Page 96 of Poison Aches

Cursed.

So simply put, it all comes to this.

“You can hate me for hurting your friend but she’s more aware of the situation than anyone else in this damn room, so getover yourselves,” I grit out, slicing the tense silence with a sharp knife.

And I’m not wrong either.

No one’s more aware of my heart condition than the curious, nosy girl who just couldn’t mind her damn business.

Ivy Marie Irving.

The Angel of Death.

She grew up to be nothing more than a wallflower.

A people pleaser.

Pathetic, and she always seems so sad, like a starved, abandoned dog that doesn’t receive enough pats on the head.

It’s not that she actually wants to be like that. In fact, to everyone else, she’s a cheerleader.

But I know, she’s nothing more than a liar.

Just now, she gave a speech to encourage everyone in the room, supporting other people, making them feel good about their lives and their accomplishments, but I heard the perfectly hidden sadness in that cheerful tone.

I saw the envy in her eyes.

I know that deep down, she’s lonelier than anyone would ever know—and in that regard, she serves as a reminder to my own mess.

She lives in her head the most, probably because she hates her reality.

But I will bring her back to it, even if I have to break that cocoon of hers.

They say the past is gone and we should focus on the present, but while I can’t change the past, I will move Heaven and earth to remind Angel of the past.

To be fair, I haven’t had a chance to make her pay all these years. I’d since decided to do one thing when it comes to Ivy—ignore her like she doesn’t exist.

But she does.

She seems to be everywhere I go.

She’s around my friends.

She’s always at the estates.

And her all-knowing gaze is always on me.

Before my friends found out I was born sick, she had known and kept my secret for years.

I hated that she knew my greatest weakness.

I hated that I couldn’t really control what she could do or say.

And when she pressed her ear to listen to my heartbeat, taking 3 minutes from me, I hated her…

“Well, since Emmett has made his side clear then I’ll just go right ahead and order that cake Ivy wants,” Noah says gleefully. “What type of cake do you give a dear friend to celebrate them losing their virginity?”

Hot, blinding anger unlike anything I’ve ever felt suddenly surges up in my chest.

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