Page 213 of Did They Break You

No one speaks for long moments.

Cortland looks down, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“I know you love me,” I tell him in the quiet. “In your own sick and twisted way, I know you do. But if you loved me enough, you would’ve stayed away.”

He shakes his head.

My heart cracks.

“Remi, I…”

“Go live, little wolf,” Storm says in the night. “We all know you deserve more than us.”

I consider it. Turning around and walking away.

But my emotions cloud and without thinking, I lunge for Cortland, but Storm steps in front of him, holding me back.

I hit at him, scratch at him. But I don’t beg anymore.The hollowness in my heart is breathtaking. It’s like an elephant on my chest, collapsing my lungs. Reducing me to nothing.

Storm’s fingers are wrapped around my upper arms, and Cortland turns his back on me. He opens the screen door.

I go still again, in Storm’s arms.

I won’t beg you again.

I drop my head to Storm’s chest, and by the time I look up, Cortland is gone.

CHAPTER

FIFTY-NINE

CORTLAND

Hurts like hell.

That’s how it feels, watching her drive away, spinning her tires as she backs out.It hurts like hell.

I press my fist to my mouth, a scream lodged in my throat.

Don’t go, baby.

I want to yell it. I want to run outside and flag her down. But that gunshot rings out over and over in my head and I’m worried Chase’s dad is following us. Followingher.If I told her the truth, she’d refuse to leave, and I can’t do that to her.

I turn away from my bedroom window and shrug off my shirt. I drag my nails down my arm and sink to the floor, my head on my knees as I scratch and tear and rip my skin.

It feels so good.

I bleed for her, and I pinch the skin, fire up and down my arms.

“I’m nothing,”she said that night on my couch.

I dig my nails in deeper, crying out at the pain.

“You’re not nothing, baby.”I whisper those words as I hurt myself more, feel more.Cry more.“You’re not nothing. And you deserve far better than I could ever give you.”

I don’t sleep mostof the weekend.

When the Monday morning sun rises through the crack in my curtains, I’m already showered, dressed, and headed to Dad’s.

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