Page 48 of Tormented
“So do it,” he says with a little too much protectiveness in his voice for my liking.
“I will,” I cede. “I’m goin’ to Cali, she’s stayin’ here, so don’t despair,” I say sarcastically, “your fuck buddy will be safe from the big bad wolf.”
“She ain’t my fuck buddy,” he grates out. “You can get that idea out of your head.”
“So it wouldn’t bother you if I stood up right now, marched my ass upstairs, and fucked her until she couldn’t walk straight.”
He’s out of the chair with more speed than I gave him credit for. Thought so. I leap to my feet also, hands raised and ready to go.
“Come on then, tell me why I should leave her alone,” I taunt, chin held high.
He lashes out with his right, grazing my jaw.
I stick a left under his rib cage.
“Tell me,” I holler. “Everyone wants me to stay away from her: King, you, even fuckin’ her. Why?”
“Because you’d just ruin—”
“Bullshit! Don’t fuckin’ say I’d ruin her, because you know it ain’t true.”
You know it is . . . .
He drops his fists, straightening up although he’s still very much on guard. “She’s had a rough life.”
“Haven’t we fuckin’ all?” I cry, stepping back as I throw my hands up in frustration.
“Hers . . .” He shakes his head and sighs. “She needs to find a person who’s goin’ to be the best of everything for her. I don’t know how much exactly she told you, but that girl’s known nothing but heartache, abuse, and betrayal. She needs the opposite.”
“What are you sayin’? That you think I’d just use her and break her heart?”
“Isn’t that what you do?” he snaps.
“Fuck you.”
Truth hurts . . . .
And fuck you too.
“Just leave her alone. Stop thinking about her, stop harrasin’ her. Just leave Abbey be.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” he cries. “What the fuck do I have to say to make you get it?”
“Get what?” I shout. “Have you looked at her lately? She’s fuckin’ miserable.”
“She’s always been miserable!”
“So what?” I ask, shoving him hard with a hand to his shoulder. “That makes it okay?”
He shoves back, tipping me off-balance. I stick a foot out behind to steady myself.
“It doesn’t make it okay, no,” he yells. “But it also doesn’t make it right for you to take advantage of that.”
“Why do you all think the worst?” I pick the shitty plastic chair beside me up with one hand and hurl it across the lawn. “Fuck you all. Maybe I wanted to be the fuckin’ one to make her smile.” I send the other chair to join its buddy. “Maybe I wanted to know that who I am, all the fucked-up and unbalanced parts of me, didn’t bother somebody for a change. Ever think that? Ever cross your mind that for once, I might have seen the motherfuckin’ possibility that someone would love me for who I am, goddamn insanity and all?” I slam a hand hard into my head to cement my point.
He stands somberly, watching me fall apart and share more than I ever have about the one thing I can’t seem to control: love.