“I’m going to use pretty much those words. He’s a bright man. I’m sure he’ll grasp the concept.”
The floor feels like it’s tilting. My footing unsure. If we’re not a collective, then what are we? What am I?
Trent forces us away from each other. “I think we should press pause. Tempers are high and no one’s thinking clearly.”
Caylon’s laugh does the work of telling me what he’s thinking.We never thought clearly.
I’m a thug, Trent’s a brick wall, and Caylon’s a bright kid with a chip on his shoulder.
And Robbie? Robbie was the least of us all jammed together.
Lilac stands a metre away, the drink still held in her fingers. The doubt still clear on her face.
Doubt.
About me.
That pierces more thoroughly than any barb Caylon might toss my way.
And I know it’s only there because of the gun. The weapon that not one of us believes would ever go to the police. Not now. It’s just a token, a MacGuffin that we’re all happy to chase because it gives us the opportunity to find out things about each other.
Things about ourselves.
Maybe I should show her the face Caylon wants me to show her. The man who struggles to control himself. The one I’ve kept hidden, so she won’t leave.
If she does… that might be for the best, too. We could stop pretending that we can have love and marriage and kids and picket fences and freshly mowed lawns. The only thing we have in common is that our mothers were whores and addicts until sickening themselves so much, they couldn’t even be that.
Funny, but I can’t recall the name of the fairy tale with that beginning.
Her eyes are clear. They’re beautiful. All of her is as beautiful as always. The same way she’s been since I first set eyes on her. As glorious as the sun and just as crippling to stare at.
“I forgive you.”
Anger rises in me, a powerful surge cresting on a wave made of shame and doubt and guilt. I step towards her, reaching for the damn glass. She snatches it away.
“I forgive you for shooting Robbie and taking the gun and not disposing of it when Stefan ordered you to.”
My chest feels like someone’s digging in it with a spoon, hollowing it out. “Like I need your pity.”
She ignores my outburst. “I forgive you for taking advantage—”
I scoff at the choice of words. “What are you? Stuck in a historical novel?”
“—when I was at my lowest. I forgive you for threatening a boy and making me lose contact with my sister. I forgive all of that.”
If Caylon weren’t out of reach, I would squeeze his skull between my hands until it burst. Who the fuck is he to spill my secrets?
“But I am drinking this to be done with your test. That’s all. This is not consent for you to touch me while I’m asleep. Do you understand me?”
She speaks in a commanding voice, but this isn’t her test. It never was. This is my loyalty test. Mine.
And I don’t want conditional love. I can get that anywhere. The man asleep at the other end of the hall gives me that; care metred out in exchange for not tarnishing his image.
I want more.
For the first time, I think I deserve more.
“I asked, do you understand me?”
