Page 13 of The Afterthought

I feel sick. I hate him for what he did. One night, we were in bed confessing our love for each other while making a plan to leave this town, and the next, he left me. I thought I did something wrong. I cried over him for months. I tried to find another guy to swoon over, but nobody could ever live up to him. Despite what he did to me, he is the only guy I've ever let breach my walls to see the real me.

His gaze trails my way, and I catch sight of those beautiful blues that I used to get lost staring into. He doesn't see me. He looks right past me before turning his head and focusing on someone walking in front of him. I can't see exactly who it is from where I'm sitting. I tilt my head to the side, narrowing my eyes to watch as he trails the person with just enough distance to ensure that he won't be caught.

He turns the corner of the street at the end of town and disappears from my line of sight. I quickly gather up my things, toss my coffee in the trash, and chase after him. I'm not sure why I feel the need to confront him at this moment. After all these years of not seeing him, I can't help but follow him. It's been seven years, but what better time than now to rip off the band-aid and tell him he's a massive piece of shit for dumping me the way he did.

I turn the same corner he went around, but nobody's there. This street has a few closed businesses, and the end of it leads straight into the state park. My eyes trail around the small parking lot of the park to see which way he could have gone. There's nothing else out here except a path through a line of trees that leads into the woods.

A feeling in my gut tells me this is a bad idea, but I ignore it and walk down the path between the trees. My steps are quiet as my eyes dart around to take in my surroundings. This has to be the way he went, but there's nothing around. I stop in my tracks to listen for any kind of sound but hear nothing. What the fuck am I even doing out here?

There are a few vacant buildings scattered around the wooded area of the park. Tiny little one-story log cabins that I don't think were ever really lived in. I peer around a few of them, but nothing stands out. I spend the next few minutes searching for some kind of clue that he came this way, but come up empty-handed. Finally, I give up and decide I've put way too much effort into finding someone that I shouldn’t give a shit about, especially after what he did to me.

As I make my way back down the path, I lose my footing on a loose rock on the cobblestone walkway. My body flails forward, and I land on my hands and knees, scraping them off of the hard surface. Pain shoots through me while I try to assess the damage. This is so sloppy. When I try to stand, my ankle throbs, so I crawl to the side of the path near a tree.

There are small rocks in the bloody scrapes on my knees. I pull my sleeve down over my hand to try and wipe the debris off, wincing at the pain when I swipe over the cuts. My left hand has a pretty good slice in my palm, and I look down curiously as blood drips out of it. I stand and place a hand on the tree to try and steady myself.

My vision begins to blur again as the memories of a night long ago threaten to pull me in. Blood has been a trigger for me since that night, and I haven't felt safe since. Before I can stop it, the thoughts consume me, and I'm right back there with him.

The blade came down across my chest, cutting my shirt open and slicing me down the center of my body. I felt the warm blood almost instantly, pooling around the cut.

I tried my best to kick around and free myself from him as he held the knife above me, watching as the blood flowed freely from me. He laughed at my attempt to speak. His hand tightened further on my neck, threatening to completely cut off my airway.

"You can't report back to my wife if you're dead, you fucking bitch," he yelled as I felt the blade slice into my stomach this time. I was too worried about trying to breathe to focus on the pain of each cut. Over and over, he cut into the skin of my stomach and chest, marking me up. The wetness of the blood was all I could feel as the tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Time seemed to go on forever, an endless loop of suffering in hell.

I'm yanked from my memories in the blink of an eye when something pushes me roughly against a tree, face first. I try to push back when a hand wraps around my ponytail. My head is shoved into the bark with enough force to keep me from turning to look at my assailant. I grimace as the rough surface scrapes against my face.

A body fills the void behind me as someone presses into me, holding me in place. Based on the massive hard-on pressed into my back, I know it's a man. I try to breathe, remembering that staying calm might be my best way out of this mess. I just have to wait until his guard is down, and he will loosen his hold. A man is just a man at the end of the day, and there are countless ways to make them fall.

He leans into me, and I take in his scent—burnt leather with a hint of mint. The kind of mint that comes from those little chocolates. It's so familiar, but I can't explain why. I feel him inch down further until he is close enough to whisper in my ear. "You thought you were being sly, didn't you? Like a little shadow."

I swear I recognize that voice. I shake my head and open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but a hand covers it, silencing me. His nose trails along my neck like he's breathing me in before grinding himself further against my back and letting out a growl.

"This is my town. You shouldn't have been sticking your fucking nose in where it doesn't belong."

I push back against him to try and get him off of me, but it doesn't help. It's hard to get the right angle with the way he has me pinned up against the tree. He pulls the hand from my mouth and manages to grip both of my wrists, pinning them against my back.

A deep chuckle erupts from his chest. "Did you want to play, little shadow?"

"Get off of me!" I yell out, but the only response I receive is laughter. Fuck him. If he thinks I'm going to be meek, he's wrong. He got lucky and caught me off guard when I was lost in thought; that's all this is.

I catch sight of him for the first time from the corner of my eye, and nothing but pure rage flows through me. "Greyson! Get the fuck off of me!" I yell out, and he freezes.

He releases my hands and whips me around so that my back is now pinned against the tree, a look of shock painted across his face. "Ava?" he questions.

"Yes, you fucking asshole. Now get your hands off of me."

"What the hell did you do to your hair?" His eyes narrow.

I didn't start dyeing my hair this color until after I left. I needed a change, a new identity, and this became part of that. I don't owe him any kind of explanation, though. He's changed just as much as I have. His hair is still long on the top, but it's less styled now, as if he just lets it lie wherever he wants it to. His once bare face now has a shade of stubble around the entire lower half. Tattoos cover almost every part of his exposed arm, and I find myself wondering where else he has them. What do each of them mean? Do they even have a meaning? One in particular catches my eye, a flaming rose. A stark reminder of who he is now.

"You left me and joined a gang. That's where you had to go all those years ago. What a joke." I laugh right in his face like it's the most outrageous thing I've ever said out loud.

"Keep fucking laughing at me." His jaw tics.

"I spent years being upset over you, and you shut me out so you could run around with a bunch of dudes in a gang. It's funny."

His eyes narrow, and I catch the moment when the look in them changes from curiosity to pure hatred. He shoves me harder against the tree, and a whimper leaves my lips. This is not the same man I knew before. He would have never hurt me. Except, he did hurt me. He hurt me worse than any other person has throughout my entire life. It was like I was nothing to him, like I'm still nothing to him.

"You need to get the fuck out of Dune Valley. I thought I made it perfectly clear seven years ago that you aren't meant for this town. I was nice about it then, but I won't be as nice now," he seethes.

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