“What, wearing a damn dress?” he said, cutting me off. “Doesn’t fucking matter, man. I’m not judging, so relax.”
I swallowed. “Sorry. I’m just…overwhelmed, I guess.”
“You look like you’ve been through a lot, so feeling what you are right now is valid as fuck,” he said, and my throat tightened at his words.
“That obvious, huh?” I snarked.
“You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
I chuckled. “Touché.”
“I’m Jayce,” he said, then offered me a hand.
I shook it, and grinned before saying, “Dorran.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Sixteen. You?”
“Nineteen,” he said. “So, Dorran,” he then added, “what the fuck did you do to get arrested? Because last I checked, having a bad sense of fashion isn’t reason enough to be behind bars.”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “You’re a smooth motherfucker, aren’t ya?”
“Helps me get a dick every once in a while.”
“You into guys?”
“Sure am,” he said with a grin.
“No wonder you were ogling me,” I teased, then raised a brow.
“Dude, trust me, if I wanted inside you, you’d already be on all fours, screaming my name.”
His words made me inhale sharply, and a chill crawled up my spine as memories of the last two years started resurfacing again.
Hands holding me down.
Hands pulling at my clothes.
Hands pressing my face against the wall.
The whispered insults. The cruel fucking. The punches that would send me reeling.
Mom’s lifeless eyes staring into nothing. Her blood on my hands, on my tongue. Her body pinned under mine. Her–
“Dorran?” Jayce’s voice sounded concerned. “Hey, buddy; what’s wrong?” He placed a hand on my shoulder and shook me slightly, making me jolt.
“Whoa.” His eyes widened as he stared at me. “You okay, man?”
I pushed my hair back and took a few slow breaths in an attempt to knock aside the vivid images in my head. “Yes,” I answered a bit hoarsely. “Yes, I’m…I’m fine, thanks.”
“Was it something I said?” he asked.
I swallowed again and gave him a nod. “Yeah, actually.” I then told him everything that’d happened to me ever since my dad’s passing – including that night’s events – and with every incident I relayed to him, Jayce’s demeanor crumpled further and further.
“Sooo,” he started once I’d finished, and lifted a shoulder. “You’re here because you well-deservedly killed a cold-hearted bitch who traumatized you fortwo fuckingyears?” I expected him to be shocked or disgusted over the fact that I’d killed my mother, but instead, he was angry on my account, as if what I’d done made complete sense.
It did tome, of course, but I was glad I wasn’t the only one in thinking so.
