Page 45 of Roan

I lie flat on my back, the sounds of rain pelting the windows and my sobs the only noise. My heart cracks into a million pieces.

I hate him.

My skin hurts. My body trembles. I’m bleeding, tiny cuts that drip blood from my elbows into a crimson pool against the stark white rug beneath me. I think, how am I going to get blood out of a white rug? But then again, it doesn’t matter.

Not now, not after…. Oh God, just the memory of his admission breaks through me in a rush. Had Tiller lied? No. He couldn’t have. Roan didn’t deny it when I asked him. He shrugged and said, “He didn’t waste any time ratting me out, did he?”

And I guess I took that as he did. I think back to the expression on his face and the way I had been more focused on his betrayal than the way he stared at me. Why? Why let me believe a lie?

Then I turned it around and did the worst possible thing I could to him. Twisted words, screwed his brother, obsessed over the definition he wouldn’t give us, and let it destroy everything. In these seconds, when I can’t quite control where my thoughts are going, or stop them once they’re there, I let Roan and his impact rule. The first time he kissed another girl in front of me, the first time he kissed me. Me sixteen, him locking his bedroom door and me in his bed, unknowingly willing to do anything he wanted of me. And finally, when I chose to inflict and hurt him because he hurt me. When revenge seemed like the only way to stand on my own.

I bury my head in my hands, sobbing for the mistakes we made.

I think I’m dead.

THERE’S A RUSTLING of keys, the opening of a door, footsteps and voices I don’t recognize. I have no idea how long I’ve been lying here. I want to die. Am I dead? If not, tell me who’s in the house. Maybe a murderer and they can rip my heart out of my chest and do me a favor.

Regardless of my pain, I am scared of the dark, and murderers. I snap my eyes open, searching for the sounds in the dark. The kitchen light flips on and I’m met with two people standing in the entryway. The same one I cried in.

Agustin gasps, his eyes wide at my appearance, or the fact that I’m lying in a bed of broken glass. “Oh my God, babe. Are you okay?” He rushes to my side, careful of the glass around him. “What happened?”

“I… uh… tripped.” My tears dry and I stare at him, his dark features, eyes I don’t really know, and a man I think might not be the one and hating that he’s not.

Agustin helps me up, so gentle, so unlike the man who held me captive against his body, begging me to see his love. I notice his sister stalling by the door, as if she doesn’t know what she just walked into. If only she had been here an hour ago and witnessed the end.

“I’m tired,” I tell him, unsteady on my feet, my words as drained and despondent as my heart.

Agustin murmurs, his face pale, eyes worried and watchful of my every movement. He sweeps his thick black hair from his eyes. “Do you need help?”

I smile at his sister, who I’ve only met twice, and I shake my head. She studies me. I look away.

Agustin steps forward, eyes wide, his hands on my elbows supporting me. Tension cracks in the air as his eyes bore into mine. “No, I’m fine, thank you.” Does he see it? Does he know that Roan was here? Can he see through the lie?

My body burns sorely as I drag myself to our bed, climbing in fully dressed.

I cry silently, watching the rain hit the window, the quick bursts of lightning outside the only light. How had he kept that from me for so long?

The door opens, the bed dipping as Agustin sits on the edge. “Did you really trip?”

I don’t say anything. There are several ticks of silence, and if I had to guess, he’s unhappy with my lack of response.

“Because the window was left open so I’m assuming….” He doesn’t look at me, his hands resting on his knees, his voice hard and accusing. “He was here, wasn’t he?”

I cry harder, unable to keep up with the lies. I nod, unable to actually say them out loud.

He nods—it’s hard and controlled, his body tensing. “If you want me to walk away, now’s your chance.” He turns then, facing me, his hand lifting to touch my thigh. “I won’t be mad.”

Again, I can’t find the will to form words. I taste the truth on my lips, the one I can’t bear to admit. I can’t see his face in the darkness, not completely, and it’s killing me when he asks, his voice void of emotion, “Do I stand a chance against someone like him?”

Deep down, I think I want to tell him to walk out that door and forget this life he has planned with me. But the betrayal runs so deep, I can’t get the words out. With Agustin, it’s safe, predictable, and I will never have to feel inferior to him. So I swallow my heartache and shake my head. I touch his cheek and try to convince him otherwise, even if my head and heart don’t have the same future planned. “Yes, you do.”

Do you believe me?

Do you think he does?

He searches my face for the truth and I’m not entirely sure which girl is looking back at him. The one he loves, or the one who hates that she was never good enough. Whatever it is, he breathes in deep, letting it out slowly and nods. “Okay.” His lips press to my forehead. The photograph of us at graduation flashes in my head, and the brokenness in Roan’s eyes when he saw that I had moved on.

Defeated, my heart drops at the thought of hurting Agustin the way I’ve been hurt. I couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to him.

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