Page 124 of Bitter Lies

Stiffening, I swing toward him and raise my arms wide. “Why? Because if I hadn’t, I got what I deserved?”

“What? No! Halsey…fuck,” he says, turning to the wall and punching a hole by the door.

For a shocked moment, we stand in silence before he says, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I did,” I say softly, “but I’m a liar. Remember?”

Flinching, he turns to me with burning eyes. “What was I supposed to do? Everything has been so fucking screwed up! And you told me to my face that you lied!”

“Believe me!” I scream, throwing a shirt at his face. “You believed whoever lied about me all those years ago. You knew me! You should have trusted me!”

Casting his eyes to the floor, he groans, scrubbing his face. “How was I supposed to know your brother would lie?”

“Because he loves you, you idiot!”

“What? I…”

Slumping onto the bed, I say tiredly, “Max loves you. And you believed him. You tortured me for years. You hated me! Fuck!”

“Halsey, I didn’t know. Your fucking brother was my best friend!”

“No! I was your best friend! Me!” I scream, slamming my fist against my chest.

“I know! And I was fucking devastated! Do you know what it felt like to think the only…I loved you!”

“Yes, I know how it feels, Griff, because I loved you, too.” I can feel the surge of emotion pushing at my skull and turning, I grab my bag.

“Where are you going?” he asks, grabbing the bag out of my hand.

“I can’t stay here.”

“You have nowhere else to go,” he says firmly.

“I don’t care.”

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll leave, you stay,” he bellows, grabbing his keys and leaving before I have the chance to respond.

Bewildered, I stare at the door before slumping onto the bed and letting it go, the rage and pain, hate and ugliness.

I can’t hold on to it any longer. I can’t breathe for it. I can’t…

I made mistakes, and I will live with the pain of them forever, but I can’t hate myself. I have to forgive…myself and Griffin and maybe even Max, too.

Because if I don’t, I can never be free again.

∞∞∞

Griffin sticks to his word and never comes back, and over the weekend, I head back to my dorm, perfectly numb. I confessed my greatest sin, and I knew, I knew that it would sting along my skin like a thousand tiny bees because, in this, I cannot hide.

During my counseling session the following Monday, I sit down warily across from Dr. Marks, who eyes me kindly before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. Nothing.”

Cocking his head to the side, he waits while I think, and before I know it, I’m saying sadly, “I’m tired of blaming myself.”

“And why do you blame yourself?”

“Because I asked for it,” I mutter.

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