Chapter 13

Red.

That’s all I see.

Not even the sting in my hands can cut through the fury pulsing through me.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to pound into his smug, entitled face until there was nothing left, but she stopped me.

Any kind of control vanished. And now all I want to do is escape.

Leave.

Run.

I don’t fucking care, but I can’t see him again.

How could he fucking do that? I pound the steering wheel with my fists, which only makes them throb more.

“Easy, Jere.” Her voice is soft, but there’s a tremor that’s not normally there. She’s frightened, and right now, I don’t know if it’s just because of him or what she saw after.

“Fuck!”

She shrinks into her seat, and I’m hit with a punch of guilt.

“Sorry. We’ll be at yours in a second.”

“I don’t want to go in yet. Can we just drive around for a bit?”

“Sure.” I’ll do whatever she wants because how am I ever going to make this up to her? My fucking father. He’s had affairs, put my mother through countless shitty situations, and he’s always liked younger women, but Anna?

My hands strangle the wheel as if it were my father’s throat. Time isn’t helping. There’s this anger in my chest, hurting like he was the one to lay into me, pounding on my chest, and it’s not getting any easier.

Silence stretches in the car, and I don’t know what to fill it with. What can I say to her?

It’s too much, being trapped in the car, so I start to drive back in the direction of her house. She doesn’t say anything, so I hope she’s ready. She doesn’t have to say anything to anyone. The thought of admitting what happened burns acid through the pit of my stomach.

We reach her house, and I jump out of the car and rush around to open her door for her and help her down. I want to wrap my arm around her and keep her tucked by my side.

Becca isn’t home, so we make it up to her room without any questions, but we’re both in shock. Or denial. Or something.

“You okay?” I ask out of some sort of desperation to know that she is.

She looks at me and nods, but I don’t believe her. How can she be?

I open my arms, and she crashes into me, squeezing me tighter than I’ve ever felt. My whole body tenses, desperate not to crush her too hard. We stay like that — propping each other up. At least she’s not running from me, too.

Finally, she steps back and looks up at me. But I can’t hold her gaze.

“I’m just going to wash up.” I lift my hands, the blood still stained after the shit job of cleaning up I did the first time.

As I look at her, all I see is my fucking father. It brings back the anger that shot through me like a bullet, bringing that crazy, out-of-control feeling. I hate it.

In the bathroom, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are still glassy. He did this.

He ruined it.

How is she going to love me now?

She is my everything, and he tried to take that away. Tried to ruin her. He’s a sick fucking bastard.

My jaw clenches, and my teeth grind together. My fists ball, but I can’t lash out again. Anna needs me.

Fuck, I need her.

It’s the first time I think I’ve ever understood my mother and how she copes, and suddenly all I want to do is go to her and cry — take a bottle and forget this evening ever started.

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