Page 11 of Break Me Gently

I broke down again.

The tears and snot continued until I was numb.

He followed me into my dreams, and even there, he held all the power to corrupt me.

Chapter 6

Zach

The door closed and I stood there, staring at the wood. Everything had changed in the house, and that’s why I’d wanted her to get rid of Nolan.

But those soft curls between my fingers. The way she’d clung to me. Her inept kissing technique. So sweet.

What the fuck was that?

This was Amber. That snotty little goody-two-shoes everyone loved.

That kiss… holy fuck.

I heard her muffled sobs filter through the door. My eyes closed and I leaned in, pressing my ear to the door. They weren’t stopping.

Someone cleared their throat behind me.

I jumped upright, relaxing when I saw it was Luke. He stood there in a pair of shorts. I hoped his dick had shrivelled off in the cold.

“What you doing there, champ?” he asked casually.

“None of your business,” I said, stalking to my bedroom.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop, do it at your mother’s door. You might learn a few things, if you know what I mean,” he said, with a wink.

His words sank in. I grimaced at the thought. It took everything I had not to slam my door shut.

I heard his laughter before it slowly disappeared.

The moonlight left a sliver of light slip past the curtains. I paused for a moment before climbing back into bed. I tried to think of my life in Oxford. Continuous parties. Bountiful pussy on campus and off. I shouldn’t have come.

I reached for my phone and dialled my mother’s number.

Voicemail.

I checked my messages again.

She’d never wished me a happy Christmas.

I tapped edit on her contact details.

Deleting the saved name from Mum to Zoe—BirthBitch.

I thumbed over my contacts, reaching Isabella. I’d never answered her messages or listened to her voicemails. Eventually she’d stopped. It was what I’d wanted back then.

With a sigh, I locked my phone and placed it on the nightstand.

But when I closed my eyes, I saw Amber. Crooked big teeth and frizzy hair. She’d always been so happy, oblivious to the world around her. So annoying, trailing after me in the house, messing with my music, stealing my sweatshirts.

Then there was that night I was babysitting while Isabella was at the hospital. Dad was dying, and I was drinking with my friends.

Alisha read out her diary like a confessional.