Today has been a clusterfuck since the morning.
Or maybe my life has been a clusterfuck since the beginning and I’m only starting to see it.
Dad and I had the talk about rehab – secret, of course, because he can’t risk his political enemies or the press finding out that his loser son is detained.
Obviously, I said no. Then he reminded me of Mum’s drinking problems and that I’m becoming like her.
So I told him, I wish I’d stayed with my mum and her drinking and mental problems and not with him.
He gave me a strange look, something that made me kind of regret what I said, then he left.
I shouldn’t feel sorry about Dad; he should be feeling sorry towards me. He ruined my life in more ways than one, and I don’t even mean with Mum.
He did something way worse that’s been slowly but surely destroying my life.
After all, he’s Lewis Knight. If he can survive the parliament’s questioning, he can survive his son.
Then I kind of tried to beat Cole and Aiden up for allowing Kimberly to come to my room that night and instigating it. I have no doubt in my mind that they’re the reason behind it.
Cole just laughed and said, ‘so something did happen’. Aiden smirked like a fucking psycho and patted me on the back.
I was too drunk to hit them anyway, so it ended up being half-arsed punches.
They might have prepared the ground, but I was the one who kissed her, claimed her tongue, ate her like a starved animal, then fucked her mouth as if it’s always belonged to me.
My insides shrink at the thought, at the memory, at what the fuck I’ve done.
I lied to her.
There’s no way I can pretend it didn’t happen. For three days, that night is all I’ve been thinking about.
I can lie to myself and say that it’ll wither away with time, but like all my memories with her, they’ll just strengthen and magnify, and all I’ll want to do is to bust into her room and repeat it for eternity.
Fuck you, twisted up mind. You should burn with Cole.
As if my week hasn’t already been complete shit, I’m also sitting with none other than the main bastard whose murder I’ve been plotting for a while now.
Ronan and I are at the Meet Up because the captain called a meeting for the football players. I’m ready for anything that’ll stop me from acting on my impulses.
I might have had a drink on the way here, but it’s only one. I’m not losing my mind enough to not recognise that the fucker, Cole, set us up.
Ronan is grinning like a fucking idiot as he sits opposite me. My fist clenches to pound him to the ground.
“Long time no see, Knight. You know, remotely sober.”
“Fuck you, Astor.” I stare anywhere but at him.
The Meet Up is a small cottage owned by Aiden with direct access to the forest and a lake at the back. It’s cosy with warm wooden colours. The four of us always come here to escape our families. There’s something liberating about shedding our confinements and our names and the shit expected of us.
We were taught what we should become before we learnt what it was like to be kids. That’s probably why we were never actually children.
Young in bodies. Elderly in minds.
I recall when Elsa brought Kimberly here for the first time. She watched the space with wonder in her green eyes. It’s the same look she has when reading her books and watching her dramas.
For years, I made it a point to separate her from the group because if she was close to my friends, she’d be close to me, and I couldn’t do that.
Until I fucked it up.
I might have ignored her for the past few days, but she’s been the only one I see. The only one I watch. The only one who exists in a sea of blurry existences.
There are people and there’s her. And she always shines bright amongst them.
“Why has she been absent today, Knight?”
“I’m not her fucking guardian.” I made it a point not to watch her today, if I don’t count the time she picked up Kirian. I was watching him, not her.
“You’re right, I should visit and ask myself.” He grins. “After all, we’re dating.”
“Or I can beat you up.” I smile back.
“Fine. Get all that energy out. The faster you’re finished, the sooner I’ll go to her.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Astor? Since when do you care about her this much?”
“Since you don’t care, mon ami. I’m all for tortured heroines.”
A sigh rips from me. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what I don’t think.”
I considered doing that since he started being a little fucker about this whole situation. After all, Aiden and Cole know. I only told Aiden on a drunk night, and Cole figured it out on his own.
Astor, however, has a big mouth. If he knows, she will, and I don’t have any state of mind to deal with that.
“You’ll tell her.” I lift a shoulder.
“If it’s something about her, then damn straight I’ll tell her.” He pauses. “Attend une seconde. The others know?”
“Define know.”
“What the fuck, Knight? I tell you all my shit.”
“And I don’t publish it on the Daily Mail, unlike you, fucker.”
“Well, since we’re at it.” He smiles his innocent but secretly evil smile as he stands up. “I told her about the rehab, leaving the country, and oh, that you always watch her.”
“What. The. Fuck.”
He glances back at me. “You know what? I’m taking her away, Knight. It’s done.”
One moment, I’m sitting there, the next, I jerk up, crash with him to the ground, and start beating him up. This time, he doesn’t stay still and he fights me as well. We roll around, wrestling and hitting each other. A table falls and something breaks, but we don’t stop.
“You’re supposed to be my friend, my fucking friend.” I punch him.
“And you’re supposed to be better than this.” He punches me.
I don’t know how long we go at it, but it’s long enough that I lose the feeling of my fists and Ronan’s mouth and nose become bloodied. Mine is probably the same, considering the burn in my bottom lip.
We fall back on the carpet, lying side by side, breathing harshly in the silence of the room.
“I’m just disappointed in you,” Ronan says in the most serious tone I’ve heard on him. “I hate seeing you hurt her and being hurt in return. What the fuck are you? A masochist?”
I laugh, but it’s humourless. “Probably, yes.”
“Your mum left because your dad hurt her. How can you repeat the cycle, connard?”
“Believe me, it’s not the same.”
“How so?”
I release a sigh, and I’m about to cave in and just let it all out. I might have grown up with Aiden and Cole, but Ronan is the closest to me. We always gravitated towards each other like Aiden and Cole did. It’s nature. And ever since Ronan told me his deadly secret a few years back, I connected to him more than ever before.
The only reason why I haven’t told him my secret is because, unlike me, he really doesn’t keep his mouth shut.
Before I can carry on with the crazy idea, the door opens.
Aiden and Elsa come inside, arms around each other while Teal walks alongside them. We’re watching them upside down, considering our position.
My chest tightens when I search behind them and there’s no trace of her.
Not that I want to see her.
Lie.
You’re a fucking liar.
I need a drink – or two – right about now.
“Fuck, I missed the fight.” Aiden appears genuinely offended. Arsehole.
Ronan stands up first and offers me his hand. I take it as I rise to my feet and wipe my bottom lip with my thumb.
“Where’s that fucker Nash?” I ask.
“Busy.” Aiden motions at us. “By all means, don’t stop on our account. Can we have a redo?”
“Sex and drugs and now violence.” Teal stares down at Ronan like he’s a stray, dirty dog. “What a charmer.”
Since he’s close to me, I notice the change in his demeanour, the way his body leans forward as if for a fight, but he grins, showing his teeth.
“Glad to be of entertainment, ma belle.”
“Entertainment?” She rolls her eyes. “More like a war zone.”
“Then you should take shelter, huh?”
“Are you okay?” Elsa leaves Aiden’s side and retrieves tissues from her bag to wipe the blood off Ronan’s mouth and nose.
Teal puts earbuds in and saunters to the midst of all the mess as if it doesn’t exist. Then she sits on the sofa, saying in no uncertain terms that she’s lost interest in the scene.
No idea why she’s here anyway.
While Elsa wipes Ronan’s face, Aiden’s left eye twitches, which means his inner demon is about to come out.
Just to be a dick, I say, “What about me, Elsa? He ruined my face.”
“Not you.” She doesn’t break her attention from Ronan.
“Not him either.” Aiden pulls her by the arm and throws the tissues at Ronan’s chest.
The latter smirks. “But I like Ellie’s soft hands.”
Aiden offers him a mock smile. “I’m sure you’ll also like the grave I’ve been digging for you. I’m making it nice and cosy.”
“Why not me?” I ask Elsa.
“You’re acting as if you don’t know?” She folds her arms over her chest, pinning me with a scowl like a stern teacher.
“I don’t know.”
“I can’t believe this. You’re such an arrogant bastard.”
I give her a smug grin. “I’d probably take the compliment better if we put it into context.”
“Kim pretended to have a fever so she could escape you today. She’s not even answering my calls or texts.”
Ronan glares at me as if to say, ‘I told you so.’
I resist the urge to flip him off. “As I was saying, I’m not her guardian.”
“Then stop confusing her, damn it,” Elsa snaps. “Leave her alone so she can pick up her life without you polluting it.”
“Too bad you don’t get to tell me what to do.” I wave at them. “I’m out of here.”
“You’re just a coward!” Elsa shouts at my back. “You’ll never deserve her.”
I glance at her over my shoulder as Aiden holds her in place with both arms around her stomach while she struggles to be set free to no avail.
“We agree on that,” I say, and then I’m out in the night.
The cold air causes goosebumps to erupt over my skin. My face turns numb and the freezing air seeps to my bones.
I stop in front of my car, retrieve a joint, and light it. The smoke is like an instant tranquiliser. I close my eyes for a bit, savouring the pungent taste.
My options are either to drink or to fight.
Or I can do both at the same time.
After all, I’m on a limited time until I’m shipped off to where Dad sees fit. I’m eighteen and could leave on my own, but where would I go?
Maybe it’s the thought of being alone that grates on my skin more than the lack of the luxurious life.
I can see myself ten years from now, partying and fighting and drinking. Or maybe I won’t be alive ten years from now, because I’ll get myself killed in one of those fights.
Or because of drowning my liver in alcohol.
My phone vibrates.
I leave the joint in my mouth as I retrieve it.
The thing in my chest picks up speed immediately. It’s as if I’m in a bleak world and then she barges in like a spark.
A spark I’ve been slowly killing – while also killing myself.
It’s a text message.
Kimberly: I wish you were never my friend. I wish you had never told me you’d be there for me. I wish you didn’t know so much about me and still chose not to be with me. I wish there was never me or you or us.
My lips part and the joint nearly falls to the ground as I read and re-read the text.
No.
No, she didn’t.
I hit her name and call her. She doesn’t pick up. I kick the car and don’t stop to think about the pain as I type.
Xander: Pick up the fucking phone, Kimberly.
No answer.
Xander: I don’t wish I didn’t meet you. I never did.
Still nothing.
Fuck!
I throw the joint away and jump into my car, driving back home in a speed I’ve never done before.
I arrive in five minutes sharp. All the time, I keep calling her over and over again.
Then I call Kir and he says he’s spending the night with his friend.
That makes me hit the steering wheel as soon as I hang up on him. He’s been her balance, and the one she’s looked at when she’s had those destructive thoughts.
Now that he isn’t there, there’s nothing that stops her.
Don’t you dare, Green. Don’t you fucking dare.
I swerve the car to the Reed’s driveway and barge outside, not bothering to close the Porsche’s door.
I don’t pretend to be clueless as I hit in the code to their house. I’ve seen her put it a thousand times. Besides, Kir often forgets it and I have to help him.
No one greets me when I step inside. That bitch Jeanine must be in her studio, and Mari is probably fast asleep.
I hit in the code again to shut off the alarm, then I ascend the stairs two steps at a time.
There’s been this something in my chest since I read her text. Something morbid and dark and so fucking wrong.
Don’t.
Don’t.
Don’t.
I pause outside her room, my fingers hesitant as I push the door open.
There hasn’t been a day where I forgot where her room is or how we used to sit and watch shows together, or how she used to tell me jokes that weren’t funny, but I laughed anyway because her expression was adorable.
The fact I’m coming back here under these circumstances is like a jab straight to the groin.
“Kimberly.” Her name catches in my throat as my feet slowly drag on the floor.
No answer.
“I’m coming in.”
Still no reply.
I step into her room, and there’s no one there. Just her made-up bed and the open wardrobe that’s filled with green clothes.
Instead of releasing a breath of relief, I’m unable to breathe at all. My lungs burn as I head to the bathroom, a strange premonition telling me she’s there.
“Kimberly?” I call in a helpless try to get an answer. Or a sound.
Anything from her would do.
I drag my feet to the entrance and the worst-case scenario materialises in front of me.
Blood.
So much fucking blood.
Kimberly sits on the floor beside the toilet, her back leaning against the wall, and she’s surrounded by bags of crisps, pills, and a bottle of alcohol.
Her head lolls at an awkward angle and her green strands half-camouflage her expression.
My eyes go straight to the trail of blood soaking her cat pyjamas and the tiles beneath her.
So much fucking blood.
One of her hands holds a blade and her previously scarred wrist is now cut open, oozing blood all over the white tiles.
I run towards her, cursing out loud like a lunatic and grab towels on the way.
The first towel soaks immediately after I wrap it, so I add another one. Then something glints in her cut hand.
A bloodied bracelet dangles from her fingers.
I almost break at the view. It’s the bracelet I gave her for her eleventh birthday. The last gift I ever gave her, which I thought she threw away.
I push that thought out of the present and place two fingers on the pulse point in her neck while keeping pressure on her wrist.
The waiting time is probably seconds, but it feels like centuries. The more she doesn’t show any sign of life, the more I stop breathing altogether.
“Come on, Green.” My voice is hoarse with the pent-up emotions swirling inside me.
My grip tightens around her wrist as I lean my forehead against hers. “Don’t go, please. I’ll be the one to go, I promise.”
The moment her pulse thumps under my thumb, I release a long breath. It’s as if I’m coming from the dark, suffocating underground.
Her pulse is weak and barely there, but it exists.
I bandage one more towel around her wrist, keeping the pressure as I dial 999.
From here on, there are only two options. Either she lives or I don’t.
