Page 50 of Unhinged Love

I barely hear him. He needs to go. I can’t breathe.Let’s see if she can float! I thought shit always floats on the surface!

“Hey!” He crosses the room in a few long strides while I scramble away from him, curling up against the headboard with a pillow clutched in front of me. I’m going to faint. My head is spinning.

And he sees it. I know he sees it because he looks horrified. “Breathe. You’re safe. Nobody is hurting you.”

Easy for him to say.

“Take a breath.” His voice is gentler when he sits on the edge of the bed, leaving space between us. “Just breathe, okay? That’s all you have to worry about right now. Take a breath. Nobody is hurting you right now. You’ll be okay.”

Tears trail down my cheek, and I brush them away, frustrated. Why do I have to cry? Like he needs to think I’m any weaker than I already am. Just one more thing to use against me.

Slowly, the tightness in my throat loosens, and the pressure in my chest eases until I can pull in a decent breath without struggling. “There you go. Just take it easy. You’re all right.”

“Oh, am I?” Now that I’m breathing again, all I have to worry about is keeping myself from clawing his eyes out. The only thing stopping me is knowing our parents will be back before long. That’s all that’s stopping me from inflicting on him the kind of pain he has so eagerly inflicted on me.

His shoulders rise and fall in a heavy sigh that doesn’t do anything to make me feel nicer toward him. “We’ll work this out,” he insists in a softer voice, his blue eyes troubled when I force myself to meet them. “But we can’t do it if you lock yourself away like this. It’s not going to get you anywhere.”

“Since when do you care? I mean it.” At least he looks like my attitude hurts a little. He deserves so much worse, but I guess this is a start. I have a little power.

“Fine, whatever. I’m not going to talk in circles.” When he gets off the bed, I’m not sure how I feel. I should be relieved—all I want is for him to leave me alone, right? Yet here I am, startled at how suddenly he’s turned away.

All he was doing was going to the hall to bring in the tray of food. “Guess I’ll have somebody replace that door before they get back,” he murmurs, setting the tray on the bed. “Enough with the hunger strike.”

The sight of a thick turkey sandwich is too much to resist. My pride isn’t stronger than my empty stomach. Grabbing half the sandwich with both hands, I raise it to my mouth and take a huge bite. It’s all I can do to keep from moaning happily before taking another greedy bite.

I’m almost finished with that first half before I slow down to catch my breath. I can’t stand the idea of looking at him, so I stare down at the food instead.

“I’m really sorry for what happened. I know it’s hard for you to believe,” he mutters, “and I know it’s easy for me to say now, but it is the truth. I don’t know what it is about her and why she has to be so…”

“Vile?” I whisper before picking up the second half of the sandwich.

“That’s one word for her.”

“She might have sent them out, but she didn’t take them, did she?” I glance up at him from under my lashes. He winces but says nothing. “If those pictures never existed, she couldn’t send them to everybody.”

It’s a surprise when he slowly nods. A muscle ticks in his jaw and his nostrils flare like he’s pissed, but he doesn’t argue with me. “I know,” he murmurs. “And I am sorry. I really am. I wasn’t really going to send them out.”

Now that is worth a laugh. “Right. You were just joking when you threatened me over and over.”

“I wasn’t joking. I…” He sighs and stares down at the tray, lifting a shoulder. “I don’t know what I was doing anymore. I wouldn’t have hurt you like that.”

Something about this sudden contrite attitude sets my teeth on edge. “No, you’ve already hurt me in so many other ways. I guess you have your limits, though.”

“I’m trying,” he grunts, finally lifting his cowardly head to look me in the eye. He’s a big, tough guy when there’s a door between us, but now he can barely stand to look at me. Typical bully.

“Well, thank you so much,” I snap. There is something way too gratifying about seeing him flinch. It makes me feel powerful, which is something I’m not used to feeling. I grab onto it with both hands and hold it tight. “But you’re out of your mind if you think coming in here and apologizing with a sandwich and a couple of cookies is going to make anything better. It’s not. I will never forgive you for this.”

“But I told you?—”

“And I heard you,” I remind him, before he has the chance to stumble through talking his way out of it. “That doesn’t change anything. You did what you did, and I am not going to let it go just because your conscience is bothering you now. You deserve it. I hope it eats away at you,” I grunt. It is much too nice, seeing the effect I’m having on him. I could see myself getting addicted to payback if payback is this sweet.

And I’ve barely scratched the surface.

Every silent second that passes only strengthens my resolve. This is how it has to be. It’s not my fault nobody ever taught him about facing the repercussions of his actions. I’m just the person who’s had to suffer for it. For the way he walks through life, acting like he’s untouchable. Never thinking about the effect he’ll have on other people. Selfish and arrogant.

Right now, he isn’t only Carter. He’s every stupid, petty, childish bully I’ve ever faced. He is everyone who has ever tried to break me.

He’s the person who has come the closest.

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