Page 8 of Wreckage of Us
“I completely underestimated you, though,” Dylan puts his head back and laughs. It’s a loud, booming kind of laugh, the kind that signals nothing good is about to happen. “I never took you for someone who’d be sleeping around, even though you did fuck me on the very first night we met.”
My eyes instantly fill with tears at his crude words.
“I mean, not like I wasn’t used to sleeping with whores,” he continues. “But I just had a different picture in my head ofyou.”
“Dylan,” I gasp in shock. He is accusing me of what? Sleeping around? I don’t understand.
“Ironically,” he starts laughing harder yet, “I haven’t fucked anyone else since I started fucking you. Only to find out that you’ve been the one fucking around.”
He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing ever. I have no idea what to say. I just want to cry. Here I am, pining over him all this time, now pregnant with his baby, and he is calling me a whore to my face.
I was worried about how to tell him about the baby. Now it is obvious that it is not something I should’ve worried about. He won’t be around for anything, so why even bother. I can’t believe I considered putting his name on my baby’s birth certificate.
“So, imagine my even bigger surprise,” he is still talking, each word cutting a little deeper. “When I hear that now you’re pregnant.”
Oh god, hearing the words from him, the disgusted way he enunciates the words, it is all making me sick to my stomach.
“You know what this is, Becca?” he points a finger at me, all laughter gone.
I shake my head, not even sure what he’s asking me anymore.
“No,” I whisper. “What?”
“Karma getting me back. And I’m sure it’ll get you too at some point,” he adds with fake amusement. “Don’t think you’re safe from it.”
Right.
That’s what it is.
Karma.
3
Dylan
The babyon the floor next to Becca starts screaming his head off. The sounds coming out of him are almost unbearable. She is just staring at me with a horrified look that also projects despair.
I feel guilty for a fleeting second over what I just said to her. However, then I remind myself that she played me. Fucking me while fucking Dr. Douche, that’s something I never saw coming from her. And now they’re having a… a… baby.
“Fuck!” I growl at the ceiling. “Make it stop!”
I have no idea what I’m even talking about. I am too focused on my internal struggle and pain as I process all this.
“Shhh, you’re okay, Ry,” I hear her whispering to the crying baby. That brings my attention back to what’s happening. Where did this baby even come from? Did she have him all this time already?
I watch in fascination when Becca gets off the floor while holding the crying baby who just won’t quit.
“What’s his deal?” I jerk my chin toward the baby. I’m assuming it’s a boy.
“You.” Becca stops in front of me, watching me with cold eyes. “You are his deal.”
“What are you talking about?” I snort and roll my eyes. “Also, what the fuck right you have to give me an attitude?” I add even though something in my gut tells me that maybe I should know better.
“Get out,” she growls at me over the cries of the baby.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you thought you’d get out of fucking with me like this,” I yell back into her face.
“I don’t owe you any explanation,” she tells me, her voice hitching a bit toward the end, like she’s holding back tears.
