No. Protect her.
I don’t fucking know anymore.
I settle on finding her, and figuring out what I’m going to do to her later. I stand up abruptly, divest myself of my bloody clothes and leave them lying in a pile. I pull on another hoodie and a fresh leather jacket, don a different pair of boots, and take off my mask. But I slip the mask in my pocket, because I’m not allowing the insect to look at my face, ever again.
She lost that right when she whored herself out and destroyed me.
“Uhm… Quill?” asks Liam tentatively. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Uh… how about Devil? They’re going to kill us if we don’t come up with a good explanation. There are so many witnesses. We’re fucked unless we figure something out. Isn’t that what we should be doing right now?”
“That’s what we should be doing,” agrees Dane, and I hesitate to get a knife from the kitchen and stab them both right now.
Instead I shrug and open the front door. “Figure it the fuck out.”
17
Piper
Eighteen years old
The clock ticks on, the only sound in the room apart from the rustling of paper and the scratching of pencils.
I finished my test fifteen minutes ago, and since then I’ve been leaning back on my chair, arms folded, staring at the hands on the clock.
I know I’m not helping my popularity by finishing tests so easily and fast. The old bookworm label has morphed into a nerd one. Even though I’m not exactly acing my math or science tests. Just English. And History, sometimes, but only when I can turn the historical events we’re learning about into stories in my head.
English is the only thing I really have no trouble with. Spelling, essays, text analysis. I’m great at it. Freaking great. I wish I could boast about it to someone, like other kids do after class when they feel rightfully proud for studying and acing a test. But if I showed even an ounce of pride, I’d get absolutely destroyed.
The bullies are out for blood, and they’ll pounce on any sign of weakness.
Well, not bullies. Not anymore.
Justbully.
Maybe I should be thankful that the army of assholes has been replaced by a single one. Maybe I should be thankful that my bully hasn’t dunked my head in the toilet since freshman year. But we’re only two months into senior year. There’ll be time yet.
I’m sure that everyone else is desperate to finish this Englishtest so they can go out and celebrate Halloween.
But I’m only looking forward to finishing so I can get the hell out of here, go home and hide from the world.
I think I’ll finish the rest ofThe Long Goodbyewhile eating cereal in my room. Kind of a sad way to spend your eighteenth birthday. It’s a good thing Dad’s working late and Mom probably forgot all about it. I’ll be left alone and can spend a quiet evening indoors.
ThankGod.The bell’s just rung. Now, if I can just get home without crossing paths with my bully, the day will officially have been a success.
__
Fifty minutes later and I have to admit to myself that the dayhasbeen a success, after all. Not even a single sighting of Quill, of his furrowed brow or of his eyes throwing murderous glares my way. Was he even in school? I haven’t seen him all day. I guess it could be possible that I just didn’t run into him, since the school buildingisbig, and Fridays are the one day we don’t share any classes, but it often feels like he’s activelytryingto run into me.
Which is ridiculous, since he hates me.
I don’t even know why he does. I mean, I guess it’s for the reason the others do—I’m an easy target, sticking out like a sore thumb with my ridiculous glasses and Goodwill clothes—but I don’t understand what’s changed since elementary school, when he seemed to be on my side.
Then again, he barely ever spoke back then. Maybe I’m the one who dreamed it all up.
No.
