Page 14 of Bitter Lies

He tore me up and spit me out, and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces, even though they’re jagged and will never fit back the same way again.

“What? Oh man, are you pissed because I didn’t call? Sorry, baby, I just thought it was a good time to move on,” he says with a wicked smirk.

Blankly, I stare at that smirk, his words tumbling around in my head as my veins liquify, and rage flies through me so quickly, I feel weightless with it.

Sorry I didn’t call, baby.

Pulling my mouth into a macabre grin, I clench my fist at my side and breathe deeply against the panic filling my lungs like helium in a balloon, but when the veil of anger doesn’t fade, I give in and pull my fist back before letting loose. Except before I can sock him in the junk, I’m caught from behind as warm, strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me away.

Immediately, my tight throat closes as I flail against my captor, bucking and kicking as I claw at his arms. No, not again, no.

“Goddamn it, Halsey, stop,” Griffin growls, and his voice penetrates the haze.

Slumping, I drop to dead weight as my body pulses with the adrenaline I have no outlet for, and vaguely I remember my therapist in the hospital telling me that my anger would surface at some point, and it would likely be explosive. I guess she was right because I’m literally trembling with the rage riding through me painfully.

Griffin walks around the side of the house with a grunt, the din of the crowd growing dim, before dropping me to my feet abruptly.

Swinging around, I glare at him heatedly, my chest heaving with the effort to breathe as he looks me over quickly and demands, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Did you take your meds today?”

With a gasp, I flinch away, fucking enraged that he would even bring it up. “Seriously? You fucking jerk. Yes, I’ve been taking my meds. This is called feeling. You should try it sometime.”

His eyes flicker before he steps back with a grimace and runs his hands down his face. “Then why are you acting fucking crazy?”

“This isn’t crazy! People get angry! They fight!” I spit at him, annoyed by his inference.

Halsey’s upset. She must be fucking off her meds. Fuck!

Why can’t he just see me?

“No, Halsey, people don’t greet their ex with a fist. Especially not you. Have you been drinking?”

I think I spy genuine concern, but it must have been my imagination because his expression is a mix of frustration and disgust. Bowing my head, I fight back the infernal fucking pain that’s always sitting on my chest when he looks at me this way.

Where did my Griffin go? Did he ever exist? Or did I make him up in my damn head? Maybe I’m crazier than I thought. Fuck.

Rubbing my sternum, I say petulantly, “Fuck off. Maybe you just don’t know me.”

“Maybe I never fucking did,” he scoffs.

“Ha! What a fucking joke. Clearly, you didn’t. And I sure as shit didn’t know you,” I huff, raising my trembling chin when his eyes narrow on me speculatively.

He glances down my body, making a pit stop on my heaving chest before his eyes darken and he shakes his head, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “You’re clearly out of your fucking mind right now. I think you need to go home before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.”

“Whatever. I’ll leave when I’m ready. I can’t believe you’re defending him. What a fucking joke.”

“Defending him? You’re acting like a bitter bitch! Get over it. He dumped you!”

What? He did not just fucking say that!

“I don’t care that he dumped me!” I gasp.

“No? You mean you didn’t fucking try to kill yourself over that asshole?” he bellows, his brows slamming over his eyes.

“Oh, shit.”

This from someone around the house, into the silence, because the music cut off just before Griffin’s accusation.

Wide-eyed, I stare at him. He glances behind him impatiently, his mouth forming a thin line as I gasp out a laugh and cover my mouth, but the hysteria just keeps coming until tears are streaming down my face. “Thanks, dick. I can’t fucking believe I…”

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