Deep down, I know warnings are useless. He won’t listen. So I do what I should have done from the get-go. I go to his contact and block his number. But not before one last message appears on my screen.
Damien:
This isn’t done just because you say you’re done.
CHAPTER FOUR
MATTHEW
My fingers clench into a fist as I shove the door open. The loudbangreverberates in the air, but I ignore it as I walk out of the office. My ears are ringing, and my breathing is ragged as my feet eat the distance.
I need to get away.
As far as possible.
As fast as possible.
Before I do or say something that will blow up in my face.
The sound of laughter stops me in my tracks. Instead of following the sound, I take a turn around the building. Leaning against the wall, I tilt my head back. My skull collides with the brick, but I barely feel the pain. My knees wobble slightly, so I lower myself to the ground. Uncurling my fingers, I slide my hand into the pocket of my pants and pull out the box.
I grab a cigarette and put it between my lips. It takes me a few tries before I manage to light it. I take in a long pull, my eyes falling shut as the nicotine fills my lungs. Tilting my head back, I slowly let the smoke out, watching the little gray clouds as the coach’s words ring in my head.
Failing.
I’m fucking failing.
Not that I care about the grades one way or the other, but failing means being kicked off the team. And I can’t have that. Not when being on the team is my only lifeline. The only thing that holds me together.
“Fucking hell!” I yell, my fisted palm connecting with the ground.
The panic I’ve been fighting since I heard the words returns in full force. It’s like a tsunami rising inside me. I try to suck in a breath, but it’s like my chest is filling with water, making it impossible to breathe.
My nails dig into my palm to the point of pain. I bring my shaky fingers to my mouth, taking another pull from the cigarette.
They usually help calm me down, but now even that doesn’t work. I’m drowning, and there’s no way out.
I run my hand through my hair, pulling at the thick strands.
How the hell am I supposed to fix this?
I can’t lose this.
It’s all your fault,the little voice at the back of my head taunts.You fuck everything up.
As if I don’t know that.
“You know cigarettes kill, right?”
My head snaps up, the softly spoken question breaking me from my thoughts, my gaze locking in on the person standing a few feet away.
A girl.
She’s standing under the sun. The bright light illuminating her hair and making it glow like a halo.
An angel.
As if an angel would ever appear for you.
