Chapter Seventeen Joshua
Chapter Seventeen
Joshua
Sleep didn’t come.
I’d shut the door, locked it, and told myself I was done. That was supposed to be it. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw her standing there. That damn envelope stretched out in her shaking hands. Her still in that uniform, practically drowning in it. Looking at me like—like I was one of them.
Like I’d bought her.
My stomach twisted.
Why the hell would she think that? After tonight. After I—
I paid because I could. Because it kept her away from them. Because she deserved to breathe for one damn second.
Not because I wanted something back.
But she’d come all the way here. At midnight. Just to shove the money at me like I was another bastard with my hand out.
What does she think I am? What the fuck does she think of me?
I turned onto my side, restless, dragging a hand down my face. My chest felt too tight, my head too loud.
Why’d she knock again? Why didn’t she just leave? And why did it feel worse—so much worse—that she thought I wanted her body in return, than when she actually hated me?
Because at least hate was clean. Simple. But this?
Bullshit.
How the fuck could she think that?
After everything, I sat upstairs with her; I kept her safe; I spent the kind of money most people wouldn’t see in a year just to anchor her there.
I wrapped her up, for fuck’s sake. Covered her. And she still looked at me like every other bastard waving bills in her face.
My fault.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Yeah, that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? My fault. From day one, I made her life hell. I made her feel like she didn’t belong. Like she was nothing. So why the fuck would she believe me now? Why would she believe I could be different?
She can’t.
That’s on me.
I turned over, then sat up, running my hands through my hair, gripping hard until my scalp burned. My chest hurt, like I’d swallowed something too big to breathe around.
God, the way she held that money out. Like she was begging me to take it, begging me not to own her. She thought she had to buy her way out of me.
I wanted to punch a hole through the wall. I wanted to scream until my throat bled. Because it was wrong. Because it made me sick. Because if she thinks that’s who I am, if that’s what she believes about me, I don’t know if I can stand it.
I crashed my body back down onto the mattress and clutched my blanket tightly as if it could ground me from my thoughts.
Focus on trying to sleep, Maxine; there’s a game tomorrow. First game of the season, stop thinking about stupid shit.
Maxine. Max… Maxine. Honey, breathe through your nose and out your mouth, okay? Mommy’s sorry for coming home late, don’t cry, hm?
Mom.
Mom, come back. Help me. I don’t want to be stuck here anymore. I don’t want to be looked at that way by her anymore, Mom.
Did I not do good?
Am I bad? Am I bad again?
Will she ever…
Lo—Like me.