“Fuuuuuuck,” he roars.
It isn’t helping.
He told me once, how he used to struggle with his rage.
It’s back now.
I did that.
I’ve brought out his demons.
And if it were possible to hate myself any more than I already do, I would.
I need to drive it home, and I need him to leave. To go home and forget he ever knew me. To find a nice girl who can give him the nice things he wants and needs.
And I will wither and die, but that will be okay. Because he will be safe.
“You were fun for a while,” I say. “But that’s all it was. It was a game to me, like you said. And you were just a toy. That’s it. I’m done playing with you now.”
His hand falls limp at his side, and it really hurts when you care about other people.
It hurts so goddamn much.
The threat of tears is so real, but Rory can’t see them anymore because he isn’t looking at me.
Because he believes me.
He believes the lies that spill from my lips more than any truth I’ve ever told him. Because deep down, he always knew I was a monster.
He wanted to save me, but he had to know he couldn’t.
Goodbyes are supposed to have closure. Finality.
But Rory doesn’t give me that.
He walks out on me instead. Away from me and my bullshit.
Without even looking back.
I go after him. Because fuck him for believing me.
He shouldn’t have believed me.
I tell Booker as much when he stops me.
“Scarlett, I’m so sorry,” Booker says. “But this is what you wanted. You didn’t want him involved.”
“This is all your fault,” I scream. “You could have helped me. You could have found another way.”
“I am trying to help you, Scarlett.”
I don’t believe him.
I don’t believe anything anymore.
Except the one unfailing truth that I know.
I’ve made this bed, and now I have to lie in it.
