Page 13 of Our Ruined Beginnings

Whoever set that scene, they wanted it to hurt. They wanted it to harm. They want me to pay. And who’s to say they’re wrong?

It’s funny, really. I don’t even remember that night.

All I know is what I’ve been told by others—my father, police officers, former friends—and seen since.

Their memories. Their recounts. Their images.

The words that were splayed in black ink, spread out for all to see. The night recounted over and over again. I was there, and yet I’m the one that lives in the dark. My mind shields me from the truth, blackening out the events so that even if I wanted to relive them, I can’t.

A tear spills over my lashes, and I hastily slap it away, clenching my eyes shut before the rest can follow. I deserve this. Their hate; their vitriol. But still, it doesn’t make this easier. If I could go back, I would. I’d put myself in the passenger seat that night instead of my best friend. I’d never have gotten behind the wheel. I’d never have stepped foot in that party.

Fuck.

Pain rattles up my arms as my palms collide with the black and white wall over and over again. A summer’s worth of emotions hit me all at once, sending me to my knees on the cracked tiles as tears begin to spill in earnest.

My mind assaults me with rage, anger, self-pity, grief—all the feelings I tried so hard to push to the back, to not acknowledge, because feeling them made it real. Feeling them meant I really did drive the car that stole my best friend’s future. I allowed myself to be sad—allowed myself to hate me—because it’s the least I deserve.

But the rest, I pushed them all away.

A door slams open behind me, and I hear my name called, but I can’t answer. My throat is raw, choking me as I fight against the sobs to pull in oxygen.

“Harper! Where the fuck are you?” The shower door opens behind me, and a light gasp fills the space before my naked body is wrapped in a towel and two lithe arms fall around my shoulders, pulling me tight.

Kinsley slides to the floor beside me, hauling me into her chest as I cry.

I cry for the girl I once was, the friends that I lost, and the future I threw away, all in a single moment.

Kinsley’s clothes are soaking wet, but she doesn’t let go. She holds me. Comforts me. Tells me everything will be okay.

But I don’t believe her.

Chapter Six

Madden

Bethanysidlesupbesideme, tucking herself into my chest as she flings an arm around my waist. Evan rolls his eyes at her obvious affection, as fed up with her constant hanging on for the last year as I am, but this time, I don’t join in. I’m too distracted to care.

The events from this afternoon run in a loop in my head. The recreation was too real. I used images taken from the scene that night to set everything up, but I never imagined they’d hit me as hard as they did.

I scrub a palm against my chest, willing the dull ache to dissipate.

Bethany nuzzles into me, pressing a featherlight kiss to my neck, and I almost snap, my hands itching to shove her away. We’re not together, but she seems to be pushing a little harder since Harper turned up.

“I heard something interesting in the girls’ dorm today,” she says, the tips of her fingers moving over my chest. I flick my gaze downward and cock a brow. “Harper Delaney had a meltdown of epic proportions in the showers.”

“Good.” Evan chortles, and I nod, agreeing with the sentiment, even if that fucking ache in my chest comes back tenfold. Itisgood. It’s what I want. I want her to suffer. “Hopefully she’ll fuck off back home, and we can get back to normal,” he says.

I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought you were enjoying this?”

“I am.” He clears his throat, his eyes darting over the lengthy hallway.

There’s something off about him. Has been since Harper showed up, but I can’t figure out what. I could be reading too much into it. After all, he was also in the car that night, tucked away in the backseat while a drunk Harper drove them straight into a tree … is he struggling with that more than he’s let on?

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, bro. ’Course,” he says, returning his attention to me. “It’s just harder than I thought it’d be, you know? Seeing her … reliving it all.”

I nod, slapping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a light squeeze. “I get it. But we agreed. She has to pay, right?” To my ears, it comes out more like I’m checking with him that we have to rather than convincing him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

---