pick up my check soon,” I quip, feeling angry, more at myself for being such a perpetual disappointment and inadequate. “Now if you’ll excuse me —”
“Does she know?”
“What?”
His anger is full-fledged now, flickering not only through his eyes but also his whole taut body. “You being here. Doessheknow?”
I’m not gonna lie, my heart fucking clenches up at his words.
At the tone of his words.
Taunting.
Knowing.
“Because I don’t think she’s going to like it. You trolling for pussy while hitting hers.”
“What the fuck’d you say to me?”
He chuckles. “Are you saying that you came here to fucking meditate?”
I take a step closer to him. “I’msayingdon’t fucking talk about her like that.”