Page 100 of Diem

“Fuck you. You know, I’ve never fucked her,” I spit, eyeing the guy who I used to think was the closest thing to family I had.

“Hey,” Hailey says, and I point my finger at Ollie. “Did you put her up to this shit? Is this how it’s going down?”

Ollie merely stares while I process the notion that he’s using our own tactics against me. Diabolical fucking shit.

Since I can’t be held responsible for my actions, I spin away from him and growl to Hailey, “You know I’ve never put my dick in any of your holes. And this one can tell you why he can’t.”

“D,” Ollie growls and I turn back with a snarl as he says, “Stay away from her.”

“Fuck you,” I spit but he steps into me and pushes me back. “No, fuck you. You keep your dirty fucking hands off my goddamn sister.”

His words penetrate the haze in my brain, and I falter, stepping back. Dirty? My bro thinks I’m dirty. I’ve gotten these very hands dirty so his could remain pristine. I’ve…whatever.

Raising my eyes to his dead as fuck stare, I say quietly, “I don’t know you but you’re not my brother. You want me to stay away from Maeve, done. But don’t come fucking crying to me when you need something. Because these dirty fucking hands will never help you again.”

With that I stalk off, searching for Matt because I have a few things to get off my chest.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Maeve

After Matt dropped me off, I wandered the neighborhood for hours. Until the pain in my feet superseded the ache in my soul. My actions with Matt did nothing but create a greater void that I didn’t know how to fill and sitting before the toilet, I stared at the blood swirling down the drain, wanting to do it again and again until whatever poison that lurked inside of me disappeared.

It was foolish, those thoughts but I couldn’t escape them and with a sob, I threw the razor resting in my palm across the room.

I just wanted a little bit of peace but using that fucking razor wouldn’t take the ache away.

Now, I’m staring at my dad across the breakfast table. His lips are moving but I don’t hear a damn thing until he slams his hand against the wood and says, “Keys.”

Blinking, I glance at Mom but she’s staring at Dad as though he’s grown two heads. Still, I’m too tired to fight and I plop the keys on the table before standing to catch the bus.

“You’ll ride with me,” he says, and I collapse to the couch to wait.

After the world’s most awkward ride in which Dad tried to engage me and I completely ignored him, he pulls into his parking space and turns to me with a sigh. “You’ll understand someday Mae. When you have children of your own.”

With my hand on the knob, I stare into the distance and mutter, “I’ll never have kids.”

Dad responds but I have no idea what he says as I stalk away, only to slow when Matt calls my name. His soft smile pinches at my chest but I manage a small one in return. Although I regret what happened in that car with every fiber of my being, he didn’t have to help me escape the worst moment of my life and I’m grateful.

“Hey,” he says, touching my hair. I shiver under the motion, silently admitting that I made the situation worse because now I have to break his fucking heart. A reminder to keep my shit close. I’m an island, and no one needs to be near my rocky shores.

Behind me, the sharp report of a door closing brings me around. Diem’s eyes immediately lock on mine when he exits the front passenger seat of Ramsay’s SUV.

Greedily, I take in his dark features and pythons for arms. He’s fire, or he was, blazing through this world with meaty fists and a penchant for violence.

Now, his stare is muted, blank and the bored shell he pulled up for me is almost preferable. It’s fucked up shit when I miss the cold Diem over this version who rivals Ollie in his I-give-no-fucks-intensity.

Whatever, not my business. He doesn’t care? He hates me? Just as well, I hate him too. I’ve fought back the urge to cut and failed too many times because of his behavior. I craved him, and the beauty of his need, wrapped in a shiny fuck hot bow and smoldering beneath the surface.

Diem, for all his posturing, feels deeply, and it showed in the expressiveness of his eyes, his need to use his fists and how he fucks with abandon. Or at least, it did.

Next Oliver exits. He’s dressed in his normal attire of khakis and button down, ever the image of a prim college professor, but I know what he hides behind the facade, a void where real emotion should be.

That’s what he excels at, looking through you, because you don’t fucking matter. With him, I’m not sure anything does, except maybe his friends.

Ramsay rounds the vehicle, completing the fucked-up trio and they all start toward me grimly, the Sinners. The so-called rulers of this fucking nightmare disguised as a school.

I guess the band is back together again. Lucky me.

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