Page 54 of Forgive Me Father
But tonight, everything feels different. The tension, the pressure from Zack’s relentless needling, the constant push and pull with Roman—all of it weighs on me like a suffocating blanket. The taste of rebellion, of doing something that everyone least expects, suddenly feels like a way to regain control.
I glance at the cup Zoey pushed into my hands, the red liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. A part of me knows this is a bad idea, that it’s a step backward, but another part of me—the part that’s tired, frayed, and desperate for a way out—wants to drown out the noise, if only for a little while.
Maybe it’s the twisted need to defy Zack, to show him I’m not as predictable as he thinks. Or maybe it’s the creeping realizationthat Roman has burrowed deeper into my psyche than I’d like to admit, and I just need something—anything—to push those thoughts away, even if it’s temporary.
“Eden, you don’t have to do that if you don’t want to,” Luca says softly, his voice a calm anchor in the storm that’s raging inside me.
But even Luca’s warmth, his gentle presence, isn’t enough to stop me this time.
I give him a small, reassuring smile, but it feels hollow. My hand tightens around the cup, and I make my choice.
"The reason I don't drink, Zack," I hiss, lifting Zoey’s cup to my lips and taking a defiant swig of the bitter red liquid. The taste is harsh, but I don’t stop. I drink until the cup is empty, the red wine dribbling down the side of my mouth. I swipe it away with my sleeve, feeling the warmth settle uneasily in my stomach as I stand to refill the cup.
"Because the last time I did, I woke up in a hospital room," I say, my voice cold as I pour more wine into the cup. I stare at the red liquid, the memories it stirs, making my skin crawl. "And I was no longer a virgin," I mutter, glaring into the cup. The group is silent, their eyes fixed on me as I down the second cup without hesitation.
"The worst part," I say, my voice trembling, "is that the only thing I remember clearly... is the sound of my own screams."
I throw the cup into the roaring fire and shove my hands in my pockets. I glance at Aiden, his face pale, stricken.
"That night, I came home," I whisper, the words tasting like ash. "I ran away from the hospital before they could call Mom and Dad." My breath shudders as I continue. "Ericgot away with all of it. And so did every other guy in that fraternity he let into the room with us."
The alcohol hits me hard, my empty stomach amplifying its effects. I grab the hem of my hoodie and pull it up, revealing the deep scratch marks Eric left, now mingled with the razor cuts I inflicted on myself afterward.
"My collarbone is still healing," I say softly, touching the still-discolored skin. "So are my ribs."
The healing nail marks sting as I run my fingers over them. "He grabbed me so hard when I tried to get away that he tore off some of his nails."
I turn to Zack, shaking my head in disgust.
"I started cutting the day after I got home," I whisper, biting down hard on my inner cheek to keep from breaking. "So there’s your fucking story, Zack." My voice sharpens as I snatch a bottle of vodka from Nathan.
"Feel free to tell God," I say, popping the top off and raising the bottle in a mock toast. "I couldn’t fucking care less what He thinks."
With that, I take a long, burning swig from the bottle and walk away, leaving the group in stunned silence. No one dares to say a word as they watch me go, the weight of what I’ve revealed hanging heavy in the air.
"Eden," Luca calls after me, his voice tinged with concern, but I keep moving, heading toward the water’s edge.
A hand catches my arm, pulling me to a stop. I spin on my heels, ready to snap.
"Luca, I don’t need you looking at me like some kicked puppy. That wasn’t the point.” I hiss, glaring at him. “I don’t need any more religious pricks in my life pretending to care about me.”
He closes his mouth, takes a breath, and then, to my surprise, steps closer.
"Who said I’m just another religious prick?" He asks, his voice steady. "And who says I don’t care?" His hand reaches out, cupping my face, his thumbs gently brushing over my cheeks.
I grab his wrists, my eyes narrowing. "You don’t know me," I whisper harshly. "Why the hell would you care?"
He shrugs, his gaze steady. "Look, we could spend weeks getting to know each other, building something, or you could just accept that sometimes, people care even after just one meeting," He says, his hands gently returning to my face. "Do you think I actually enjoy hanging around a bunch of potheads and dealing with Zoey’s chaos?" He smiles slightly, shaking his head. "Aiden’s cool, but I came here for you. To get to know you. Father Briar messed up our first shot, but he’s not here now," He says, glancing around before looking back at me. "So, tell me to fuck off, or let me in and show me who the real Eden Faulkner is."
Before he can say another word, I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. He pulls me in, and I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning into the kiss. His lips are soft, but I need control—something real. I bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He gasps against my mouth, his tongue slipping past my lips as the kiss turns fierce and raw. The taste ofhis blood mixes with the wine on my tongue as he backs me into the nearest tree, the rough bark scraping my skin.
Pain is good.
Pain is needed.
"Shit," He breathes, pulling back slightly, a drop of blood on his lip. "I didn’t mean to shove you that hard—"
Grabbing his collar, I pull him close.
