Page 42 of Pretty Little Lies

I gasp outwardly as Matteo De Leon stands outside my classroom, chewing obnoxiously on grape gum like he always used to do, and smiling at me with that arrogant bullshit look.

The navy-blue tee and blue jeans make him look like he belongs here and that’s probably what he’s good at now, blending in because he never fit in before.

Stepping out of my room, I take a right to head down the hallway and toward the nearest exit. The hairs on the back of my next warn me of his steps, the heavy thudding of his boots, because he’s always equipped to stomp on someone.

Like he did to me once.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m not gonna stop following you,” he coos as he does just that.

I inhale, demanding my body to fall back into its normal state as I yank my cell phone from my back pocket. It’s been years, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

I’m not that girl anymore.

He has no power over me.

I’m not his bitch.

Pulling up Levi’s text thread, I shoot him off a message that I know is cryptic as fuck, but I can’t type a full sentence.

BAY: Matteo. School. Help me.

Passing students running to their next class, I heave my textbooks deeper into my chest, clutching the ends tightly to keep myself from having a mini freakout. The dull edges do nothing to give me something else to focus on. It doesn’t take away the unspeakable things he did. The way Matteo treated me like a queen one minute, then a gutter slut the next.

I was cherished and then abused to the point where taking a shitload of Paisley’s pills was a constant thought of mine. I was too much of a pussy to cut myself. I was going to take the easy, less painful way out of this world because I had already suffered enough at Matteo’s hands, and I didn’t want to endure it anymore.

Finally making it outside, the fresh air immediately greets my lungs, but that’s only because I can’t get my breathing under control.

You’re always going to be mine, Astor. It doesn’t matter how far you run. How many times you send Wallace after me. I’ll get your ass again one day, you little cunt.

I’m suddenly spun around by my bicep, coming face to face again with the demon from my past. His bronze skin and murky brown eyes cause so many flashbacks sprinting through my head that it almost causes a sob to leave my lips.

I’m stronger than this.

But Matteo is this pain point of mine that I never could get over. I swear, I thought several times that he was going to kill me and dump me somewhere Levi and Dad would never find me.

My whole body seizes in fear as Matteo enters my personal bubble. However, my mouth seemed to have gained some balls over the years.

“What the fuck do you want?” I snap, attempting to shove back my unease and the way my body won’t move.

My God, I’m already exhausted with the way he’s making me feel. That the young teenage girl I used to be comes ramping back up again like she never died. All the self-doubt, the worthlessness, simmers in my chest, and it’s hard to cast out once she’s back.

Matteo perks a brow at my attitude, but surprisingly doesn’t address it. “Is that any way to greet me when?—”

“Yes. Especially when you sprayed lead at me. Did you think you were gonna get a hug?”

“Those bullets weren’t directed at you.”

Yeah, but you didn’t stop them to keep me out of danger if they had.

“I’m not here for a fight,” he tacks on. “I heard about what happened with you and Levi.” I only stare at him. His chestnut hair spiked up gives him a Jersey boy persona.

I fucking hate it.

The only thing he doesn’t sport anymore is the gaudy diamond earrings, but the gold chains he’s currently got wrapped around his neck, and I wish he’d fucking choke on them.

“And?”

“And we both know what that means.” I quirk a brow because, no, I don’t. This motherfucker can jump off the highest cliff, and I’ll watch that shit.

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