Page 29 of My Bully's Crush: Vol1

There was talk about calling the cops, and mom had said they’d even hit her up, which was a reach because I hadn’t been back to my hometown in years, not that anyone knew of anyway.I bypassed all of that, though, and did a deep dive into what mom had said about the posts that had sent Elena into the depression the guy at the hospital had mentioned, and it was bad.

I felt sick to my stomach reading most of it and wondered how much of that filth was my fault.I wanted to scream and maybe throw myself off a bridge while I was at it, but she was keeping me here.If I leave now, who will protect her from this shit storm?A storm that I had apparently caused.

Now that my mind was somewhat clearer as I went through the older posts and read about how hard she’d had it in those first days, weeks, and months after the split, I felt immense guilt.She was the one who’d helped me clean up my own messed-up image.

When I look back at my life, the only time I was truly happy was the days spent with her.I think I might have lost my humanity without her by my side.And I’d repaid her by putting her in the midst of what for her could’ve only been hell.But who was behind this?

As much as I dislike and distrust Janie, I found it hard to believe that she had any part in this.Noel and Nicole, yes, this is what they’re known for, and their mother is a grandmaster at it.But Janie was supposed to be a sweet Christian girl with morals and shit.She never came across as the type to do this kind of shit.

It was obvious that the unflattering pictures were photoshopped, well, at least to me, someone who knew her body better than anyone else.But the comments and the constant attacks and ridicule would send anyone over the edge.

And I know better than anyone how sensitive Elena is.She’s one of those people who think that all it takes is being kind and that kindness would come back to you.It’s one of her many virtues I wish I had.That, and her penchant for seeing only the good in people, even the ones who hurt her.

For someone like her, someone with that kind of heart, this has got to be hell.They didn’t only attack her body, but they’d gone hard on getting their fans to tear her down with lies and insinuations.They’d dredged up the wedding again, and there was even more speculation about what went down there, which I know must be a very sore spot for Elena.

For the first time, I went even further back into the old posts to see everything that I’d missed, and it was just as bad or worse than what was going on now.I felt ashamed of myself that I didn’t know any of this had been going on.Is this why Janie and her dad had suggested that I stay off of social media?

I’d only given in because, back then, the backlash from the public had been brutal.If I had any doubts about how much she was loved, I learned really fast.But someone’s PR firm had been working overtime because she took a beating.I’ll make whoever was behind this pay a very steep price.In fact, I wanted to do some smearing of my own, but I knew she wouldn’t want that.She’d be even more disappointed in me if I stooped to their level.

It was obvious that there was nothing coming from her end, not a peep.Class all the way.And I felt like even more of a fuck up seeing it.How the fuck did I convince myself that Janie was better than Elena?They’re not even in the same league.What’s that saying?You can’t compete where you don’t compare.Even a comatose, deaf, and blind man could see that.I fucked up!

I saw my name on a lot of posts and scratched my head as I wondered when I had made them.Some of which were used to hurt her, and others were just filled with taunts and jabs.I don’t recall any of it, but there it was on the screen, sent from my accounts for all the world to see.Did people really believe this shit?Even some of my own fans, names that I recognized because they’d been following me since the beginning of my career, had piled on her because of things I supposedly said.

Shouldn’t these people know me better?I guess that’s a good way to remind myself that fans aren’t necessarily my friends.A friend, a true friend, would know me and know that there’s no way I could turn off my love for her.But here they were, divided, being used like tools to tear down the better part of my life.

Just on a hunch, I created a few dummy accounts, which was pretty easy, and went scouring not only their pages but mine.It took me hours to wade through the shit that had been attributed to me, things I never would’ve said no matter how high I was.The shit about my marriage being the love story of the century, I could overlook; who the fuck cares?

But the shit they’d said and done to her using my name was a whole different story.The longer I sat there, the more upset I became because the more I read, the more disgusted I became.Not just with them but with myself.How had I let it come to this?

It breaks my heart to think that she’d gone through that shit alone.Sure, I knew her girls would’ve been with her.If there’s one thing I know, it’s that that Sydney chick always has my girl’s back.But even there, it appeared that I’d been used as well.

There was some kind of fight between Sydney and me that I knew nothing about.Someone else had once again used my accounts to attack her, and if I knew anything about her, she was not one to back down from a fight.Though I was sure she must hate me right now, I was doubly certain that with her in my girl’s corner, she was going to be alright.

But who had used my accounts in this way?And what was their purpose?If only I could remember everything that had gone down, but I don’t, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever get those memories back.I have to do something, though; things can’t go on like this.But first, I have to make sure she gets out of that hospital bed in one piece.Then I’m going to war.

Chapter 19

*Ryder*

For the next three nights, I went to see her in that hospital bed.I’d just sit there holding her hand and watching her sleep the way I used to when we were together, and only the sight of her face in slumber could bring me peace.

I paid a hefty sum for information on how she was doing since I could only see her while she was asleep.The reports were good; she was doing better with the tests they gave her and was even speaking up in therapy, which she wasn’t doing when she first got here.I read between the lines enough to gather that though this last round of attacks had hit her hard, it was me and our breakup that was the real problem.

Knowing that was twofold.On the one hand, it helped alleviate the fear I have been carrying around ever since I started coming back to my senses.The fear that she would never forgive me, never give me another chance.On the other hand, I hated this for her, hated knowing that she was still carrying that pain in her heart, and I wasn’t there to mend it.

Whatever they were doing might be working during the daytime, but seeing tear stains drying on her cheeks every night was destroying the hell out of me.I wanted to kiss them away the way I used to when we were lovers but dared not take the chance.It was that last night that it really hit home that I was that close to her in the flesh when I felt for sure that it would never happen ever again in this lifetime.

The first few nights, I’d been too worried about her to think about anything else.I don’t know what I was thinking; maybe the same way I’d found comfort and solace just by her presence that I could do the same for her.

But that last night was hard.Maybe because I knew that I would be leaving her soon and that I wouldn’t be able to see her again once she returned home, not for a long time anyway.I damn near had a panic attack followed by the most insane thoughts and scenarios that played out in my head as she slept.

I gave serious thought to bundling her up in the woolen blanket her grandmother had knitted for her years ago that sat on the foot of her bed and taking her out of there.We could just disappear somewhere together and leave this all behind.

But she’d never go for that, and I couldn’t ask her to.Besides, I’d be taking her choice away if I kidnapped her ass and stole her away somewhere, though I’ve got to admit I’m not too pressed about it.Still gotta work on my issues, but dammit, she’s mine.It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of her in that way.A long time since I believed I had the right.

That night unlike the others, I studied her face as if memorizing every little thing about it.Even though I was there, I was already mourning the time when I wouldn’t be.And then she sighed my fucking name in her sleep.

I held onto her hand with one of mine and bit into the other to keep the roar of anguish locked inside.It’s been so long since I’d heard my name said in just that way, the way only she could say it.Rye, she was the only one who could get away with calling me that since it always reminded me of damn bread.She did use to like to tease me about it, and we’ve had many a pillow fight over the issue.