Page 61 of Healing Souls

Not paying attention to my surroundings, I head through the main room, planning on going up to my room, but I am stopped by Gabriel stepping in my path. “Harley? What’s wrong?”

I stop in my tracks and glance up into his soulful eyes. They seem so kind—so concerned for me. Everything is hitting too hard. I almost killed him. My breath hitches, and when I open my mouth, no words come out.

He furrows his brows, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Something is bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?”

I look away and try to rein in all these emotions I’m feeling. My mom deserves justice, and I want to give it to her. But Gabriel… he does to.

He didn’t deserve the life he was handed. And I almost killed him. Glancing up into those same concerned eyes, they overwhelm me, so I turn on my heel and run through the main room to go upstairs.

When I reach my room, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely get the door unlocked. Once I’m inside, I slam the door shut and slump against it.

What have I done?

Everything is so fucked up. This was supposed to be simple. I was supposed to hate these people. They hurt my mom, and there is no excuse for that. There is nothing that can be said that fixes what they have done.

These people haven’t actually done wrong.

And yet they have wormed their way in my head and are fucking with me.

They aren’t that bad. Maybe there is more to this than I know.

Pulling at my hair, I let out a cry as tears stream down my face. I almost killed the man I thought was responsible for all of my mom’s pain, everything she had to suffer through.

My—my dad.What the fuck am I doing?

Needing something to relieve the intense emotions coursing through me, I head into the bathroom and turn the shower as hot as it will go. After stripping down and tying my hair up, I get in and let the water hit my skin. It hurts, but not enough. Not enough to take away the pain in my heart and the fear in my brain.

I feel so lost.I really fucking miss you, Mom. I need you so badly. What do I do? How do I get revenge for you? For everything you were put through…

I just want the thoughts to stop. The way my mind spins about Gabriel and his story and how everyone is so kind and loving here… but yet I know there has to be more to it. I just don’t know if that more is bad or not.

Then I think about how my words might be affecting Gabriel, and my heart hurts. Or how I spent time with Colton and the guys. How they all make me feel things I’ve never felt before.

But I can’t let them consume me. Not when I need to get revenge.

People put on a show. That’s what this is, right? It’s a show. Just like with Tammy.

Slipping out of the shower that isn’t working to take away my pain, I dry off and get dressed again as tears keep streaming down my cheeks. It feels like there is a heavy weight on my chest, and I don’t know how to make it go away. It’s hard to breathe, and everything feels wrong. So, so wrong.

Me being angry at these people feels wrong. But me letting them in feels wrong, too. It feels like there are no right answers anymore. I’m just lost.

I’m lost and angry, and I need my brain to just stop for a second. Staring at myself in the mirror, I become more pissed off. This girl who has been broken, who escaped and found her own way, is standing here being pathetic.

This is not me becoming the devil. This isn’t what I wanted.

I can’t be weak. I can’t let Tammy win. I have to put my walls back up and dig for the answers I want. Staring at the scar on my face, my anger builds, turning into fury as my fists clench on the counter.

Stop being so fucking weak, Harley.

Let the scar remind you of that day. Of the years that followed it. There is a reason you are here. There is a reason you want to stay here.

Fucking fight back and become the devil. Be the one to fear.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I raise a fist and punch my reflection as hard as I can. The glass cracks but doesn’t shatter. My hand throbs as I look down at my slightly bloody knuckles. I let the light pain calm me as I shut my eyes and take a few deep breaths.

I’m not weak anymore. I have power now.

I open my eyes and raise my fist again, slamming it repeatedly into the mirror. The ache in my hand grows as blood drips down my knuckles.

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