All the Little Truths (English Prep 3)

I walked past them briskly. “Not a fucking word.”

Neither of them answered me, which only irritated me more.

Chapter Seventeen

Madeline

Eight o’clock on a Saturday night and I was so pathetically lame that my nightly entertainment was staring out my window at the side of Eric’s house, hoping I’d get a glimpse of him.

No matter how malicious and intimidating Eric tried to appear, I knew, deep down, he was all things good. He was the boy who used to let me win when we’d play basketball in his driveway. He was the boy who caught me fireflies one night and put them in a jar so I could see them up close and personal. He was the boy who’d wait each night to wave goodnight to me from his bedroom window before we both turned out the light and went to sleep. And he was the boy who continued waiting at his window even when I’d iced him out.

I’d always wondered how he never caught on to his father sleeping with my mom. Maybe he hadn’t glanced over at my house as much as I’d glanced over to his, because if he would have just looked, he would have seen what was happening.

But that was the problem with most people. They looked, but they never truly saw. If that were the case, maybe people would have noticed that I was a broken girl hidden behind nice makeup and a blistering attitude.

That was what I wanted, though. I wanted to fool people. I didn’t want them to see me. So their faults were to my benefit, I supposed.

Except for Eric. He was seeing right through me. He thought I needed a hero, but I didn’t. Not anymore. The damage was already done. Eric couldn’t save me even if I wanted him to.

I still couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing tonight. I’d already creeped on social media, pitifully searching to see if there was a famous English Prep cabin party that used to be my go-to, but as far as I could tell, there wasn’t a party tonight.

Then, where was he? Probably with some college girl. Maybe he went back to the frat party since last week was cut short because of me.

Speaking of… My fingers rapidly typed another text to Atticus who was likely ignoring me.

I knew how risky and dangerous it was to be taking pills, even if they were as harmless as a sleeping aid. The problem was, I just didn’t give a shit.

Sometimes, in the morning, even in my groggy-no-sleep-state, I’d give myself a pep talk in the mirror. I’d roam my eyes over my faint freckles on the high arches of my cheeks and peer into my light-blue eyes. I’d tell myself that everything was okay and that I was safe now. That when I locked my door at night, no one could come in. That I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

But of course, now that it was dark outside and sleep was rapidly approaching, a chill ran down my spine. I shivered, clutching my phone even tighter in my hands, before I flopped onto the bed.

I sighed anxiously. “You are stronger than this.” I gulped some water nearby and lay back down on my bed, my phone still laying on my chest. I crossed my ankles and gazed at the ceiling, trying to convince myself to relax.

What used to relax me? I wasn’t sure. The old Madeline was such a blur in my head that I didn’t even remember what I used to be like. Though, the harsh looks and everyone hating me at English Prep reminded me that I’d never really been a nice person.

That I’d always been one step ahead of everyone else, putting myself up on a pedestal so no one could touch me.

Until they did.

I lifted my head with the thought and made sure my chair was still pushed up against my doorknob. I shifted my gaze over to my bathroom door and saw that it was locked too. I desperately needed to get another chair in here for that door. I sighed again and went back to staring at the ceiling above me, my sheer canopy laying gracefully over the sides of my bed.

I ran my finger down the soft fabric until my phone vibrated on my chest.

Atticus: No can do. Your boyfriend came to my room last night and ransacked it until he found the Ambien. He flushed them down the toilet before I found him. He also fucking punched me, which was followed by a threat, so this is where our platonic relationship ends, sweetheart. Gonna have to find some elsewhere.

My mouth was unhinged from my face. My chest burned, and my eyes watered. Not from sadness but from pure fucking loathing.

How dare he?!

I flung up from my bed and rushed over to my window to see if he’d somehow come home in the last ten minutes. My hand ached to slap him across the face. I told him I didn’t need him to be my hero. As soon as he left me in the stairwell yesterday, I knew our little fucked-up version of a friendship was over.

Last chance, Maddie. His words echoed in my head all night, but I knew I’d done the right thing.

Eric couldn’t save me now. The damage was done.

Plus, I didn’t deserve him, even in the slightest. Why couldn’t he see that?

And why the hell would he go to Atticus and threaten him? Was this some sick form of retaliation? Was it part of his grand plan to ruin me?