Page 231 of Satan's Spawn
Because this means Rebecca’s aware of my past, and if I want to keep her I’ll have no choice but to explain my actions.
All of them.
“Where the fuck did you get these?” I rip them from her grasp, crinkle them in my fist and throw them on the ground.
“That doesn’t matter.” She sniffles again, gathering composure.
“The fuck it doesn’t.” I fist the breasts of her coat. “It was Good Guy Archer, wasn’t it? He always had it out for me.”
This shit was never supposed to be made public, Beaumont promised my grandfather it wouldn’t.
“Tell me where the fuck you got ’em, Rebecca. I’m dealing with too much crap today to tip-toe around yourfeelings.”
She looks as though I’ve punched her in the face, which manages to make me feel like a bigger piece of shit than I already am. So I release her and bring my hand to cup her soaking wet cheek. It’s warm, which tells me she spent the entire time walking here crying.
“It’s all true.”
A whimper this time.
“Is…is this why you hated me so much? Why you could barely look at me at times?” A pregnant pause passes between us before she adds, “Because I look so much like her?”
Motherfucker. This girl wastes no time drilling me with the hardest questions.
“It’s complicated, Little Ghost. My entire fucked up life is complicated.”
She glances down and steps to the side, removing my hand from her face. “I’m so disgusted with myself.”
My blood is pumping again, so hard I feel as though it’ll pop a vein.
“For fucking what? You can’t help how you look. I was too fucked up to see that then. I see it now, Rebecca, you gotta believe that.”
She swallows audibly. “You also seeherand you know it. Every time your eyes meet mine, it’s a monster’s eyes staring back at you.”
I reach for her but she rears back, leaving me no choice but to grip her by the arm and pull her roughly into my chest. “Not any more,” I adjust the ridiculous pink winter hat on her head, revealing more of her doe-like features. “In fact, the only person in this fucked up world I see is you.”
“It makes me so sick what she did to you…what you went through…had to do to escape her. It hurts as badly as it would if it was me.”
I’ll be damned—no pun intended—but this girl is more of a bleeding heart than my dad is.
“I mean…I turned out alright.” I try my hand at a joke, but all she does is huff.
“Right.”
Okay, fine. I’ve earned a little skepticism.
But still, this is exactly why I never wanted to have this conversation. Because of how I knew she’d react.
How she would pity the both of us.
Despite her inner shame, Rebecca wraps her arms around me, like she’s clinging for life.
We stay this way for a few seconds, me growing uncomfortable, and Rebecca breathing through her cries. I run my fingers through her hair in an attempt to elude a sense of calm, even though there’s a fire growing rapidly inside me.
It works for her, until it doesn’t.
Because Rebecca’s shoulders lock up tight, as if realizing something.
That’s when suddenly, the meme of that OxiClean guy saying “But, wait! There’s more!” pops into my head.
