Page 101 of Atone

“You—” Her sobs turn to anger. “You killed her?—”

“It’s not like that, Mila.” I step forward, but she steps back.

“Don’t touch me.”

“You don’t understand.” I tuck my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her again.

“You’re right. I don’t understand anything—least of all you. I thought we were being honest. Or, at least as honest as you’re capable of being. I knew what you did to Oxy, but I was willing to look past it because you were trying toprotect me in your own fucked-up way. I ignored all the warning signs because I didn’t want to see them. I wanted to believe you cared. But I was wrong about everything, wasn’t I? You really are a monster.”

Monster.

He crawls up in my chest now. The beast never quite at bay. Always restless.

I’ve been called many things.

Psychotic. Insane.

But never from her. Never from Mila.

Monster.

It vibrates between my temples. Sticks in my ears. It’s tar in my throat, and I can’t swallow. I can’t think. Because she’s not wrong.

“You’re just like them.” She takes another step back. “No, you’re worse than them. Remi was my best friend, Alex. Do you have any idea how hard it was growing up there? How little my parents cared about anything more than using me as an act? Remi was my family. The only person who understood. How could you not tell me it was you?” She clutches her chest like she can’t breathe. “You killed my best friend.”

“I didn’t.”

“Stop lying!” She screams so loud that anywhere else, people might worry what’s going on.

Not here, where all that stretches for a mile in any direction is the Lancaster property. Dead, dark night. Blood and secrets.

“You have it wrong.” I dare to step forward when she’s shaking so violently, I’m worried her body is going to shatter. “I didn’t kill Remi.”

“Don’t say her name.”

“Okay.” I nod, treading carefully. “I was there thatnight, Mila. You’re right about that. But I wasn’t the one who hurt her. I was the one who pulled you out of the fire.”

To anyone else, I might expect relief. After all, I didn’t kill her best friend. But knowing Mila, I’m not surprised that my confession has more tears spilling down her cheeks.

She’s all heart. That soft, sweet organ that beats inside her chest.

And I’m the person who grabbed her when she tried to run into the tent to save her best friend’s life. I stopped her.

“No.” Disbelief colors her cheeks.

“Yes.”

“You pulled me out.” The realization makes her voice crack. “You stopped me. Remi is still dead because of you.”

“And you’re alive.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.” It’s nearly a whisper, and it’s not enough.

It’s never enough.

That’s one of the many reasons I stopped using my voice. It has no power. Not like action. I wanted to show Mila what she means to me, beyond words. Now she’ll never see it. She’ll never believe it. Because all she’ll hear are the lies echoing. Piling up and masking what was real.

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