This is all my fault. All I do is hurt people. If Zeta wasn’t my best friend, and the girl I’m crazy about, Lopez’s interest in her would’ve faded by now. But he continues to sleaze over her to mess with my head. What happened this evening would never have happened if Zeta was blending into the shadows like she’d planned all along.
The image of her lying on that floor, her face pale, eyes closed, body unmoving, plays repeatedly in my head, fueling my self-hatred, anger, and frustration.
I lash out, needing to feel physical pain, welcoming the raw, throbbing ache as I pound my fists into the concrete wall, ripping my knuckles, my skin bleeding. I pummel the wall, imagining it’s Lopez’s face, until I’m breathless and spent, my limbs exhausted, my body sweaty and limp as I fall to the floor, consumed in a blanket of remorse.
And, as I scream out in my sleep, assaulted by images I’ve managed to avoid these last few weeks, I know this is my punishment for daring to hope.
8
Zeta
My head still hurts like a bitch, and I have an obvious raised lump at the back of my skull, but I’m lucky it’s only a mild concussion and not anything worse. Guess I should be grateful I’ve a hard head. Carina, the nurse, summoned a doctor to the facility to ensure I didn’t need hospitalization. He prescribed strong pain meds and two days of bed rest, so today is the first day I’m returning to a normal routine.
I’m well used to my own company, and I spent most of the time sleeping or reading in bed, but I have little concept of time in here, and the two days felt more like two weeks. I’ve really missed Ryder, and I’m so looking forward to seeing him as I make my way over to our usual table in the cafeteria.
I’m the first one here, so I flop into a chair, keeping my head down as I eat my breakfast. “You’re alive!” Luc quips, pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down. “Are you feeling okay?” he adds more solemnly.
“I’ve a killer headache, but I’m fine otherwise.” I look up at the counter and over my shoulder. “Where’s Ryder?”
Luc’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and he squirms in his seat. “He, ah, he’s not sitting with us today.”
A bad feeling sweeps over me and my stomach dips to my toes. “Why not?” Is he mad I tried to yank Valeria off him? I’m pretty sure he wasn’t happy about her kissing him although, in the moment, I just reacted on instinct, rage spurring me on. The image of her kissing him made my blood boil, and I didn’t like to think of her taking advantage of him like that either. But maybe I read it wrong? No. No, I didn’t read it wrong. I know Ryder doesn’t like her and that he’d never willingly kiss her.
“Because he’s an idiot,” Luc replies, shooting me a sympathetic smile.
Just then, I spot Ryder’s messy blond head over the far side of the room. My appetite vanishes as hurt and anger spear me on the inside. He’s back at the table with Lopez, Valeria, and their crew, looking like he never left. “He chose them over me?” I’m unable to keep the note of betrayal from my voice.
“He thinks he’s protecting you by staying away. Like I said, he’s an idiot.” Luc reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t really either, Zeta. Ryder’s deep, you know?” His nose scrunches up. “And that’s as much as he told me.”
“Why are you here?” I ask, my tone harsher than it should be. Luc isn’t the one I’m mad at. He’s just the one caught in the firing line.
“Because I’m your friend.”
“You’rehisfriend, and you should go sit with him. I don’t need you. And I don’t needhim,” I hiss, drilling my eyes into his sad ones. I don’t mean it, but it’s the anger speaking, and pushing him away before he chooses to leave will hurt less in the end.
I was foolish to think things would be different in here. Once a loner, always a loner. I know how to deal with that because I’ve had plenty of practice.
But this?
This cold, cruel rejection is something I’m not equipped to deal with, especially with the pounding pain pummeling my skull.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Luc stubbornly proclaims, picking up his plastic fork and pinning me with a determined look. “I don’t care if you want that or not. I’m staying right here.”
Over the course of the next week, Luc is like a faithful little puppy, and I both love and hate him for it. I don’t want him falling out with Ryder on my account, but that’s exactly what’s happened. After my initial anger faded, I tried to speak to Ryder the next day, but he brushed me aside, telling me he didn’t want to hang with me anymore. Luc was furious with him, and they almost came to blows.
I wish now that I’d never befriended Ryder, because having his friendship and then losing it is ten million times worse than never having known it at all. My life is gray and monotone without his larger-than-life presence in it.
Boredom is a real problem, because I’ve got so much spare time on my hands, and I hate how my mind wanders when I’m not occupied or distracted. I’ve stopped going to the common room in my free time because it hurts too much to see him in the corner by himself, playing his guitar and purposely ignoring my gaze.
Valeria sends smug smiles my direction any chance she gets, and it takes enormous willpower not to fly at her in retaliation. But I keep my head down and withdraw into myself, like I should have done from day one.
Luc still sits with me in the cafeteria despite the nonexistent dialogue between us. I admire his loyalty and wish I could tell him how much I appreciate it, but I just want him to patch things up with Ryder and leave me to lick my wounds by myself.
I’m feeling so many different things, and I return to my usual form of venting. Emotion pours out of me in the form of words, and I’m furiously scribbling lyrics into my notebook any chance I get. It’s always been one of my coping mechanisms. Anytime I needed to retreat from the real world, I buried myself in music, and I’d write song after song after song, my agony bleeding onto the pages. I’ve written hundreds of songs over the years, but I’ve no idea what happened to my notebooks. Whether they’re still back at the house with him, whether they were confiscated as evidence, or whether he threw them out along with the rest of my stuff. But at the rate I’m going, I’ll have them replaced in no time.
