Deliverance

Chapter Thirty Eight

Maggie

The next day, Maryia and I have come back from our classes for the day and are getting settled in for a movie night in my room.

“I’m gonna take a shower and get into pajamas. Want to join me?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I’m good. You relax.”

I nod as I step inside the bathroom. The guilt is beginning to fester inside me, and it’s only been a day. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this up. Especially when Maryia is being so goddamn lovey. She is overcompensating for being a jealous psycho, but you know, maybe she had a little bit of a reason to be. I mean, I didn’t think she did, but clearly…I was wrong.

I texted Brad that I needed him to come watch Bridgette today, and he didn’t question me, just said that he was on his way. He’s honestly the best. I know Bridgette and him have their sibling stuff to work through, but he’s a great guy.

As I’m in the shower, I realize that I left the new bottle of shampoo on my dresser. Fuck. Leaving the shower running, I lay down a towel on the floor as I grab another to wrap around me before slipping out of the bathroom. When I open the door, Maryia practically jumps out of her skin, setting my phone onto my desk. I pause, looking between her and the phone.

“You done already?” she asks in a high-pitched tone betraying her guilt.

“I forgot my shampoo. Were…” I pause. “Were you going through my phone?”

She stares at me for a moment before ducking her head.

“I was just making sure you weren’t texting anyone.”

“Seriously? What happened to you trusting me and cutting back the jealous bullshit?” I ask as I snatch my phone.

I know, I know, I’m being hypocritical. That’s not the point, though.

“I’m sorry!” she defends. “Your phone buzzed and so I just glanced at who it was, and what do you know, it was Skyla. Per usual,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh my god, Maryia. You have to quit the jealous bullshit with Sky. She’s my best friend! She’s straight. End of discussion.”

“Well, I can’t trust you!” she snaps.

“Why?” I throw back, instantly on edge.

She frowns. “Because if I do, then I could get hurt,” she says as she throws her purse over her shoulder.

I blink, more than a little flabbergasted. “So, you tell me all about how you’re going to trust me, when you don’t. Then the instant I turn my back, you snoop through my phone, I call you out, and you’re the one to storm out? Is that what’s going on here?”

“Guess so!” she says as she opens the door and slams it shut.

What the fuck? Crazy bitch.

Looking down at my phone, I notice it’s not even open to my text messages. She’s not on anything. She must of exited out of whatever the fuck she was snooping through before throwing the phone.

Pulling up my texts, I go to my thread with Sky and see a couple of texts.

Skyla: Hey, I’m sorry I’ve been MIA. Things have been…weird.

Skyla: Are you free for dinner? You could come over here?

Dinner away from campus sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.

* * *

“How is it, ladies?” Ronan asks.

“Really good, thank you,” I say over a mouthful of quite literally the best eggplant parmesan I’ve ever had. “Are you sure you guys don’t want to join us?” I ask.

“We do. We were told we weren’t allowed,” Liam says with a roll of his eyes.

Skyla shoots him a look that has a playful smirk transforming his face. Watching Liam Walcott go from playboy to puppy dog has got to be the most intense transformation I’ve ever witnessed. Scratch that, watching Asher Putnam go from manwhore to doting husband, is definitely the one that has me thrown for a loop.

“I didn’t say you weren’t allowed, just that I haven’t had much girl time with…everything,” she says cryptically.

“He knows, princess. He’s just being a little shit,” Asher says as he places a featherlight kiss against Sky’s forehead.

See what I mean? Who the fuck is this?

“We’re going to order some takeout and hang in the rec room upstairs. If you need us, give a shout.” Wesley smiles as the group of them make their way out of the kitchen.

Well, all but one.

Skyla sighs and shakes her head.

“Vincent, can we have some alone time? Please?”

He narrows his eyes at me like I’m public enemy number one. Even though I’ve done nothing wrong, I suddenly feel like I have. Griggs has that effect on a person.

Reluctantly, he presses a kiss to the top of Sky’s head before making his way out of the room. It isn’t until he crests the corner that I can actually relax. God, I don’t know how she can be in love with that guy. He has this dark energy about him. Like he’s the embodiment of death knocking on your door.

“You didn’t have to kick your boyfriends out, Sky. I know how attached at the hip you all are. Or attached at the genitals, whatever you want to call it.”

Skyla lets out a dry laugh like she can’t stand me, even though we both know she couldn’t live without me. I know I couldn’t live without her.

“They will survive. I’ve been a shitty friend lately. You are the priority right now,” she says, reaching out and squeezing my hand.

I smile softly. “So, are we going to talk about that?”

“About what?” she asks as she takes a bite of her food.

“You going MIA, acting all cagey about you being busy with ‘everything,’” I say, using air quotes as I do.

She grimaces. “Would you drop it if I told you I can’t tell you just yet?”

“Probably not, but it’s worth a try.” I shrug.

She laughs stiffly, worry etched into her features as she runs a hand through her blonde hair. I push my shoulder into hers as I speak softly.

“Hey, I’m teasing. If you’re not ready to talk about something, we won’t talk about it. You know I’m here whenever you need me.”

Skyla smiles gratefully and nods.

“Thank you, and I never got to thank you and Maryia for coming with me to lunch the other day. I really like her for you.”

Suddenly, my smile becomes strained at the reminder of my girlfriend. We all grabbed lunch downtown a week ago, before everything that happened with Bridgette and before Sky went practically off the grid. Life was so simple just a week ago. How did things get so fucked so fast?

“Yeah,” I say as I take a bite.

Sky frowns. “Do we not like her anymore? Did you guys break up?”

“What? Why?” I ask.

Her brows furrow. “Because you’re acting like you couldn’t care less about her. What happened? You guys were practically dry fucking on the table when we went to lunch the other day.”

I shrug. “She’s really jealous. We fight a lot,” I lie. Well, it’s not a lie. Both are true statements, though neither are the reason for my hesitance with her.

“Really?” Skyla asks with a frown. “That sucks. If you can’t have trust in a relationship, then there is no use in having one.”

Her words are like a knife in my gut, twisting and turning as guilt eats at me. Fuck. I know I’ve said it before, but I’m not this person. I don’t do this. I don’t cheat. I don’t lie. I’m upfront and honest, always.

My mouth opens, and I’m ready to spill my guts to Skyla when she speaks.

“How is Bridgette?”

“What do you mean?” I ask quickly, instantly on edge.

“I may have been MIA, but people still talk, Mags. I heard that she was taken out of her dorm on a stretcher, you giving her CPR.”

Skyla levels me with a look and waits in silence. It’s not a judgmental one, more like one of patience. She’s opened up the field and is waiting to see what I’m going to do with it. I lick my lips nervously, unsure of what to say. I know Bridgette. I know she wants as little people to know as possible. She’s too proud, too vulnerable, and even for my best friend, I won’t betray her privacy like that. So, I keep it vague.

“She was sick. I found her.”

“That was convenient,” Skyla says.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs, pushing her plate to the side.

“I just didn’t realize you two stayed in contact. I thought after the whole fork thing, you two?—”

“We did or didn’t. I actually don’t know where you were going with that. It was luck. I had a feeling, and I found her in her room. Called 911. It’s not a big deal.” I shrug.

Skyla tilts her head to the side like she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t say anything, and I’m grateful for it. Soon, the conversation falls into simple comfortability. We end up finishing dinner and decide on a movie. We’re halfway through Skyla’s favorite comedy when I grab us a bottle of wine from the kitchen.

I hear the sound of my phone ding and Skyla picks it up, reading the screen.

“It’s Harry,” she says. “He says that you need to come home for therapy tonight or?—”

She pauses mid-sentence as all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Slowly, I turn to see Skyla staring at my phone with a frown. Her eyes swing to my own as she tilts her head.

“Maggie, why would he need to threaten you to go to therapy? Since when are you even in therapy? Why is he scheduling it? Why?—”

She cuts herself off, the cogs in her head turning before realization widens her eyes. Her gaze flicks down to my arms that are conveniently covered with a long sleeved shirt. I know what she’s looking for. Skyla spotted the cigarette burns a little bit ago. She questioned me then, but thankfully dropped it. I can tell by the look on her face I won’t be granted that courtesy twice.

“Maggie,” she says evenly. She seems to be struggling with her words before she finally speaks. “He doesn’t…does he?”

I swallow. “What do you mean?”

“Is Harry trying to…convert you? Is he forcing you to participate in some kind of…conversion therapy? To make you…”

“Normal?” I question with a derisive snort, hoping it hides the fear in my voice.

“Maggie,” she says, the heartbreak in her voice pulling my eyes to hers.

All of a sudden, all my strength, all my resolve, evaporates in an instant.

“I keep telling myself it’ll be the last time. That he’ll give up. That…that…”

“Oh my god!” she says as she rushes over to me.

I don’t realize I’ve collapsed to the ground until I’m sitting on my ass, my head in my hands, as I sob.

“He got to me for a while there, Sky. I was almost…afraid of Maryia before we got back together. He’s evil and sick. I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I was scared of what he’d do to me if I didn’t cooperate. He hasn’t reached out since Christmas. I thought maybe he convinced himself I was cured, or he lost interest. I just…hoped. Oh god, I can’t do it, Sky. Not right now. Not again.”

“Shhh,” she says, pulling me into her arms. “You’ll never have to. I promise, he will never hurt you again.”

“You can’t promise that,” I say with a shaking voice.

“Of course I can,” she says. “Vincent!” she shouts.

Five pairs of thundering feet echo through the house, the goth tattooed god making his appearance first as the others fill into the room right behind him.

“Siren,” Vincent says to Skyla, like he’s simply answering her call.

“I need you to kill Harry Brenton.”

“What? What did Brenton do?” Ronan asks as Vincent nods.

“Done.”

Vincent turns on his heel, heading for the door as I call out to him.

“Wait! Stop! Make him stop!” I say as I turn to Skyla.

Like she’s the Griggs whisperer, she says a single word, and he freezes.

“Stop.” Turning to face me, she shakes her head. “Why? That son of a bitch tried to break you. He’s hurt you. He doesn’t deserve to live, Maggie.”

“He’s still hurting you?” Asher asks.

“Still? You knew my best friend was being tortured and you didn’t fucking tell me?” she shrieks at her husband.

Asher’s eyebrows knit together. “Tortured? I caught her mom smacking her and assumed Harry had done the same.”

“He’s been putting her through fucking conversion therapy!” Skyla snaps, earning pained winces from all the guys.

Liam most of all looks absolutely devastated for me. His sympathy practically suffocates the air as he approaches us, crouching down beside me as he shakes his head.

“Bartlett…really?”

Maybe he feels so much sympathy because, he too, is an outsider in this society. Sure, he’s a Legacy, well technically an Elder since his induction, but he is a very proud queer man. I’m not exactly sure how he identifies because, obviously, he’s with Skyla, but I know him and his reputation enough to know that he’s the embarrassment of his family. That his sexuality is something they are desperate to keep hidden. He knows what that piece feels like, but it doesn’t make me feel good. I’m just sad for him. Sad for anyone who has to endure a life like this.

“I’ve stayed strong to who I am. I mean, I’m still dating Maryia.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

“At what cost?” Sky asks. “He has to die.”

“You can’t just send out your boyfriend to kill someone because they hurt me.”

“The hell I can’t. That’s the perk of having an eliminator for a boyfriend, right?” she asks, her eyes coming to Vincent.

“Whatever you need, Siren,” he says dutifully, like he’s nothing but her devoted servant.

“You can’t kill him. He’s an ass, but he’s all Bridgette and Brad have left. I just…I can’t go back there.”

“You never will,” Sky says. “I promise.”

“How can you promise that?” I ask with a shake of my head.

“Because you’ll refuse him if he ever requests your presence, and if he tries to corner you or take you by force, then we will turn Vincent loose on him.” Asher fills in.

Griggs nods, a bloodthirsty flicker crossing his gaze before I look back to Skyla. She nods like that pacifies her. Holy fuck, since when did my sweet best friend turn into such a desensitized hard ass? What have these guys done to her? Or more likely, what the fuck have they all been up to lately?

“Okay,” I agree. “Thank you,” I say to Skyla before my eyes move around the room.

All the guys nod simply, like I shouldn’t think anything of it. The fact is, Skyla is their whole world. Each of them would do anything for her, and if I mean something to her, then I technically mean something to them. At least, that’s how it seems. Guess I don’t just have Brad now as a big brother figure. Thanks to my best friend and her magical, alluring pussy, I have five more brothers to add to the roster.

Wesley followed me all the way back to my dorm, at Skyla’s insistence, before walking me to my door. When we got there, an unexpected visitor was waiting for me. As soon as I see her, my feet falter. She’s leaning up against the door, her arms crossed. Bridgette’s eyes come to us as she quickly pushes away from the door.

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Hey.”

Wesley frowns; he doesn’t like her, and rightfully so. I mean, he only knows her as the girl who has slapped, bullied, and broken a goddamn plate over the head of the woman he loves.

“You good, Bartlett?” he asks me, keeping his eyes on Bridgette as he does.

I nod. “Thanks.”

He nods once in response, sending Bridgette one last scathing look before he heads for the elevator. Bridgette’s eyes track him.

“What’s with the escort? Are you okay?”

I wave her off as I take a step closer.

“Do you need something?”

She rolls her lips together. “Could I come in?”

I toy with the idea for all of point two seconds before I shake my head.

“I think it’s best if we stay out here.”

She frowns at that and nods like it’s the answer she expected.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her blue eyes practically glowing in this dim hallway. “About the other day. I…that wasn’t a fair position to put you in,” she says as she takes another step closer, lowering her voice.

I do the same so we can speak in just above a whisper.

“It’s not your fault, Bridgette. I made the promise to be faithful, and I made the decision to break it,” I say with a shrug.

Her frown deepens as she looks down at the floor.

“I remember making a decision like that; biggest mistake of my life,” she says as her eyes flick up to me briefly.

My heart tugs at the way she says that. Finding her with Asher was definitely only the start of our story. I thought it would have been our demise; instead, we descended into this messy and complicated limbo, where neither of us are getting what we want. Deceit, betrayal, and hurt. All the good times fade away, and suddenly. those three emotions are all that remain. Fuck, I have to tell Maryia.

Soon.

“I just came by to say that I’m sorry. To say that I know you’re with…her,” she says, almost like she’s gritting her teeth as she does. “I, uhm. I wrote this for you. I had my first therapy session today. She said that I should write letters when I don’t know how to talk to someone or about something, so…yeah.”

Bridgette reaches her hand out, giving me a white envelope with no name on it, just a red kiss. It looks like the one she tore up in her room.

Slowly, I take it from her and she nods, moving past me as she heads down the hallway. I’m glad she’s already started therapy. That’s a good sign, and she’s already doing homework for it. Even better. I don’t move from my spot until I watch her sleek black hair slip into the elevator and the doors shut.

Pulling out my key card, I open my door and slip inside. I drop my bag onto my dresser before walking to the edge of the bed, the envelope still clutched in my hands.

I take a few breaths before I slide my finger under the seam, prying it open.

Her loopy handwriting fills the page as my eyes begin to devour every word.

Maggie,

I don’t know if you’ll even read this letter, and I won’t blame you if you don’t. We seem to constantly be stuck in an endless loop of pain. Hurt is thrown back and forth between us like a game of hacky sack. You’re the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt, so knowing that I do, and that I did? The guilt eats away at me every day.

I’m sorry that I pressured you the other day. You were taking care of me and I pushed. I was selfish and blinded by how much I missed you, that once again, inadvertently, I hurt you. I put you into a position that you didn’t deserve to be in, and for that and a million other things, I’m sorry.

You asked me why I took those pills, and though I’m sure you’ve inferred plenty about my life, you don’t have all the details. All the facts.

I don’t know how to say the words out loud. I don’t even really know how to articulate why I did what I did. Chalk it up to an overwhelming amount of childhood trauma, pain, and abuse all wrapped up in an insecure package, terrified of what life holds. More scared of what’s to come in this life than in death.

It’s set that I’m going to marry Thomas Booth…did you know that? My father drew up the contract on Christmas Eve and he gave me the ring before Walcott’s induction celebration. The night I watched you and Maryia all night, even when you didn’t know you had eyes on you. You looked so happy, free. I wanted to know what that was like.

That night I got absolutely trashed, desperate to grab onto anything…tangible, anything real. That was the night I made my plan, that I settled on my decision. That I would seek Deliverance from this unholy nightmare of a town, from this evil society, from…everything.

Looking back now, I can see how it’s so simple to take the easy way out. What’s harder is persevering. Pushing through. I’m going to try, Maggie. I’m going to fight to make it out the other side. For myself.

And maybe a little for you.

All my love,

Bridgette

I set the letter down slowly, blinking away tears I didn’t know I had as I stare at the floor. A million thoughts begin raging through my head. So many cloud my vision that I don’t even realize I’m standing up. I don’t realize I’m grabbing a blank piece of paper, and I don’t comprehend that I’m already a quarter way down the page when I finally snap out of it.