Page 36 of The Wreckage Of Us
“Janice, no, you didn’t wake me. I was just waiting up for Brit.” A pause. A soft laugh. “Yeah, she’s been out late again… you know how she is.”
My stomach twisted. I crept past the kitchen, pressing my back to the wall. I didn’t want to hear more. I didn’t want to hear how happy Jasper was, how perfect Janice was, how easily she had slipped into the place I was supposed to fill in this family.
In my room, I locked the door and collapsed onto the cold marble floor of the bathroom. The taste of bile rose in my throat, and soon I was hunched over the toilet, emptying the night’s excess.
Afterward, I curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around myself, shivering despite the heat.
This was the routine now. Party, drink, hook up, come home, vomit, cry. Repeat.
Days blurred into each other like smeared lipstick.
“Brit, you need to stop,” Jasper said one morning over breakfast, voice tight with worry as he buttered his toast.
I smiled, all my teeth. “I’m fine, Jaz. Really.”
He frowned, dark brows pulling together. “You’re not. You’re barely eating, you come home wasted, you—”
“I said I’m fine,” I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look… Janice and I were thinking of going away for the weekend. Why don’t you come with us? Fresh air, no paparazzi.”
I laughed, bitter and hollow. “Yeah, because nothing sounds more fun than third-wheeling with my brother and his perfect girlfriend while Mom calls every hour to remind me I’m a disappointment.”
Jasper’s face softened, but before he could say anything, my phone buzzed on the counter.
Mom.
I silenced it, throat tightening.
“She’s just worried,” Jasper murmured.
“No, Jaz. She’s worried about the family name, not me.”
Later that evening, I was at another party. Another club. Another haze of lights and music.
And that’s when I saw him.
Ace.
He stood near the bar, glass in hand, dark hair falling across his forehead. His broad shoulders were tense, his expression unreadable as he talked with Sierra — his girlfriend.
Sierra saw me first. Our eyes met across the room, and to my surprise, she gave me a small nod, almost a smile.
We weren’t friends. But over the past year, something had shifted between us. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was understanding. But she no longer hissed cruel words under her breath or laughed behind my back.
I took a shaky breath and looked at Ace.
He didn’t look at me.
Not once.
Even when Sierra leaned in to whisper something and his eyes flicked over her shoulder, past the crowd — past me — it was as if I didn’t exist.
I forced myself to laugh at Marcus’s joke, to tilt my head, to sip my drink, but all I could feel was the invisible weight pressing down on my chest.
I slipped outside to the balcony, needing air. The city glittered below, a million lights for a million people, and yet I had never felt so alone.
A soft voice broke through the haze.
