Page 57 of The Truths We Burn

Her laughter resonates, biting into my skin like close-range bullets. One after the other, I take hit after hit until I look like Swiss cheese.

Left empty and full of holes all over again.

“I just can’t believe you actually fell for it.” She finishes her giggling, wiping tears of joy from underneath her eyes.

Fresh hatred pumps into my veins like adrenaline, an appetite for retaliation building. I thought my resentful spirit had dwindled since being around her, and this only throws meat at the starving beasts inside of me.

She’s a liar. A manipulative bitch. A traitor.

The enemy.

There’s no one I hate more than her right now, and I want her to pay.

I want her to fucking hurt the way I’d allowed myself to get hurt.

I suck on my bottom lip, grinning from the animosity filling my body, overflowing in me. “Just know when you’re all alone at the end of this because you’ve used everyone around you that you did this to your fucking self. No one pities the bitch with no heart.”

She scoffs, turning away from me to head towards the stage. “I don’t need pity, pyro. Just like I don’t need this.”

“You’ve been playing this game so long, Sage, you don’t know if you’re playing it or it’s playing you,” I call to her only for her to glance over her shoulder and smile.

“Don’t be upset that you’re the one who ended up being played this time, Van Doren. I’m sure you’ll get over it. After all, tomorrow the birds will sing.”

I let her words soak into my skin. I let them feed my hatred for her, even if the only real person to blame is myself.

She’ll get what’s coming to her. I’ll make sure of that.

I tear out of the school, attempting to rip the doors off the hinges as I do. I know exactly what I’m going to do, but first, there’s something I need taken care of.

I go to the one person who would do as I asked without requiring answers.

Someone who craves the kind of demented torment I need in this moment.

Punches to the gut from Alistair and coarse Bible verses dipped in malice from my father aren’t going to curb my hankering for pain today. It won’t be enough.

I need some to extract this poison.

Now.

With my body shaking with so much self-hatred, I stumble up the stone steps to the front door. The gaunt knocker glares at me as I bang my fist on it, urgency in my movements.

My brain is shouting, screaming, and raging at the useless fucking organ in my chest.

It should have stayed dead. It should not have started beating again after everything it had been through. It knew better—it saw how the world was, and yet it expected Sage to be different.

For her to not be a liar.

It started pumping black sludge through the ducts when she dug her nails into me, the only liquid left filling my veins, fighting to work. It fought to believe it could once again beat normally, transport real blood instead of toxic fluid.

The heavy door groans as it opens, sunlight pouring into the darkened house. His black Oxfords click across the floor as he leans against the frame, looking at me with dull eyes.

He has a voice that’s full of life, sarcastic wit, intelligent banter, and even some humor, yet his eyes let you know it’s all an act.

Inside, he’s twisted. He couldn’t care less.

Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he physically can’t care about others. Not the way normal people do.

He’s loyal, he understands me, but he doesn’t care.

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