Page 118 of Bitter Lies

The last she says with a furtive glance in my direction, and for the first time, I feel rage, not for the act itself, nor even for us, shells of ourselves because of what he stole.

No, I’m fucking livid because for whatever fucked-up reason, we’re afraid to admit it out loud. I guess I should be relieved it’s not just me, but is she hesitant because of the irrational guilt and shame?

Or did he record her, too?

“I’ve never said anything about being exclusive,” Griffin says harshly. “And for the record, I don’t give two shits who you fuck.”

The words sound so familiar that I stand abruptly and stalk from the room, locking myself inside even though it won’t do any good because I can’t escape the fucking past, and it would seem I’m fucking doomed to repeat it.

Curling on the bed, I chuff out a laugh because every action or interaction with Griffin is a complete mindfuck, and I’m tired of the goddamn whiplash.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Be careful what you wish for.

Sometime later, I rouse, my fingers itching, and pull my paints from the closet, sitting before a new wall and brushing my pain onto the clean canvas.

I don’t know how much time passes, but when I’m done, I stand back and look at me, standing against the side of the house with Griffin before me. He’s got a cruel look on his face, his eyes hard and cold, but I left my face blank, empty with no features because that’s who I was—a husk standing before a bitter boy who looked through me as he cut me down.

With a sigh, I close everything up and tiptoe from my room. I can’t avoid him forever, but I need a little more time. To my relief, he’s not here, and the house is quiet.

I head for the backyard, intent on sitting in the sun and soaking up the warmth, for I feel so cold, but stop in the living room and turn my gaze to the wall.

The picture hanging there mocks me, her innocence and parted lips a lie. Without thought, just venom that stings in my veins, I pull the painting down and let it crash to the floor.

Stalking into the kitchen, I pull out drawers until I find a knife before sitting before the picture and methodically tearing it apart. I start with her face, tearing into the soft expression and ruining the facade, because she never existed to begin with. Next, I rip methodical strips of her sensual pose until there’s nothing but clumps of canvas around me.

When I’m done, I’m panting, and sweat drips down my spine, but I feel a sense of catharsis that warms me where nothing else could.

“What the fuck have you done now?” Griffin explodes behind me.

Calmly, I drop the knife to the floor and gather the canvas pieces, curling them into a ball.

“I fixed it.”

“Fixed it? Halsey,” he growls, grabbing my arms. “What’s going on?”

Pulling away, I ignore the concern I see blazing in his eyes because it might break me. “Nothing is going on. It was mine, and I didn’t like it.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not me anymore.”

“You can’t erase yourself,” he says quietly.

Searching his gaze, I say softly, “That’s where you’re wrong because that girl is already gone.”

“What girl was that?”

“The girl who was foolishly stupid. She believed the world was safe. She believed if she was good enough, that maybe she could be loved, but you see, Griffin, that girl was wrong.”

“That’s…Halsey,” he says helplessly, pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly.

Stiffly I stand in his embrace before I slowly relax, allowing myself the comfort even though I know I don’t deserve it because some sins can never be washed clean.

Griffin pulls me into his lap on the couch and wraps his arms around me once more, and collapsing against him, I finally feel warm.

“I hate him for having you first,” he rumbles, causing me to stiffen in his arms. “And every fucking dick after him.”

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