Page 96 of Paradox
“All you’ve done is hurt me since I got here.”
“You’re still there?”
“Why couldn’t you have just lied to me?” I ask, soft enough that he might not hear, but with enough volume that he could if he really wanted to.
Something thuds against the door. It’s not hard—maybe his head? A flat hand?
“Why couldn’t you have just used me? I wouldn’t have known any better. You could have had some fun, taught me a few things, and told me it meant nothing in the spring. I’d have kept your secret. No one would ever have to know you were into guys, too.”
“I… Please open the door so I can look at you.”
“I was willing to give everything to you.”
“I know.”
“All you had to do was hug me and hold my hand, and I’d have slept with you any time you wanted.”
“Goddamnit, Jin. I want all of those things.”
“You’re a liar.”
“I’m not. Please open the door.”
“I’m sick of this shit, Eden. You don’t hurt people like you hurt me. You don’t give them bruises. You don’t leave them alone on the verge of hypothermia and gaslight them into believing it’s their fault!”
“How many times do you want me to say it? I know! I know! I know!”
“So why did you do it then?”
“Because I was in denial!”
It’s like nails on a chalkboard, those words. Or a record scratching, leaving a room in complete silence.
“I was in denial,” he echoes, but softer. “I’ve been in denial for… Fuck… Are you still there?”
I pull my legs back inside, but don’t make a sound.
“I’ve…” There’s another muffled thud against the door. “A little over a year… I dunno… Since your eighteenth, I guess.”
His words don’t make any sense.
He’d shown up to my party with Wootek and Reeze.
I spoke to Tek when they first arrived, but Eden had just stared. Long, hard, and full of hate. No happy birthday. Not even a grunt in my direction.
They kept to themselves in the corner of my parent’s backyard; a steady stream of girls who never stood a chance trying one after the other to get their attention.
But that’s all I remember.
It was my party, and they weren’t my friends.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…”
Like a magnet, and in rejection of my sensibility, I’m pulled towards the door. My fingertips are the first to touch it. Then, like a wave, the rest of my hand until my palms are resting against the wood.
“It made me hate you more than I already did…”
My hand slides towards the handle, but I pull it back.
