I glance around the place. The walls are white, but I painted abstract colors all over, giving it a Picasso vibe. My figurines and collectibles line most of the walls in cabinets, much like a bookworm would havebookcases. Colorful pillows and throws litter the couch in an array of different colors.
Basically, it looks like someone threw up a coloring book in my home. But I love it. It’s me—a chaotic mess.
“So… you said you needed to talk to me about something?” she asks quietly, sipping on her drink. “I’m going out of my mind with what you want to tell me.”
I’d laugh if the situation didn’t feel so soul-destroying. Secrets and lies are about to come undone, but which one of us will come out still standing?
I loosen my tie, stalling for time. Blake waits somewhat patiently, her body frozen in place, but it's her eyes that tell me the not knowing is killing her.
“Were you raped?” I blurt. I’m surprised and a little bit proud of myself for saying the words out loud. I didn’t think I’d get my mouth to work like it usually does. Could have probably done with being a bit nicer about it, mind you.
Blake’s eyes go wide, and her face drains of color. “Wh-what?” she stutters out, standing up straight and pushing her shoulders back. “I don’t know what you mean.”
My jaw ticks. “I’m trying really hard to mend bridges here, Blake, so don’t lie to me.”
I really fucking hate liars.
“Either way, it’s none of your business,” she snaps defensively.
The fact she’s getting defensive immediately puts me on high alert. If we’re just having a conversation, why’s she acting like this?
“Really?” I scoff, frustration simmering under the surface because Ineedher to tell me. “Well, considering you fucked up my life, I think I have a right to know,” I growl, my tone laced with threat.
“Here we go again with the ‘you fucked up my life,’ argument,” she says in a low-pitched tone. “You don’t get to act as if you hate me for weeks, Theo, and then demand shit from me you most certainly do not have the right to know about. I knew this was too good to be true,” she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “You can’t leave anything alone, can you?”
“I’m a fucking lawyer, Blake, what do you think?” I quip with a raised brow. “Tell me the truth. Were. You. Raped?”
She scoffs, rolling her eyes. I snap, stalking toward her and grabbing her by the throat. I put one foot in front of the other until she’s backed against the wall. Blake’s eyes are wide, there’s fear there, but there’s also something else—defiance.
“Typical,” I sneer. “Still can’t tell the truth even now.”
“So this is why you really brought me here? To rehash the past? I’m not interested in doing that. What happened to me is my business, not yours,” she grits out, her teeth clenched and a dark glint to her eyes.
This conversation went from zero to a hundred in a millisecond, and my head’s all over the place. Why won’t she tell me the truth so I can end this torment once and for all with her? So I can forget about her and move on. Why can’t sheseethat?
“I loved you, and you ruined me,” I choke out, emotion pooling in my chest.
Her eyes turn cold, her lips pinching as she spits, “I didn’t ruin you; you did that to yourself. I wasn’t that into you anyway.”
“Certainly didn’t fucking look like it from where I was standing. Just fuckingtellme,” I plead as my mind begins to spiral out of control. I can feel myself going into shutdown mode as my body does the one thing it knows how to do—protect me.
“You don’t get to force me into telling you about private things just to absolve you ofyourdemons. That’s not how it works,” she sneers, a fire in her eyes that tells me to back off, but Ican’t. I have to know.
“Just fucking tell me, Blake. Were you raped, or were you just the cheating whore I thought you were?” I shout, inches from her face.
“It’s not cheating if you never loved the person,” she shouts back.
I gasp, letting go of her neck and reeling back like she’d hit me. All of my worst fears coming to light—that she never loved me like she said she did, that everything we had together was a lie. The breath leaves me in a wave, and I’m unable to think clearly as visions assault my senses—the night I found her, the punishments I took as a kid, all the times I was told I wasn’t good enough.
“You’re just trash, Theo.”
“I never wanted you.”
“You’re pathetic.”
“Well, I never loved you.”
“I gave you fuckingeverything,” I bellow, clutching the strands of my hair and pulling. The bite of pain against my scalp momentarily douses the pain in my chest. “But it was never good enough for you.Iwas never good enough for you.”
