Page 98 of Rebel

She’s the fucking reason I breathe.

It’s all a lie.

I gave her everything, all my bitter, filthy past, and prayed she wouldn’t break my heart. I let her in so deep that even now, I want to go back and make sure she’s okay, and that pisses me off even more.

She did it for her sister, for truth and justice.

I hate that I even understand that, but she did it all the wrong way. She didn’t need to hurt us the way she did. If she had just asked, we would have told her everything, but she didn’t. She kept secrets. She lied. She used us.

I hope it was worth it for her, because I sure as shit know it wasn’t for us.

There’s nothing left of Dead Ringers, not now. We are cursed, just like Kolton once said—cursed to always fail right before we head on stage. Maybe Beck was right to destroy us. We’ve done some terrible things in the name of fame. We try to be good people, but it doesn’t always work.

I can’t believe she slept with me, all the while wondering if I helped kill her sister.

Who does that?

I couldn’t touch her without being obsessed, without falling in love, yet to her, it was just an act. How much of it was a lie? When she smiled at me? When she held me in her arms? When she comforted me?

Was it all a lie?

Who is Beck Danvers?

Why do I care?

I tell myself I don’t as I kick the rocks. My feet led me here. I stand before the memorial for her sister. We were really good friends, and she was like a younger sister to me. I didn’t even know how much she was struggling, and when she . . . When we found out what she had done, it destroyed me.

It broke a small part of me and something within all of us.

We blamed ourselves. How didn’t we notice? Were we truly so blinded by our need to get to the top? We all ended up in therapy over it, fucked up beyond belief.

I guess the sisters have that in common.

Crouching down, I brush off the dead leaves and smile sadly. “I met your sister. You were right. She is something.” I laugh bitterly. “You always said we would get along. I guess I should have trusted your instincts. I love her. I fucking love her even now, even as I feel my heart breaking. She’s everything you said and more, and I wish you were here, but the selfish part of me knows she wouldn’t be if you were, and I hate myself for that.”

Swallowing, I sit heavily on the wet pavement and drape my arms over myself. “Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask the question I’ve always wanted the answer to, knowing she can’t reply. “Why didn’t you tell us you were struggling? We would have helped. We were your bandmates. We were your friends.”

Silence is my only answer, just like it always will be because people do things we can’t understand.

First her.

Now Beck.

I fucking hate them both right now.

KOLTON

I don’t like being alone. It gives memories time to claw at me, and as raw and exposed as I feel right now, it’s giving them the darkness they need to take root and resurface.

Beck was good at pushing them back and helping me through them, but I can’t go back right now. I can’t look at her. It hurts too much, knowing she lied to me. I told her everything, I let her know all of my deepest, darkest secrets, ones I didn’t even want to admit to myself, and all the while, she was lying to me.

How could she touch me like that? How could she help me through it all, defend me, and go to jail for me? Was it really such a lie? If so, then she should be an actress, not a singer, because I couldn’t fake that kind of love. I couldn’t fake the way I feel for her, not like she has for us.

When I kissed her, I meant it.

She is the only person I let get close—close enough to touch and be vulnerable with. Now, knowing she could use that against us and that she was going to tell the world what happened to me . . . I swallow the bile in my throat.

How could she?

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