Page 133 of The Catalyst

I got a kick out of it for the longest time, knowing I both scared and pissed her off.

Everyone is scared of the terrible Oliver Doyle. I’m the town psychopath, and everyone knows it.

I’m an impenetrable shield.

Nothing.

Bothers.

Me.

Nothing except Beth, my crazy girl. She’s just as unhinged as I am, but she masks it so the world doesn’t see it. I crave to unleash it, but I can’t.

She’s not my caged bird to set free or my lion to tame. She’s with Nigel, and we both know it. It’s a waiting game, but the past two months have fucking killed me. I can’t handle having to sit by and watch her be with him, knowing what he did to her, knowing that this isn’t what she wants for herself. I fuckingburnfor her, inside and out.

That’s why tonight has to be the end. I got to have her one last time and pretend it was just us, pretend that I could keep her.

It was fucking breathtaking. I could burrow myself in her flesh and never leave for those hours I had her in my bed. And I did. I took, and she gave.

I repented. I prayed. I sinned.

She was the church, and I was the poor sinner begging for her salvation.

Nigel fucked up by letting me have her past the first time because now it will be stuck with me, thinking of her naked every single time she walks into the room, imagining her cunt wrapped around my cock, fantasizing about those full lips sucking me down her throat while she stares up at me like her eyes sing a siren song.

I’ll always be conjuring her up in my mind in a million different sexual situations, and he’ll know just from the way I stare at her. I know he knows. I may not say it or make a move, but he’ll know how bad I want her.

I watch through the window as he looks to be yelling and she stands there impassive, a wall erected between them.

This whole thing is tearing me apart, and I hate it. And I hate her for making me crave her like my next shot of blow. Like a fucking drug-induced coma full of immoral sexual fantasies. And I hate myself for walking into this mess blindly.

CHAPTER 53

BETH

“Are you feeling alright?” Judy asks as we sit in the living room at the Bastard house, and I pull the bottle of Pepto Bismol out of my bag. I pop off the lid as I slowly nod.

“Yeah. I’ve just been dealing with some stomach issues. I think it might be the stress of my mom coming home. Nigel has been adamant that he doesn’t want me moving back in with my mom, which puts me on edge. She’ll get out of rehab in two weeks and she’ll want me to move back in,” I explain before taking a sip straight from the bottle. I’ve been having to do this once every couple of hours for days, and I’m getting sick of it. I’m not ill, but my stomach is miserable.

“Are you sure that’s it?” she asks timidly, avoiding my eyes.

“What do you mean? What else could it be?”

“I mean, maybe…” she trails off, her eyes falling to my stomach for a bit longer than is comfortable.

It clicks in my head what she is referring to without outright saying it. The walls are very thin in this house, and these men gossip just as bad as a couple of biddies.

“Ohhh. No, that’s very doubtful. I just had my period last week, and I haven’t puked. It’s just indigestion. I’ll feel better tomorrow. Promise.”

Even as I say the words, I gnaw on my tongue. There is no way I’m pregnant, but I know it’s not too far off. That’s something that scares the fuck out of me. I love Nigel…I really do, but I don’t want to have a baby with him. Bringing a baby into this would be an accident waiting to happen.

It is more than indigestion, though. I’ve had the worst headache in history. I’m ready to claw my eyes out if it doesn’t stop.

Judy presses her hand to mine, clutching the medicine bottle. “Just…promise me you’ll take a test to be on the safe side. Anytime I get sick, I always take a test.”

I nod with a small smile. “No problem. I can do that.”

My eyes fly down to my watch, checking to make sure we won’t be late. “We need to get going to school.” Standing up, I grab my backpack and throw it over my shoulder.

---