Page 9 of Kortlek

He blinks, confused.

“Because if I say one bad thing about you to Arlo, he’ll kick my ass, that’s why.’’

I hum, ignoring the ache in my chest. It feels like someone’s stabbing a million tiny needles into my heart repeatedly. “Well, then, if I’m such a nuisance, I’ll put you out of your misery and spare you of being in my company any longer.’’

He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he can. I grip his shoulder where the wound is, pressing my fingers into it through the gauze and shirt, the crimson color slowly tarnishing the latex gloves. If he can spot a single emotion on my face, it’s hatred. I’ll never let him see me hurt, so hatred it is. Slowly, I get on my tiptoes, whispering in his ear.

“And the next time you think you’re someone important enough to speak to me like I’m some sort of pest that you cannot get rid of, I’ll put you in your fucking place, Cove. You’re Arlo’s friend, and I’m a kind person, but even my kindness has its limits. Do not ever forget who the fuck you’re talking to. I’m not one of the girls you have flings with; you can’t treat me like I’m below you.’’

I distance myself from him, giving his shoulder one last rough squeeze before removing my hand and brushing past him, leaving the locker room, slamming the door behind him.

The moment I’m out of the basement, I take in a deep breath and let a single tear fall.

It’s half from being hurt by his words, half because I let him get a rise out of me. It’s the most humiliating moment in my life, and it will not happen again. Not because of Cove or any man.

He made his stance clear. I’m not that desperate for his attention to beg him. If he doesn’t want to be in my company, he doesn’t have to be, and he’ll never have the privilege of being again. My hands clench as I walk to my car, determined to never speak to him again.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself, yet the tears don’t stop.

How pathetic of me.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next couple of days pass in a blur. I’m busy helping Mom sort out some weapons in the basement, cleaning them, and making sure they’re all ready to go when necessary. She noticed immediately that I wasn’t as talkative as usual and that I’d been keeping to myself, though she didn’t voice out her concerns.

She’s giving me space, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that.

From what Blair has told me, Jackson, surprisingly, is still breathing, though barely. Arlo did put him in a hospital wing, and as of right now, it’s uncertain what the future holds for him. His face was smashed beyond recognition, and Arlo didn’t stop just at ruining his face — he broke both his arms and legs for good measure.

It’s a little overboard in my opinion, but then again, who am I to judge? I kill people for a living.

With a deep breath, I enter the living room, tossing my car keys onto the small counter. I’m not even sure why I came back to Mom and Dad’s house. I’ve been living on my own for the past six months in an apartment they bought for me ages ago. Yet, today, I find myself going back home.

Since I’ve been helping mom with the weapons over the past few days, coming back feels nostalgic. I’m not sure if it’s because my feelings are still hurt over what Cove said to me, or if I’m just in a mood, but I want to be closer to Mom and Dad.

It’s lunchtime, and I can hear them talking in the kitchen. I kick my shoes off, toss on a pair of slippers, and make my way toward them. They are at the stove, cooking together and talking. Blair and Arlo are setting up the table. Once they spot me, all four of them turn their attention to me.

Mom drops the wooden spoon she was stirring the pot with, letting it fall to the floor. Dad blinks, as if he’s trying to process what he’s seeing. Blair and Arlo, on the other hand, seem more… baffled, almost shocked at the sight.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?”

Mom’s words ring in my ears, and although the tone might sound accusatory, I know she’s just surprised to see such a drastic change. My hair was always in my natural shade, a deep brown, the same as Mom’s. Although it was never as long as Blair’s, it reached just below my chest.

I decided to change it. Yes, some of it does have to do with the fact that I’m still bitter over Cove’s words, but switching it up did help with my confidence a lot. I cut it, and now it lands just below my shoulders. I dyed it, too. The front pieces and the bottom section of my hair were bleached until we reached the white shade, the same as my brother. The rest of my hair is pitch black, and I happen to like how it looks on me.

“It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Yes! Absolutely,’’ Blair offers her signature smile, approaching me and inspecting the new hairstyle close up. She starts touching, lifting, and gazing through the strands. “It definitely suits you. Makes your eyes stand out.’’

I smile, then glance at my parents.

Dad sighs. “Figures. Your brother started bleaching his hair, and you jumped on the wagon. What’s next? Getting your entire body tattooed like him?’’

I shake my head, walking over to Dad and giving him a tight hug. “Nope. I’m terrified of needles.’’

He laughs, resting his chin on the top of my head as he hugs me back. “Thank God. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’d be able to deal with two delinquents in the house.’’

Mom scoffs behind him, hitting the back of his head with a kitchen towel. “Don’t listen to him. If anything, he’d encourage your delinquent behavior. Now, help set the table.’’

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