29. Shane
29
Shane
S he’s acting.
She’s not really hurt.
Those tears aren’t real.
Montana isn’t capable of feeling pain.
She's a monster.
I replay these phrases in my head as I see her chin quiver, her hard stare on mine wavering as each second passes, and the weakness lying beneath begins to tear through her tough exterior.
A water droplet falls onto my cheek, and I’m snapped from the moment, breaking eye contact. I touch my face, almost wondering if a tear reluctantly fell from my eye when another drop hits my arm.
Within seconds, the sky above us opens, and the rain picks up, trickling down on the party-goers. Montana turns, her ponytail whipping as she runs around the side of the house toward the street. Lana curls into me to protect herself from the onslaught of the downpour, but I push her forward. Her curse words do nothing to thwart my focus.
“Montana!” I yell, gaining the attention of no one as they all begin running. I grip the top of my head as the rain pelts down. “Fuck!”
“Let her go!” I hear next to me.
I turn and face a rain-soaked Josiah, his dark hair matted to his head, shirt molding to his chest. His expression is one of concern for his friend, but I’m the last thing he should be concerned about.
“Do not think you have any ground to stand on here,” I growl, storming him.
“I feel I have more ground than most,” he says, raising his chin.
I shove into his chest, sending him stumbling backward. He rushes me, pushing me back.
“Fuck you,” he spits out. “Leave her alone, Croix.”
“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with her,” I say, gripping his shirt and shoving him against the metal fence. “Mind your own.”
“You can’t erase what happened to you by hurting her,” he yells through the rain.
“Erase? What am I erasing?” Rage blooms in my chest. “You don’t know shit about me and what I've been through!”
“He would’ve beat you regardless, Croix,” he says through a clap of thunder. “When are you going to stop blaming yourself for it?”
“Blaming myself?” I yell, my face inches from his. “You think this is fun for me? You think I enjoy who I am?”
“No,” he answers simply. “But I can't watch you hate yourself any more than I already have. And throwing that resentment on her won’t bring you peace.”
He has no fucking clue what brings me peace.
“I won't regret this,” I say stubbornly. “If that's what you're insinuating.”
“How many times did we need to scrape you off the streets, Croix? Overdosing, getting locked up overnight for reckless dumb shit, picking fights with the hope of getting knocked the fuck out, finding any opportunity to destroy beauty anywhere near you? You were at rock bottom before, and it’s like there's something calling you back there.”
I bark out a laugh. “The pot calling the kettle black, you degenerate fuck.”
“It was her, wasn’t it?” he says, his tone softening. “I see how you look at her. I know that darkness in your eyes. This rage, this maddening obsession with destroying her…it was never Gabriella like they always thought. I knew that because I trusted you, and you aren’t the type to lie about fucking around with my sister behind my back. But her… it’s her. You knew her before—”
I press him back into the fence. Just the mention of Montana unleashes those demons that deny their cage. I want blood. I want his blood on my fists. I crave that pain, that punishment for his ability to see through me so easily.
“He was a deadbeat dad long before the divorce,” he continues. “Long before her . She had no part in his actions. Consider his departure a fucking blessing, and let this shit die already.”
I glare down at him, nostrils flaring and fists shaking.
“Let it die,” he reiterates.
The fucking nerve of him. To assume he has any understanding of my past enough to break it down like some sort of therapist. Fuck him and his bullshit. He can’t say shit to me when he’s the one drowning in his own past. Fuck him.
“Let it die?” I growl. “Let it die?! You should’ve let me die! No one asked you to save me, so stop feeling so fucking self-righteous. You should’ve left me on that street! I didn’t ask for your help or opinion. Stay the fuck out of my business!”
“Leave her alone, Croix,” he reiterates, the softness of his tone aggravating me further.
“Say it again, Sigh,” I remark, taking another step toward him until we’re practically nose to nose again. “Tell me one more fucking time—”
“Croix!” Wheeter steps between us, placing his hands on my chest. “Sigh! That's enough! Stop fucking around and go get her! This isn’t the neighborhood for that shit. She can’t be out there alone. You know that!”
The rain pours on us and the severity of the weather enlightens me to the present.
Shaking my head in disgust at my friend, I turn away from Josiah and go look for her.