“Landen,” I croak out, wishing I had some water. “Please go.” I close my eyes because I’m drained and exhausted and don’t have the strength to handle the hurt on his face.
It all makes sense now. Understanding dawns on me, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together so loudly it’s a wonder I don’t have another episode. That’swhy meout of all the girls he could’ve chosen. Same reason he bought old Clyde dinner at Our Place. Landen’s a bleeding heart looking for charity cases to rescue.
“Layla, what did I—”
“I’ll call the nurse and have you removed. Go.” My energy is fading fast and I’m running out of strength to hold back my tears of weakness, of defeat. I tried to hide from what I was and I lost. It found me. I don’t know what I was thinking. I am what I am. Can’t hide it forever.
Landen doesn’t move. He just stares at me open-mouthed and wide-eyed. I clamp my fingers down on the red call button and a beep echoes overhead.
“Do you need something?” a woman’s voice echoes through the speaker, and I almost break down right then. Yes, I need a different life. One where my parents don’t get gunned down in front of me, one where I don’t have seizures that cause me to spaz out and piss myself in front of the whole freaking school. And lastly—listen close, universe—one where the boy I’m falling in love with doesn’t date me out of pity.
“I’m going,” he mumbles, ambling away from me like I’ve kicked him. “Call me when you feel better, okay?”
I force myself to nod, even though I know I won’t. “Can I have some water please?” I ask into the air the once he’s gone.
I hang on until the nurse brings the water. “Thank you,” I say, wanting to tell her to send my Aunt Kate home too. But I don’t. And I don’t even take a drink of the water she brought because I’m at war fighting off my tears as soon she’s out the door.
Shewoke up in the hospital and the first thing she did was kick me out. If she didn’t look so weak and exhausted, I would’ve put up more of a fight. But it was clear, for whatever reason, the only thing she wanted when she finally woke up was for me to get the hell away from her.
I storm out of the hospital in a blind rage. I need to find Brent Becker. Or pray the Colonel’s home and go there and piss him off good. I need to hit. To be hit. To kick and fight and hurt and be hurt. I need the kind of pain that makes sense. The kind the cuts and bruises and breaks bones. Not this fucking internal shit that twists and aches and makes me insane. And helpless. If this night has a theme, it’s ‘Landen O’Brien is a worthless, helpless piece of shit that ruins everything.’ Maybe that’s the theme of my life.
Somehow, through my rage-filled haze, I make it to the party at the Alexis chick’s house hoping Becker’s here. I barely paid attention when they gave me directions at the dance, but it’s not hard to find with the dozens of cars parked out front. Leaving my truck parked sideways on the lawn, I make my way inside. Some guys are arguing in the doorway. A few others are playing quarters at a poker table, and several couples are practically fucking on the couches. But I couldn’t give a shit about any of them.
A thrill runs through me at the thought of Becker hitting me as hard as he did those doors because I’m a twisted motherfucker like that. Maybe he’ll really mess me up and I can get put in the same room as Layla. She can’t kick me out if I’m in traction.
“Becker?” I roar when I can’t find the lardass son of a bitch. Jena steps out of the kitchen instead. Wrong Becker. I tell her so.
She kind of looks like she’s been crying but I couldn’t care less. “Where’s Brent?” I ask, and she shakes her head.
“He didn’t do it on purpose, Landen. It’s not his fault.” She’s pleading but I don’t care.
“You need to go,” Alexis says as she comes closer. “Let me or DW or someone drive you home.” She presses against me, placing a hand on my chest.
“Get the fuck away from me, you stupid bitch,” I say and instantly I regret it. And not just because she recoils like I’ve slapped her. I don’t talk to women that way—any women. And I’d kick the shit out of any guy who did.
But before I have time to apologize, Brent Becker comes out of a bathroom with his hands up. But not in the way I want.
“Chill, O’Brien. My bad, okay? I didn’t know that would happen. I don’t even know that girl.”
“That girl,” I begin through gritted teeth, charging him like a bull with rabies, “is in the fucking hospital right now because you had to act like a fucking—“
“I punched a door, man. Usually people don’t fall out just because someone punches a door.”
“And you wanted to punch me. You should have. Here’s your chance.”
I watch as he contemplates this.Do it already.
He doesn’t. He lowers his hands.Fuck.
Guess I’ll have to try harder. “I’m sorry, Alexis. What I said was rude. The stupid part, I mean. The bitch part was well-deserved.” Surely he’ll hit me now. But apparently he doesn’t care as much about Alexis as his sister I guess. So I turn my focus back to him. “And I’m sorry I didn’t want to take you’re slutty sister to Homecoming.”
That does it. He hits me so hard I see spots. I swing once, grazing him as he dodges me, but on the second swing I connect. He shoves me backwards until I fall and hear the satisfying sound of glass breaking. I roll us away from the shards, hitting and kicking for all I’m worth. Which, truthfully, isn’t a whole hell of a lot.
All around us squeals and screams and shouts ring out as everyone realizes there’s an all out brawl taking place in the middle of the room. Becker lands a right to my jaw and it clicks. I clutch the collar of his polo and pull his head to mine. Hard. “Agh,” he moans in pain from the unexpected headbutt. I see stars but I’m thinking clearly for the first time.
Damn. This isn’t going to help Layla. This is only going to help me. But I’m too far-gone to stop now. Oh well. Hindsight and all that shit I guess.
I slug Becker twice more and try to get up but our legs are tangled so crashing back down I go.