Page 100 of Soulless Saint

It might not even be true.

He could be lying.

He’s a criminal. Criminals lie.

But then why did everything in my bones whisper that it was the truth. It just made sense. I didn’t fit with my Dad.

I fit with people like Ava Jade.

Like Hardin and Kaleb.

Oh god.

My sides squeezed, and I fell to my knees in front of the toilet, whatever meager amount of dinner I’d managed to consume coming up in waves until I had nothing left to throw up.

I swiped the back of my hand over my lips, getting shakily to my feet to splash icy cold water on my too-hot face. Soaking myself until my shirt was sodden and I could breathe without feeling lightheaded.

My phone rang, and I jumped, jerking it from my pocket bleary eyed. I saw the A and didn’t even wait to read the rest. Ava Jade had been calling to check in a lot this week after the concert. She’d know what to do. She’d get me the hell out of this place.

“Aves,” I croaked down the line, not knowing when I’d started crying.

“Becca?” a decidedly male voice asked, worry tainting his Irish accent. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”

I blinked back more tears, a sob growing in my chest as I slumped back against the counter. “No.”

“Okay, just breathe. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I’m not in Santa Clarita. I’m… I’m in fucking Burbank.”

“Where in Burbank?”

“I don’t know, near a golf course and a… a gas station.”

I sniffed, shaking my head as if he could see it. I didn’t want him to come get me. I didn’t want to see anyone right now. Wasn’t sure I could face another human being without them somehow being able to see all my sins as if they were written in plain ink over my flesh.

“I’m going to need you to be more specific, love.”

“No. I-I’m calling an Uber. Thanks though.”

“Wait, Becca, just—”

I hung up the phone, unable to talk anymore. I just needed to get out of here. Right now. I needed to go bury myself in my bed and lock the door and… and…

I didn’t know what else.

The argument outside the bathroom raged on like a war, which made it simple to slip out of the house unnoticed. I walked aimlessly, not knowing where to go. Who to call. I couldn’t see my phone screen through my watery eyes to order an Uber. Couldn’t seem to bring myself to care.

I walked until my feet started to hurt and the sun had fully set. Until I was so thirsty that I finally remembered leaving my purse hung by Damien St. Vincent’s front door. I must’ve walked right by it when I left his house.

A horn honked behind me, and I moved further to the side of the road, getting out of the way, but they honked again.

Aodhán’s Impala idled noisily as he pulled up alongside me and leaned over to shove open the passenger door. “Get in.”

“I said I was good. I don’t need your help. Just go.”

“Becca, get in.”

“Just go!”

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