Page 183 of Scrimmage

The rage I felt was something I've only felt one other time in my life. Ashland made me feel a lot of things, but true rage was never one of them. Then I confronted her about it. Two angry assholes arguing is never going to go well, especially with someone like me or someone like her. The stuff I said was so hateful, but she fucking used me in the worst way possible.

When I asked her to be my girlfriend, I thought there was a possibility she would flirt. Not this.I’mthe other man, and he clearly knows about me. I said she’s not a good person, and I don’t even believe it. Ashland might be a brat and a bitch, but I’ve seen the way she cares about people in her strange way. She’d snap herself in half if it meant her guts would help Penny. The way she has accepted Alexi into her life has done him wonders. She even made me think she cared about me. Maybe she believed it, too.

My words were meant to hurt, but Ashland’s words? They were true. When she started talking about evil I actually felt afraid. There was an air about her that terrified me. It’s not a part of her I’ve ever seen. It was like there’s a demon that has just been waiting to wake up. It’s not that I’ve ever thought of her as innocent, but it was so different. She loves evil. So what does that say about me? It confirms everything I’ve always secretly thought about myself. I’m a fake. I’m a fraud. I’m just like my real father, and I’ve been pretending this entire time that it’s not true.

I let her in. I let her see those dark parts of me, and she never even questioned it because she’s fucked up. The red flags were all there. I ignored them as if I’m some guy making a jokes about how I like toxic bitches. It took one alternative slut to bring me to my knees. My slut. No, not mine. Damien’s. Whoever he is. I still don’t have a real answer, but I’ve seen his eyes enough times to know that she thinks about him. Nothing in those creepy eyes gave me a good feeling, but maybe it’s because deep down there is shame in her drawings. She's ashamed of what she's been up to.

I kind of wish I still had the sketchbook so I could torture myself.

It’s not that I thought the fight would end well. All of this shit we said to each other hurt, but that was nothing compared to the feeling I got when Ashland said our fucking safe words. That's the worst feeling in the world. Now I know why she picked them. They were reserved for someone else.

I call Alexi on my way home.

“Yo, what’s up,” he yawns.

“Come over and drink.”

“Uh, aren’t you with Ashland?”

“Not anymore,” I grit out.

It’s like Alexi already knows the double meaning in those words because all he says is that he’ll be right over. He shows up with a case of beer, and I drink. I smash three of them in ten minutes before my phone starts ringing. When I glance at the caller ID, the photo I took of Ashland as she painted the sky in the warehouse flashes on the screen. She hadn’t even noticed. Ashland looks gorgeous when she’s not paying attention, but it hurts to fucking see it under ‘My Slut’. I silence it.

“Ashland?” Alexi asks.

“Fuck her,” I snort.

“What happened?”

I crack open another. “We ended it.”

“Obviously. You’re four beers in, and I haven’t even halfway finished my first one. I mean, what happened? It kind of seemed like you two were…”

“Were what?” I demand.

“Good for each other,” he finishes.

I laugh. “Good for each other? You’re fucking blind. She’s toxic.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Yeah, well, you have no idea.” My phone buzzes with a voicemail.

“You should listen to that.” Alexi takes a sip. “Ashland doesn’t apologize, and at the very least I’d like to hear it once in my life.”

I slide the phone over to him. “You think she’d apologize? It’s probably so she can hurl more insults. Have at it. I don’t want to hear that shit. Block her after.”

He puts it up to his ear and leans against the counter. Alexi jumps, almost out of his skin, and his eyes widen. He pulls the phone away to look at it, then puts it back to his ear.

“That shocking, huh?”

He looks at me, and all of the color has drained from his face.

“Koda.” There’s a sense of desperation to his voice. The phone is clutched in his hand. “Koda, I don’t think this…I don’t think she was trying to call you.”

“What? Is it her fucking someone already?” I scoff.

“She’s…” He swallows. “She’s...”

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