Wrath (Sinful Secrets 4)

“I don’t want to go out with you. I don’t want to be in with you. I’m fucking from here, brother. I have friends. If I want to go somewhere, I’ll call one of them.”

I can see him absorb my words. His face turns unhappy, something changing in the eyes and in the set of his mouth.

“Okay then.” He disappears into the hall, shutting my door behind him.

Ezra

I stand in the hall between our bedrooms, looking down at the stuff by my feet. There’s two bags of Cheetos, two packs of Bubble Yum, another Icee, and some of that sugary powder stuff you eat with the vanilla-flavored dipsticks. Brennan told me he likes that.

I got it when I went out to get the donuts, but I felt weird giving it to him all at once.

I lean my back against the wall. Put my hand over my chest.

I can feel my heartbeat.

I don't like it when it beats fast. Makes me have to breathe in through my nose and blow it out my mouth.

I try it, but I can’t breathe.

I sit on the top step, put my head down on my knees, and when that doesn't work, I lie back on the carpet in front of his door and try to look down at the skylight. I can see the shadows from the clouds over the sun. I watch them until my eyes shut. There's still light, I tell myself. I can see it through my eyelids. Never that dark, Ezra… It’s okay.

My heart slows down, and now I’m tired. Didn’t sleep last night because I knew he’d hear me screaming. Then he wouldn’t get to sleep. And he needs sleep.

I hear DG move on his bed.

I reach my arm out toward his door and brush it with my fingertips.

I’m sorry.

I think of the lake water. What it looked like from under the surface. All that roiling… And I kicked up.

My throat aches as I think of Miller climbing up onto the trestle with me. I can still see his eyes, wide with terror.

I fucked that up. I thought he would leave. When he didn’t and the train got way too close, I panicked and shoved him.

I had worked myself up that day. All day, driving down from Richmond, trying to decide how. And then I got to Fairplay and my dad texted. He said, ‘We can’t wait to see you’ and I just…drove to his house.

I got inside, and they told me about Josh. He and his friends, and where they might be, underneath the trestle bridge or out by some snake island. They told me how high the bridge was, how some trains still used it. And that got me thinking.

When I got there onto the bridge and realized Josh and his friends weren’t there, I realized it was the right time. Finally.

I felt brave as I walked on it. Peaceful, too. I was glad that it was going to be over. I said one last prayer—I remember it being "please find me”—whatever that meant in my head at the time—and then I dove. With my shoes on.

I hit the surface hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs, and I sunk deep. I kicked once or twice, my body moving out of instinct. Then for a second I was in the depths, suspended, looking at the light show of the sunlight on the surface. That's the last thing I remember clearly. I think my body inhaled without my consent, and I got a chest full of lake water.

I don't remember kicking to the surface. I remember hands on me. And how ironic that he calls me angel face, because I thought he was an angel.

Only for a second. Then my body started flipping out from all the water in my lungs. I thought I was dying.

As soon as my head cleared, I realized I had failed, and the first thing I thought was that I wanted to try again. My head still felt dizzy, so I figured another go, and I wouldn't come up. It was so weird. Reckless in a way that felt...invigorating.

"I think you're a twisted fucker. I think you do it for the power feeling."

I smile as I drift closer to sleep—here on the floor.

Fucked up fucker.

Just don't want Mills to get fucked up.

I reach behind me, grabbing the Icee cup. Press the thing to my cheek. The outside of the cup is damp.

Wake up, I tell myself.

I'm so comfortable, though. Knowing he's right there behind the closed door.

I think of his arm over me, when he would climb into my bed. Feeling his hands on my shoulders.

And the few times I was so head-fucked, I latched onto him. I remember how his arms would come around me, his hand cupping my head.

Eight

Josh

I stay in my room for a long time. Stewing, I guess. Feeling everything I wanted, everything I planned on, slipping away. Who would recruit an epileptic to play college soccer? How do I even go to college if I can’t drive? How would I visit home, or go out to a restaurant or the grocery store? What if I can’t leave home at all?