Page 79 of Bitter Lies

Holy shit. I’ve done it again, although this time felt achingly sweet compared to the crude fucking of before, and I have no idea how to process it or if I even should. More than likely, this was an anomaly, and if I analyze it too closely, I will only end up burned.

Curiously shy in the light of day, I pull my clothes on quietly, wincing when he wakes. His eyes turn to liquid fire as he watches me but he banks it just as quickly, and ignoring the surge of disappointment, I murmur, “I should go before my mom sends out a search party. She probably thinks I’m standing on a bridge contemplating suicide by now.”

At the mention of my mom, Griffin retreats inside himself, his entire face shutting down as his mouth pulls into a straight line.

“Right,” he says gruffly, pulling on his own clothes.

The air is so chilly around us, I shiver, and turning on my knees, I say quietly, “I’m sorry. And I did try to make it better with my mom.”

“But?”

“But she found my diary.”

He raises his brow with a frown. “Your diary?”

“Yes, I wrote about you in my diary.”

“Huh? What about?”

“Something cruel you said on the worst night of my life,” I say sadly.

Chuffing, he mutters, “Let me guess…the night Jason dumped you. Whatever, go back to your little blue pills and fucking lies.”

“That’s so fucking unfair!”

“Why, because it’s true?” he sneers. “I’m supposed to take the fall because of some dick? I didn’t tell you to date him. You did that all on your own! And frankly, I’m not sure what’s the fucking truth when you’re telling me you love me and fucking losing your damn mind over him. You’re fucking crazy!”

“You bastard! I never lied! Not about him and not about you! I hate him, and fuck, I hate you!”

“Really? Well, news flash, I’m not exactly swimming in like for you!”

“Whatever,” I mutter, crawling toward the door. “I’m not a liar. I don’t lie, except maybe to my damn self.”

“Ha! You had a fucking breakdown and sprayed your room with paint. You were covered in it when I found you.”

Pausing, I turn back to him, swallowing past the painful words. “I was in pain, Griffin.”

“Yeah, I know,” he snorts, “because the fucker dumped you. Or was it because you fucked them all to get back at me? Shit, at this point, I don’t even know what to believe.”

“Don’t you get it?” I say, the words tripping from my lips before I can contain them. “He raped me!”

Griffin steps back with a stunned expression, and I drop to the floor, wrapping my arms around my middle.

“He raped me,” I scream, the words tripping over my tongue in a torrent, “and no amount of pills or white fucking walls is going to erase the dirty inside of me.”

“What the fuck,” he says quietly.

Refusing to meet his gaze, I stare at the floor and mumble, “You’ll never see just how fucking sorry I am. Because I’m ugly and broken, and no amount of paint or anything else will ever make you see.”

Dropping to his knees in front of me, Griffin touches my hair gently. “See what?”

“I’m dirty, I’m so dirty,” I pant, rocking back and forth as I whimper uncontrollably.

“You’re not dirty,” Griffin says, but I don’t hear him. I don’t hear anything.

“Hey.” He picks me up in his arms and cradles me to his chest.

Collapsing against him, I whisper, “I’ll never be clean again.”

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