The way he’d made me feel safe.
“I don’t—”
“Fuck!” I cried. “Fuck! Goddammit.” I roared as I smashed my fist into the dashboard again and again. It cracked under the force of it, bones in my fingers breaking.
Kelly slammed on the brakes, and I threw open the door and stepped out onto the road. I screamed up at the sky, and everything I felt, all the anguish and rage and fear of what had been done to me and all that lay ahead poured out of me. I had known the truth weeks ago, the weight of it heavy on my shoulders. But only now did I let it crack me open and fill me up.
There was a tree just off the road. An old elm. The trunk was thick and solid.
Little wolf, little wolf, can’t you see? my mother whispered from somewhere through the fire scorching the earth. She sounded like she was dying.
Quiet as a mouse.
I punched the tree again and again and again.
The branches shook as the trunk split, bark breaking off in large clumps. Leaves fluttered down around me. Sap leaked from the tree, mixing in with my own blood, and I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
But there was a voice through the fire, through the storm in my head. It was saying my name, saying “Robbie” and “please” and “don’t do this, please don’t do this,” and wasn’t that just the thing? Because hadn’t Chris or Tanner said the same thing at one point? Hadn’t they begged me to stop?
They had.
And I hadn’t stopped.
A hand fell on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.
I spun on my heels, snarling, ready to lash out.
Kelly didn’t move.
He wasn’t afraid, at least not of me.
His hand wasn’t on his gun, ready to pull it in case he needed it.
“Why didn’t I know?” I shouted at him. “Why did he do this to me? What the fuck does he want?”
“I don’t know,” Kelly said carefully, like he was trying to calm a cornered animal. And he was, foolish though it should have been. I wanted to shove him away. “We don’t even know if he had anything to—”
“Don’t,” I growled. “He did this. He did this. You know it as well as I do. And I laid my head in his lap and thought he hung the moon. I thought he was my friend. I thought he was my family. And you all just let me go.”
“Fuck you,” Kelly snarled, angrier than I’d ever seen him. “You want to make this about you? Fine. Let’s go. Let’s go home and stand above Alpha Wells and you can tell her how muc
h this hurts you, how angry you are for something you had no control over. I’m sure it’ll make her feel better before she dies. Come on. Come on. What the hell are you waiting for? Isn’t this what you want?”
Oh Jesus. I couldn’t breathe. I deflated, the ruins of my hands already stitching themselves back together. I bent over, wrapping my arms around my stomach as I gagged. A thin line of spit hung from my lips. I retched, but nothing came out. Kelly stayed where he was, and I was grateful for it. I didn’t want to be touched. He was right, of course. About everything. And here I was, throwing it back in his face.
I spat onto the ground, my throat working as I struggled to catch my breath. “Shit,” I muttered.
A car came down the road. It stopped next to the truck. Jessie and Chris. I heard Chris roll down the window. “Everything all right? What are you—holy shit, Robbie! What the hell happened to your hands?”
“Leave it,” Kelly snapped. “Go. Get to the house. We’ll be there in a minute.”
“You good?” Jessie asked, and I knew what she wasn’t saying.
Are you safe from him?
“Yes,” Kelly said. “Go.”
She didn’t argue. They pulled away, the sounds of the car fading as they headed down the dirt road toward the house.