32. Juliet
JULIET
T here is nothing worse than self-awareness.
Philosophers would probably agree. To become self-aware is to be doomed to a life of utter desolation.
Because once you know how fucked you are, once you understand that nothing in this world can change your end, fighting it becomes pointless.
No wonder the greatest thinkers, the artists and creatives, the geniuses of history so often went insane or killed themselves.
Self-awareness is a goddamn tragedy.
Don’t you dare fucking cry, Juliet. If they see me cry, if they know the truth, then they won’t let go. They’ll fight. They’ll always fucking fight, and I can’t let them. He’s too powerful. He has too much money and they have… people they love.
I wish I could’ve been one of them.
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I never worried about where my next meal would come from, if the roof over my head would disappear, or if I would ever struggle to perform anything that was asked of me. For all intents and purposes, I had the perfect life until half a year ago.
Yet, even with all of the money in the world—with everyone thinking I was a spoiled, rich princess wearing the best clothes money could buy, driving a brand-new car, and a path set for greatness—I suffered.
Why?
Because I was aware that I couldn’t control any of it.
It was never my money, but my parents’, and the continuation of my life was reliant on not upsetting the status quo.
That was partially why I remained silent when Morpheus…
Well, no, that’s not entirely true. I’d try to tell my mom in my own way.
That was how I’d gotten the pills for my dreams.
I’d shoved all of my emotions and shame down, deep inside, bottled it up and left it to rot. Except, it didn’t decompose like I expected it to. It festered and grew mold and fungus and all manner of other horrible things. Anger. Pain. Hurt. Distrust. Fear.
Now, just as I’m finally excising that old wound, the bestower of it returns and he wants more than a pound of flesh. He wants all of me.
I reach back for my cell—the one that Lex bought me.
It’s almost cruel that I still remember Morpheus’ phone number.
Of all of the ones that I was told to memorize in case of an emergency, his comes back to me before either of my parents’.
Not because I’ve ever called him due to some emergency, but because now that I’m no longer on those meds Mom said would help me sleep, I’m remembering everything about him.
I fucking hate that. The one man I want to forget more than anyone else is the one man my memory latches on to.
His phone number is only part of it. I’m starting to remember the way he swirled his whiskey in those fat glasses at the dinner table when he came over to our house.
He’d sip it and then hum in the back of his throat.
The way he smelled when he pressed me down into that hotel mattress—it’d been half sweat, half cologne.
Some women might have found it arousing. All it makes me want to do is puke. I quickly type out the single line of text, letting him know I’m accepting his deal and he should pick me up in the next thirty minutes. My fate is sealed and I slowly slip my phone back into my pocket.
It buzzes against my ass and my eyes burn. I don’t look at whatever the response is. He’ll come or he’ll send someone to pick me up. Whatever the case, the end result will be the same. I’ll be there and I’ll be trapped all over again.
Sitting on Nolan’s front porch as he puts his mom in bed and makes sure she has everything she needs, I contemplate how I’m going to do what needs to be done.
I can’t tell them the truth. If they knew, they’d say they don’t care.
They’d say ‘bring it on’. They have no idea how Morpheus Calloway can fuck up all of their lives.
“Baby?” I flinch as Lex crouches down near me, rocking on his heels as he tilts his head in my direction. “Are you feeling okay?”
I pull my knees closer to me as I wrap my arms around them. “I want to wait for Nolan to come out,” I say, my voice raspy enough that I have to clear it a few times to get the words out.
Almost as if he hears me, the front door to Nolan’s house opens and he steps out into the cool night. My back stiffens as he descends the stairs and holds out a bottle first to Lex and then to Gio. When he returns there’s another in his grip, held out for me. I take it.
“Beer?” I stare at the blue-and-white label before looking up as Lex straightens to his full height.
The three of them stand around me in a half circle as Nolan takes a huge swig of his own drink and then releases a long breath. “It’s been a rough night,” he admits. “I figured we could all use one.”
“Does your mom know?” I ask as Gio puts the rim of his bottle to his lips.
Nolan shrugs and turns, popping his ass on the porch next to me and letting his legs hang down the several steps to the ground. “Probably—she doesn’t drink it, but she doesn’t mind if I do so long as I don’t get a DUI or do anything dangerous.”
I finger the label. “Your mom seems nice.” She hadn’t even commented on my last name or who my dad is, though I’m sure she knows.
“Eliza’s a boss,” Gio says with a laugh as he lowers his bottle to his side.
He grins at me before looking to Nolan. “Do you remember that time we thought it’d be a good idea to shove a firecracker inside old man Butch’s Chevy because he yelled at us for playing in his yard?
” He shakes his head. “Tore up his seats and Eliza made us mow lawns for everyone in the neighborhood for two months to pay for it.”
Nolan chuckles and I realize what G is actually doing. He’s trying to lighten the mood, to get Nolan’s mind off the fact that his mom could’ve been seriously hurt. To remind him she’s a tough woman and this won’t keep her down for long. I close my eyes, hating what I’m about to do.
“Butch didn’t yell at us again, though,” Lex points out, tipping the neck of his bottle in G’s direction. “The old man learned his lesson.”
“Yeah, but man ,” Gio groans. “Did it have to be during a record high heat wave? I came home every day smelling like ass that summer. My mama couldn’t even bear the smell of me. She wanted me to hose down in the yard before I even stepped foot in the house.”
“Maybe we deserved it,” Nolan comments.
Gio sighs. “Yeah, maybe we did.”
It gets quiet after that. Uncomfortably so. They shift on their feet and sip their beers and I can feel their attention on me. It’s now or never, I decide.
Setting down the beer, I unfold my legs from their position and slowly rise to my feet. “I’m glad your mom’s okay, Nolan,” I start.
“Juliet?” Gio’s voice wavers as he says my name. He shifts on his feet, frowning and glancing between the others before looking back at me. “What’s wrong? You sound… funny.”
Funny? Ha. There’s nothing funny about the way I sound, but I don’t say that. Instead, I maintain eye contact with the ground. It’s hard to try and force myself to look them in the face when I know what I’m about to say.
“I’ve been thinking for a while,” I lie. “And I think my uncle was right.”
“Your uncle?” Both Nolan and Lex remain silent and it’s only Gio that responds.
My throat squeezes tight around my next words as if my own body is refusing to say them. Then, I remind myself what will happen if I don’t and the constriction eases marginally, but it’s enough to get the job done.
“I want to go back home,” I say. “I don’t want to struggle anymore. This shit with Megan and everyone else in Silverwood… I can’t take it anymore.”
“Megan’s done,” G says. The sound of scraping sneakers against the sidewalk hits my ears and I lift my head, stepping back as Gio reaches out for me.
His beer bottle drops from his hand and tips onto its side, the rest of the contents leaking out across the grass next to the walkway.
“What the hell is going on in that head of yours, Prep Girl?”
“Baby?” I manage to not flinch when Lex says my nickname. Just barely.
“There will always be another Megan,” I say, and it’s probably the first truth I’ve said since I started this spiel. “I don’t want to have to fight them all.”
“You won’t have to,” Gio argues. “We’ll?—”
“I don’t need your protection!” I snap, cutting him off. Nolan’s dark stare remains on my face and still, he’s the only one who hasn’t spoken. I refuse to look at him even if his attention burns into my flesh. “What I need is to go back to my real life.”
“What the fuck does that mean? Your real life?” Gio’s brows lower over his eyes. His lips twist into a scowl. “Are we not fucking real enough for you?”
“No, you’re not.” Lie. “I want shit that you guys can’t give me.” Lie. “I want to go back to when I had everything.” Liar. Liar. Pants on fucking fire. “When no one would look down on me.”
“Juliet, are you scared about something?” Lex takes a step towards me, cutting in front of Gio. “Is there something you’re not telling us? What do you need?”
I cross my arms and curl my shoulders inward. “I need you to back the fuck off,” I snarl. Every word is like daggers scraping out of my raw throat.
Scalding hot tears burn at the back of my eyes. Surely, it’s been long enough. Morpheus isn’t stupid. He knows where I must be. Where’s the fucking car? Where’s my escape?
“Lex.” Nolan finally speaks and his voice is like ice. “Let her go. You heard what she said—she wants shit that we can’t give her.”
Lex whips around to face Nolan, a growl forming in his throat as he replies. “Shut the fuck up, you don’t know what she needs or wants.”
“But I do,” I say, reclaiming his attention, “and it’s not you.”
Silence descends in the following seconds that trail those particular words. Lex gapes at me as if I just slapped him. My insides churn with discomfort. A pair of headlights flashes on the dark empty road.
He’s here.
I start to shake.