Page 27 of Antidote

I shake my head, my heart in my throat, and tears threatening to make their way out of my eyes. My lips purse and I whisper, “How could you?”

Tears trail down Ollie’s face, and he opens his mouth to say something but then snaps it shut when I get out of bed and speed walk to the side of the bed. I grab him by the front of his hospital gown and scream, “How fucking could you?!”

“I’m—” Ollie closes his eyes and says through trembling lips, “So sorry.”

He doesn’t look at me; he just stares down at his hands.

“Fuck you and your apologies, Oliver.” He cringes at the way I say his name. I know he has always hated it, and this time, I’m doing it to inflict pain. Because fuck him. He deserves all the pain in the world right now. I hope it brings him to his knees. I hope he finally finishes what he started today. “I hate you.”

Crying out, Oliver grabs onto my arms, tightening his grip on me the closer I bring him to my face. Our foreheads touch, and I rest mine against his. The urge to kiss him one last time is so strong, and I hate myself even more for it. “No, please.” Ollie whimpers, breaking me out of my thoughts. “You don’t mean it.”

“You’ve ruined—everything,” I growl, and my tears finally betray me, making a hot trail down my face. “How could you do this to me? To us?”

“I’m sorry,” Ollie whispers hoarsely. “I wish I could take it all back—I’m sorry!”

“Fuck.” I let go of his gown, my hands trembling as he falls back onto his pillow. “You.”

I debate walking away. In fact, I turn around as if I’m going to. At the last second however, I cock my fist back and hit him right in the eye. I hear a crunch of bone and watch as blood spills out of the broken skin, and he cries out. I momentarily stare down at my ring—our ring—and see the blood on it. My heart sinks for one moment, seeing how I’ve hurt him. But no, he deserved it. Still deserves it. So I pull my arm back and hit him again—this time his jaw.

It doesn’t make me feel better.

Instead, I feel worse.

Seeing as, at the end of the day, no amount of pain will bring her back. No amount of pain will prevent this. No amount of pain will turn back time and bring him back to me.

“I fucking hate you!” I scream, and it’s visceral. I feel it rattling my bones, my teeth, my brain. “You’re fucking dead to me!”

This time, I do walk away, mostly because if I don’t, I might just kill him. So I open the door and don’t stop walking until I see Malia. And then I fall to my knees and scream. She’s there to catch me as I fall, and maybe, just maybe, this means she’s the right person for me.

Because he sure as fuck wasn’t.

It was all a lie.

The love he said he had for me has crushed me.

And if that’s what it’s like to be in love?

I don’t want anything to do with it ever again.

20 YEARS OLD

The day is gloomy as we stand around Mom’s grave, having just buried her. It’s not a surprise that it hasn’t stopped raining since the day she died. No matter what I do, I can’t shake the anger flowing through my veins. Not even the sight of Oliver suffering through withdrawals.

I stand in front of her burial plot, contemplating how to move on from this. Not from her, but from this place. How the fuck do I leave her behind? She’s been my anchor all my life. My happy place, my safe space. That is, until him. He took all of that from her—from me—and then he went and took himself away from me, too. But it doesn’t matter anymore. She’s dead because of him, and no amount of affection I feel—or felt—toward him can change that.

I feel a shoulder brush against mine, and when I look to the side, I find Oliver. I immediately tense, wanting to be as far from him as possible. Can’t afford weakness right now, which is why I don’t want to hear him cry more than I already have. Although that wouldn’t be the worst part. No, the worst would be if he?—

“I’m sorry.” Did that. “I know you hate me, but I’m so fucking sorry. I know I can’t take this away, but I’m so fucking sorry, Hunt. I can’t do anything to make this better,” he cries out. His voice is hoarse, and a sob escapes him. “But I just want you to know I’m so fucking sorry.”

My heart squeezes like a vice in my chest, and I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “No.” I shake my head. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to,” he cries, turning toward me and cupping my face. For just a split second, I let him. I relish in the feeling of his skin against mine, the safety of his presence. Only it isn’t real. There’s nothing safe about him. “I can’t go on like this.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” I search his eyes, and all I see is a searing pain that cuts straight through my heart, splitting it in half. “You don’t get to die too.” I shake my head. “You deserve to live with this pain. For the rest of your days—you need to live with it.”

“I can’t,” he chokes out.

“Oh, yeah?” I laugh through the tears falling down my cheeks. I lick the salt from my lips and grab the back of his head, pulling him into me until our foreheads meet. There’s nothing sweet about the gesture. No, I’m using him as an anchor right now. An anchor to my rage, to my fucking hate. I’m using him so I don’t lose control of myself. “I bet my pain is worse, Oliver.” He flinches and gasps. “Because the day I lost her…” My voice cracks. “I lost you too.”

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