Page 45 of The Tenth Circle
The soundof whispers in the distance stirs me awake, my eyes heavy as shit as they blink open. I groan, trying to lift my head but it feels like weights are dragging it down.
The whispers grow louder, sharper, and heated. Going from conversation to full blown argument in seconds.
A guy and a girl.
The voices are distorted, but clear enough to know the girl wants something and the guy is refusing.
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter, squeezing my eyes closed as the light from the sun creeps through the window.
Complete silence follows the demand, not that it helps the throbbing on the side of my head. I press my fingers to the pain, skin as swollen as it is aching.
With passing seconds comes enough energy to lift myself up and throw my legs over the side of the bed.
Resting an elbow on my knee, I squeeze the bridge of my nose, then reach blindly for my cell phone with my other hand. I slap around the surface of my nightstand a couple times before ending up with two checks in it instead. Ten million, tossed down the drain with my fucking humanity.
Guilt rises in my stomach like boiling water, and I allow it to burn my insides until they’re numb.
“Bro, you good? You need somethin’?” Levi questions, the loyal soldier in him always ready to go to war.
Guy may be younger than me, but he’s way more mature and resourceful at times. Especially now when I’m stuck paying offtwo guys I almost sent to meet their maker, along with keeping their hospital stay under wraps from prying eyes.
Luckily for me, the two assholes are assholes who got into Riverside through a lottery, not status.
Tossing the checks on the bed, I finally snatch my cell phone off the nightstand.
I check the time. Eight-thirty.
Which means I spent over eighteen hours in a self-induced coma.
“Sthaint…I-I’mth-o,th-osorry.” A soft, feminine lisp pulls my attention, the familiarity of it sending a bolt of electricity soaring through my veins and sobering me up.
My head swivels to the door where Theory stands before me, intertwining her fingers, her heightened lisp and stutter being the same ticks she had since she was a little kid.
Her hair is a mess, as if she’s been pulling at it all night, and both chestnut eyes are swollen like she’s been crying a lot.
My baby girl.
Who I’d watch cities burn for in a motherfucking instant.
With so much pent up sadness draining the color from her face.
This time the guilt burns hot enough to sear me open, forcing me off the bed and to my feet in an instant.
My arms widen for her, and Theory wastes no time throwing herself into them. Her arms wrap around me like a vise, the innocence of it reminding me that, even though we’re both in high school, some of hers is still intact despite her recent behavior.
She whispers an apology again, knowing damn well the vital part she played in what happened yesterday.
Nobody knows the demon I fight more than my sister.
And nobody has the ability to quiet him the way she does.
Or do the complete opposite.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I grit out, pressing my palms against her cheeks and then my lips to her head. The coconut scent of her hairspray does nothing to ease the rage, because it’s still the same one she picked out at seven when I taught myself how to braid her hair.
Theory rears her head back, swiping a hand across her nose. “I-I wasthn’t. I sthwear. I wasthn’t thinking.”
“Did they…” My words trail off as I let her go. “Did they force you?”
