Dead Girls Never Talk

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The light was turned on, and there she was, standing below the spotlight like my own personal angel, ready to damn me into hell.

“You don’t get to do that.”

I locked onto the trembling of her lip, hating that she was trying to make it stop. As if she couldn’t show her weaknesses to me.

“Do what?” I asked, backing myself to the wall that she was just plastered against.

“Fuck away the guilt. You aren’t telling me something, Cade. You left me out there that night for some fucked-up reason that you can’t even admit out loud, and I just… I don’t understand.” Her face began to crumble, and it was as if I could see the walls shooting up around her. “So, no. You don’t get to touch me and pretend like it didn’t happen. Because it did, and you think you’re messed up over it?” She turned around, taking her hurt with her. “I can’t even manage to say no to you. I let you touch me even when I didn’t know if you were the one to attack me. It’s like I have some death wish when it comes to you.”

I sucked in a breath, wanting to reach inside my chest to make the beating muscle stop screaming in agony. God, I hurt her so bad.

“I hate you,” she said with a cracked voice, putting her back to me. “I hate you for ruining years of self-preservation. I’ve been abandoned allmy life, Cade. You knew that. And you did the same thing to me that night. And you won’t even tell me why.”

“Journey.” I pushed past the hurt she was causing me.

Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart had climbed into my ears as I waited for her to turn around. My beats were exploding throughout the room. Can she hear it? Can she feel my desperation? Can she see how torn I am?

She slowly turned around, and I latched onto the wet streaks covering her cheeks. My voice suddenly disappeared as I stood there and stared at her. Fuck. “What was it?” she asked, hand on the doorknob. “Another girl?”

“What?” I was on the edge of a cliff, my voice growing more frantic with guilt. “No.” My feet begged to carry me over to her, to shake her stupid for even asking such a thing, but then I was quickly reminded of the fact that I had lured her out to the courtyard, didn’t show, and then she was brutally attacked. Why would she trust me or think anything other than the worst possible thing?

“Did you forget I was out there? Waiting for you? I had the note in my hand. The one that you wrote.”

I didn’t even want to answer her. The words were stuck like glue inside the back of my throat, cutting off oxygen. “I didn’t forget.” How could I ever forget you?

There was the slightest little crease in between her eyebrows that I wanted to smooth out with my finger. “Then…I–I… I don’t understand.” My eyes shut as the battle continued to go off inside my head. Do I tell her? Will it make things worse? Will she hate me even more knowing that I knew she was being targeted and that I didn’t do anything to stop it? “Were you in on it?”

If there were a mirror in front of me, I could only imagine how angry I looked. The instant anger was a bitter taste to swallow. “You really think I would let someone hurt you?”

Her anger reflected mine at that moment. The apples of her cheeks were red, the tears now dried and long forgotten. “How would I know? Maybe they offered something to you that you couldn't refuse.”

My head shook back and forth with anger pulling me from every single side. I stalked over to her quickly, but she opened the door and stepped out of it and into the darkened hallway that reeked of booze, sweat, and sex. “The only thing I couldn't refuse would be you. Do I need to prove to you how much I want you? Still? Even knowing that you hate me?”

I caught the shine of hurt in her eye as the light behind me snagged the gray color. Her bottom lip trembled, her bare arms out in the open with scars so deep I felt them myself. Her mouth stayed shut as she disappeared into the dark, and instead of following after her, I stomped back inside the room, slammed the door, and rammed my fist into it so many times it went numb.