20. It’s not trauma, it’s character development #2
“Don’t say that to me unless you give me a list because that thought has me seeing not red, but black.”
“It’s too early for this obsessive psycho side.” My words come out tired instead of the sharpness I intended.
His grip tightens a fraction. “I don’t care what time it is.” He leans closer, lips barely touching. “I don’t want to think about anyone else getting to see you. Touch you.”
I slip my tongue out, grazing his lower lip.
His eyes close, so do mine. We are suspended in this moment where the world around us is silent and meaningless.
His lips crash into mine, and I fold. I moan into his mouth, pressing my body into his.
He takes the hint, hand wrapping around my leg, hiking it over his hip as I grind myself against him.
“I thought you hated me, Dollface.”
“Fuck you and kiss me.” I bite his lip hard enough to make him inhale.
He’s on me in the next second, arms around my waist, my back to the wall, my body pinned.
My legs hook around his hips, no space between us.
Every rational thought screams at me to stop.
I ignore every one of them. He devours my mouth, rough and hungry, and I let him.
My anger needs somewhere to go, and right now I want it to be this.
My fingers twist in his hair. I rake my nails down his scalp, over his neck, down his back. He makes a sound that’s half a warning, half a plea.
“You want to hurt me, Lyra?” he murmurs against my mouth.
“Like you hurt me.” I bite until I taste metal. His hand fists my waist hard enough to leave bruises. “It doesn’t matter,” I whisper. “This doesn’t matter. This is just lust.”
He stills. Completely. “Will it make you feel better?” his mouth twists. “Causing me pain.” Cold spreads through me. “Hurt me, Lyra. Hit me.”
The words hit like bullets. Like a door inside me swings open and I see it—him flinching the last time, the way his face went blank, the way he said don’t ever hit me.
Like it is survival. It was as if Oliver was transported to a place he was familiar with and yet absolutely despised.
I told him I’d never hurt him or hit him again, and I mean that.
Never.
I set a hand on his chest, silently asking him to set me down. He does, my feet barely touching the floor when he takes a step back, like he’s making room for it. His throat bobs, hands hanging loose at his sides.
“No.” I plead with my eyes for him to hear every word. “I don’t want that.”
He stares at me as if he didn’t understand the words I spoke. “You should.”
“Stop.” My chest pinches. “I’ll never hit you. Not when I’m mad. Not when I’m hurt. Not even if you deserve it. This, though…this was a mistake. I still haven't even had a second to think about anything. I need that. I’m still mad at you.”
He just looks at me, confusion flickering across his face.
I clear my throat, going to walk around him when he puts a hand on my waist, leaning down to speak in my ear. “Nothing between us will be a mistake. You can be hurt, mad at me, upset, but I’m not going anywhere, Dollface.” He nips my earlobe before releasing me.
I don’t move for a moment, breathing hard, before straightening my spine and walking over, yanking open the door.
Callan is right outside, Roxy behind him with Vee at her side.
“What’s this about?” Roxy snaps, voice raspy with sleep.
Callan walks in first, still looking mildly traumatized. Roxy trudges in last and shuts the door.
Oliver doesn’t waste a moment. “Jade’s dead.”
I sit down hard on the edge of my bed. Roxy drops beside me, her thigh pressed to mine. “Hold on. I think I heard you wrong. Repeat that.” Roxy reaches down, grabbing my hand.
Oliver repeats himself. “A report went into the system tonight. Jade Hamilton is presumed deceased.”
“Presumed,” I repeat. “So, they didn’t find her.”
Callan shakes his head. “They found her car. And blood on the rocks below. They’re saying the ocean took the rest.”
“She wouldn’t jump,” I say.
Roxy snorts. “I don’t care if she jumped, got pushed, or got carried off by seagulls.”
I glance at Roxy, and she gives me a tight look that says, Don’t you dare apologize for not being sad.
I don’t.
“She’s right,” Vee adds, brows furrowing in concentration. “She wouldn’t have jumped. Jade was way too selfish. If you guys take me to the location, I can determine if the drop killed her or—”
She stops talking when we all stare at her in shock. She shrugs unbothered. “What?”
“You can determine if the drop killed her by looking at it?”
“Well, taking in the water volume below the slope incline, then we determine if—” She waves her hand in front of her face. “Never mind. I’ll go check it out regardless once the police leave the scene.”
“Who would have thought Vee would be so morbid?” I agree with Roxy.
“Not morbid. Curious.” Vienna shrugs and settles deeper into the chair by the window.
I look back at Oliver. “How did you find out?”
Oliver remains frustratingly silent on that front.
Callan shifts. “There’s more.”
“Of course there is.” I rub my face, tired, overwhelmed, all of the above, and don't even begin to express what I’m feeling.
“They listed you as a person of interest.”
“What?” Roxy exclaims.
“They questioned me about it. I knew about the car and her being missing,” I add.
Roxy turns to me slowly. “They questioned you?”
“Yeah, today.” I look between Callan and Oliver. “It's why I missed class. They asked me questions about Amelia and the last time I saw Jade.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Oliver's voice slices across the room.
My eyes cut to his. “You know why.”
His mouth tightens. “Lyra—”
“Do you think Leo had anything to do with it?” I cut him off.
“Possibly.” Oliver nods, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re not staying alone.” I glance at him. At the lips I just tasted. The body I just had my hands on. “I’m staying,” he says, like it’s already decided.
That brings me back down. “What, no!” I sputter a disbelieving laugh. “You’re not.”
His jaw tics. “Lyra.”
“I said no.”
Oliver’s eyes flick to Roxy, then Vee. “You’re staying then.”
Roxy blinks. “Yeah, no shit.”
“Girls’ sleepover.” Vee smiles big, not even fazed that Jade is dead. Maybe this girl is more layered than I first thought.
Callan opens the door, keeping his body between Oliver and me. “We told her. Mission accomplished. Give her some space.”
Oliver doesn’t move until Callan is in the hall. His gaze stays on me until the last possible second before he follows him out. The door clicks shut behind him. The room feels different the second he’s gone.
Roxy gets up, locking the door before making her way to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee. “I think I missed a few things, and you need a distraction, so why don't you tell me why you hate Oliver right now? Besides the whole vigil thing, because I’m getting the sense it runs deeper.”
That’s how we all end up sitting in bed talking until the sun comes up about everything that has happened over the last few days.
The next day, the news hits campus and spreads fast. This time, there isn’t a candle vigil. Just a photo of Jade set up outside Ashford Hall, a little table pushed against the brick, where people could leave flowers and notes.
Most of the campus still looks raw from Amelia. That grief hasn’t even had time to settle, and now it’s being stacked on top of itself. Everyone feels it hard for a few days, and then the world keeps turning. Classes keep assigning papers. Cafés keep serving lattes.
I don’t feel sad about Jade. I don’t miss her.
I think about what she did, what she helped do, and all I feel is this quiet, guilty relief that she can’t touch my life anymore.
But then I see the flowers. I think about her family getting that phone call.
I think about the way grief doesn’t check whether someone deserved it before it destroys the people who loved them anyway.
So no, I don’t mourn Jade. I hurt for the people who will hurt because of her death, same with Amelia.
And still, there’s a smaller truth underneath all of it I can’t ignore. I haven’t gotten any other unknown messages since the vigil. Not one. I keep expecting another text or image every time I check my phone. But it never comes. The silence is its own kind of answer.