I swear to the Valories, I taste the blood on my tongue now. His features twist as though he has a salty tang in his mouth as well.
Mellcom went about his business in the kitchen, leaving Jeremiah to leer over me and cuss me seven ways to the stars.
You stupid, crazy bitch.
I pulled myself up, stomped to my room, and stayed there for the day, figuring that was all I’d get for something as simple as laughing.
I was wrong.
He snatched me out of my bed that night and dragged me to his room. I fought and shrieked the entire time as he tied me to the end of his frame.
My heart pounded in my throat just as it’s doing now.
The thud has me taking an unconscious step toward him.
Unlike now, in that moment, I was scared shitless for whatever he had planned next, but I didn’t let him see that through my glare.
Imagine my surprise, disgust, and honestly, even more heartbreak as he marched back into his room with a giggling Danica on his arm.
All those years, I used her crush on Mellcom as an excuse for why I couldn’t be friends with her. She tried and tried to make amends after our insignificant fallout.
In that moment, her eyes held mine as he stripped her shirt away, and I knew I was always right. I may not have wanted friendships, but obviously, my gut knew she wouldn’t have made a good friend, anyway.
I sat there, stoic—numb—as he bent her over the side of his bed and fucked her right there beside me. We stared into eachother’s eyes the entire time with very similar emotions but for very different reasons.
Same as we’re doing presently.
Our disgust and disappointment are mutual, I suppose.
When he asked if I thought this was funny, I should’ve said no. Instead, of course, my big mouth said, “funniest three minutes ever.”
He pulled out of her, shot his nasty-ass cum all over me, then left me there. Mellcom came and untied me in the morning. He wouldn’t let me shower before training.
He knew what Jeremiah had done.
My face falls unnaturally still and lethally serious as I force the memory out of my mind. It’s challenging to do when the person who caused that dreadful experience is standing a mere foot from me.
“Is he dead?”
His body flinches. “That would make you so—”
“Is. He. Dead?”
The breath he takes is so harsh, his chest expands and his nostrils flare.
“No, he was taken when all the others starshot away.”
My gaze scans the bloodstained, empty battlefield again.
That’s what the God of Obliteration did when he flicked his wrist.
“Then you and your Valtrue have a chance to get him back.”
“That’s taurnshit. After every fucking thing he’s done for—”
My fist cuts his shout off mid-sentence, and my body follows him to the ground. The screams leaving my throat are raw and overwhelming. I let the heartbreak of this whole damned day surface and erupt out of me.
I chant ‘fuck you’ with every landed strike.
