Page 67 of Soul of a Psycho

I shake the leaves from my discarded cloak and drape it over her shoulders before stepping back. Bile is already rising in my throat, and I don’t want to be anywhere near her when the inevitable heaving starts.

Looking back, I should have shut up then. There were a lot of incidents that happened after, but this one was the catalyst, and I often wonder if maybe I had just kept my mouth shut, things could have played out differently.

Do you have a thing for me, Bentley?I said.You seem really interested in what I’m doing with my dick.

Connor and Henry howled with laughter, and like a dumbass, I continued.

It’s okay, buddy.I patted Bentley on the chest.You can come out of the closet.

Bentley shoved me so hard that my books fell, and I had to grip the counter to stop from landing on my ass.

What the fuck?I shot him an incredulous look.

You need to shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you.

His words were so cliche. The whole tough guy act was something my mom and I had made fun of in the movies we would watch together. But it wasn’t a movie. And I shouldn’t have laughed.

Okay, Bentley. Don’t pop a blood vessel.I said, expecting that to be the end of it.

But then his fist connected with my cheek bone, smattering the tissue beneath my skin and causing the framework of my face to shoot an ache so intense into my skull that my vision spotted.

“I had never been hit before,” I explain, pulling on my shirt. “I wasn’t ready for it.”

Sky stands and comes toward me, but I put a hand up, stopping her. She doesn’t know it gets worse.

Faintly, I could hear Connor and Henry whoop, but whatever Bentley was saying sounded like another language. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t make sense of what had just happened, what was currently still happening, as another blow hit the same spot.

I held my ground, gripping the sink in support, my legs wobbly, my vision darkening, for two more punches until I felt my knees hit the tiles. I slumped down in slow motion, still aware of their shoes circling around me. But my sight was down to a pinprick, and my ears were ringing. I knew I was going to black out, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“I remember thinking that they would realize that they had gone too far. That they would panic and help me up. But like I said, I was fucking naive.” I say through a rage so vicious it makes my stomach contract.

My face was on the dirty floor, the tiles seeping in and out of my vision. The tether between consciousness and unconsciousness is a blurry place, so I didn’t hear the first zipper—just felt the hot liquid on my back. It wasn’t until thethird zipper that the yellow began to drip and pool around me. The last thing I remember was one of their shoes shifting and splashing it onto my face.

I can still feel it on my skin, and I’m half convinced my shirt is sticking to me with their piss as I stare into the forest. I wish I could go back to that dark place of oblivion right now. It would be better than feeling Sky’s eyes burn into my back while I brace my hand against a tree and throw up.

Chapter Forty-Five

Sky

I’ve been clutching the cloak for dear life, but now it’s a hindrance, pulling me back as I try to rush to Cade. I let it fall and come to his side, putting my hand on his back.

There’s nothing I can say. There are no words. I can’t even cry because of the anger crackling inside of me. This was done to him. He was made into… This.

He wretches, grasping his stomach, as nothing comes out. The tendons in his arms are taut, and I so rarely get to see them that for a moment I’m captured by them—by all the strength he’s built to protect himself. He’s not some sociopath that can’t control his murderous urges. He’s an open wound that’s festered so badly that it’s mutated and is attacking anyone and anything. A hate so great that it is now infecting me.

The injustice… I’ve never even felt such fuming injustice. Not even when I had to let Chase go free. This goes beyond outrage. Beyond vehemence. I’m bloodthirsty. I’m imagining Bentley’s flesh melting off, and wishing I hadn’t stopped it from happening. It makes me so sick to my stomach that I almost want to throw up too. But I can’t. I can’t give in to this. I have to be strong for him.

“It’s okay,” I whisper and rub his back, trying to keep my voice steady. The fabric is too warm though, his skin too hotbeneath. He’s burning up because of this, and it only makes me ache more for him.

“It’s not,” he chokes and spins on me, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

The stoicism, maybe the numbness, that he composed himself with during his admission is gone, and the once dried up tears have sprang back into his eyes.

“I laid on that floor for hours. Fucking hours!” his voice has turned hoarse, as if lined with razor blades. “No one helped me. No one checked to make sure I was alive.” He slams his fist into his chest, and I back up despite myself. “They didn’t even alert anyone.” He sobs, and the sound breaks the dam in my eyes. “I was a secret sliding around the underbelly of Hillcrest for hours. Everyone who came into that bathroom either callously skirted around my body or laughed and snapped pictures.”

“I…” I want to say how sorry I am, to say how I wished I was there. But nothing I say can fix the apocalypse that ravaged him, that’s ravaging me now. It’s tearing me apart.

“Those pictures went round and round while I was unconscious,” he continues, head craning to the side in agony as he clenches his fists. “And you want to know what I did when I woke up? When I stepped out into the hallway with their ice cold piss soaking me from head to toe?”

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