Page 7 of Ruthless God

She’s full of shit and she knows it.

“I don’t believe you.”

She sits up forward, gripping the rail of the bed. “You’re my best friend. Why would I lie to you?”

“So you won’t take responsibility for your actions. I knew you were reckless, but I didn’t expect you to do this stupid shit. Don’t fucking talk to me anymore, not until the wedding.”

Thick tears rush down her cheeks like a hose.

My chest aches as if a gigantic hole is in there.

I would have done anything for her.Anything.But she betrayed me and what makes it even worse, she lied to my damn face. I don’t want to be anywhere near her.

“I was drugged. That’s the only explanation. We went to another pa—”

I finally lose my cool, punch the door, and my fist throbs. I’m too pumped up on adrenaline to recognize the pain traveling up my arm. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Snow, please. I’m sorry.”

Without another word, I walk out of the room as she jumps out of the bed, following me down the hallway. She continues to follow me to the parking lot, but I get into my car before strapping the seat belt over my body. I watch her bang on the window, screaming my name. I put the car in drive, leaving her in the parking lot.

Three Months Later…

FIRST SEMESTER

Lyrical

Islice the razor across the delicate flesh of my arm, watching the bright red blood drip onto the bathroom sink. The pain feels like a high I don’t want to let go of, and my adrenaline is spiked, so I make a few more cuts. Closing my eyes, I try to get rid of the empty hole in my chest.

The one mistake I made that changed my life forever was killing my best friend in the car accident three months ago. Every day I live with the guilt of getting behind the wheel, because if not, Bailey would have been alive. I’ve done dumb shit before, but I’ve never driven high. I may not be the most responsible person in the world, but I have common sense.

I can’t bring myself to look at the girl in the mirror because of the shame I feel, so instead I slide on my long-sleeve shirt, ignoring the throbbing wounds, and I wiggle on my leggings. Then I head to my bedroom.

The only thing I remembered about the car accident is that I blacked out, woke up in a hospital bed, and was told Bailey didn’t survive.

I remember the pain on Snow’s face as he informed me that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. It hurt more than the headache I experienced right after the accident. It left a gigantic hole in my chest that will never be filled. It’s been three months since the accident. This is the longest we have ever gone without speaking to each other. I didn’t even see him at the funeral.

Shaking my head, I tell myself I’m going to take it one day at a time. Plus, I have to plan for my wedding right after college. Which I’m not looking forward to.

With my book bag strap over my shoulder, I stride to the living room. I live in an apartment on campus. Tossing my bag onto the wooden floor, I sit on the beige couch, glancing around the spacious room. The flames in the fireplace dance, making the room warm and cozy. I glance out the window, staring at the clear ocean. I wish my emotions were as calm as the sea.

North Haven is where most of the wealthy people in the United States reside when they want to get away from the big city life, and NHU is where the richest people on the planet send their children for the best education. The college tops any Ivy League in America.

My roommate, Lilac, strolls inside, her blue dress hugging her small frame, and her lavender hair pinned up in a ponytail making her light brown skin glow. She looks like a fairytale princess; her beauty as rare as a gem. She’s the only person I’ve gotten close to since the car accident.

She knows the pain I feel, of me losing Bailey, and I can tell her my issues without receiving any judgment. She’s truly down-to-earth and a good friend.

Her gray eyes narrow on me and her lips thin, before she asks, “Are you okay?”

I feel fine most days, but today I feel like shit. According to the police report, Bailey died on impact before the car engulfedin flames. My mother and father felt bad, but they never blamed me for the accident, though they did force me to attend a rehab center and seek grief counseling during the summer.

I shrug, biting the inside of my cheek.

She wraps her arms around my waist, squeezing me tight, and I return the hug as her fruity scent invades my nostrils.

Stroking my back, she says, “It’s going to get better. I don’t know how it feels to lose a best friend, but I do know if you need someone to speak to, then I’m all ears.”

She means well, but her words don’t do anything to help soothe the ache in my chest, and I try so hard to hold back the tears, swallowing the lump in my throat.

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