Page 136 of Priest and his Anarchist

“Let me guess. You get her to pretend one is the other,” she gasps, and I swear to fucking god I’m going to strangle her. “You’re a cuckhold and you guys role-play?”

“I’m gonna kill you. I’m done.”

Her laughter echoes through the night at the very same time that I hear the click of a barrel. I freeze, my hand flying out to her arm as I bury her into my chest.

Stella isn’t a stupid girl. A crazy, fucked-up maniac, maybe, but not stupid. She’s more ride or die and less scream and run. She’d face off to your enemies and kill them before you even had time to realize you had a beef. That’s the type of girl Stella is, which is why it’s not at all surprising that she instantly submits.

The girls of the EKC know when to be calm, quiet, strong, caring, nurturing, savage, and cruel. That’s what makes them who they are, and that doesn’t come from any weird training. The girls have known how to do this since they were born. Maybe it has to do with some of the games we had played as kids, or maybe it’s in our DNA, but whatever it is, we’re all the same. Nota single difference to the other when it comes to the foundational values we share.

She slips from my grip, tripping backward in a small screech, but not loud enough to raise alarm. Because that’s typical of her. When she needs to use her voice, she fucking doesn’t.

Her shirt slips through my grip at the last minute, and I drop to my knees, watching as she falls…down…down….

Chapter Thirty-Two

luna

Darkness lurks in every corner. I barely want to move since every time I do, the imbalance of the world tilts. Until I feel him.

The whisper of his words like cyanide at my ear.

The way his hands take advantage of the darkness, exploring my body, the anger in my stomach spreading through my body the further time goes on.

I’m here.

In this house.

Where there’s a sofa.

And a man.

And her. Her. Him.

It ends every time with me waking here. Alone. The scream of his name leaving scratch marks in my throat. The familiar taste of silver. How stupid I’ve been to be sucked back into the vortex of nothingness.

But I’m still here.

Alone.

Where am I? Why does everything feel so desolate. It’s isolating. It’s not finding the will to live but knowing people love me enough for me to want to stay alive.

I don’t want to be here. I’ve lost track of the days. They’re all smoke and mirrors, only the mirrors don’t exist, and I’m pretty sure…everyone here is mad.

I rub the base of my palms over my eyes, desperate to see something, anything.

Every breath is a struggle, shallow and slow. It starts by existing around you, until darkness poisons your blood. Eating you from the inside.

I’ve lost my mind.

I don’t know I’m falling until the side of my face collides with the mattress. I don’t know what it looks like. I don’t know if there are covers. I don’t care.

I’ve fallen into complete and utter Madness. My attempts of trying to figure out what was the last thing I remember before being here.

River. She pulled me out of the car and told me to trust her—we ran. But…we didn’t get far. Or did we?

The memories slip in the palm of my hand the harder I try to force myself to remember. Girls always want the asshole with no emotion. With the illusion of being unattainable and nonchalant, they always want to be the exception.

Until you know what it’s like to be loved by them, or worse, hated. Despised. A placeholder until he finally gets the girl he wants.

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