Page 16 of Relapse
My nostrils flared as I looked up to the window on the second floor. The same blue curtains were still hanging on the other side. Despite being a little faded from the sunlight, I could still see the tiny white flowers decorating the trim.
I bought those for her so she would know that even if I couldn’t physically be there, I was still there.
When I was a kid, I’d get a strange feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t explain it, I just knew that Harper needed me. So I’d come over here and hold her until she fell asleep.
For years I told myself it was my imagination, but now as I stood there staring at those blue panes of cloth, I couldn’t help but wonder if Iwaspicking up on something?
Did I see something that I wasn’t old enough to understand? I spent the last two hours asking myself that question. Would the answer make a difference? She still betrayed me. I took two years of torment to keep her safe, and when it was her turn to be tested, she threw me under the bus.
So no, it wouldn’t make a difference. But it might give me some peace. Let me go to sleep at night without seeing the sick twisted smile of the green-eyed bastard that spawned me.
Ryker Hudson was the boogeyman to everyone. To me… he was the living nightmare I had to endure to protect the girl I loved.
‘Do you think she’d show you the same loyalty?’
That was one of the last things that sick fuck said to me. Turned out he was right. I faced a monster for Harper, and she turned me into one. How’s that for irony?
I jumped up, grabbing onto the branch above my head, and grunted as I pulled myself up.
What was I going to do when I took Harper? I had no fucking clue, but I did have a few ideas. Time didn’t heal a broken heart, it made it black. I didn’t just want to see her cry, I wanted her to suffer.
Every time she ducked away from me or whimpered in despair, I felt a little more satisfied. If I hurt her enough, then maybe I could chase away the image haunting the back of my mind.
When I banged some random chick, it wasn’t their annoying face I saw moaning. It was hers. Harper’s face was in every magazine I picked up and every porn I watched. It was her chest I saw heaving while her lips parted in ecstasy. I’d been jerking off to that girl since the day my balls dropped.
That was the truly fucked up part. I despised everything about Harper, yet no matter how many chicks I bent over, I couldn’t rid myself of those fantasies. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe it was time for some good old-fashioned hate fucking.
No, hate wasn’t the right word. Rage was much closer to what I wanted. I wanted to feel her pulse flutter while I choked the life out of her and used her cunt as my personal jerk-off toy. Maybe throw in some tears and a couple pleas for me to stop and I’d be good.
Yeah, that’s what I wanted. To break the bitch that broke me. Harper could consider it payback. Then, when I was done, I’d toss her away. Nothing more than another notch on my bedpost. At least that’s what I told myself.
I twisted my body and took the next step up the tree. Kicking off a flimsy twig to the bigger branch above. I barely made it before the twig snapped off and fell to the ground.
This shit was easier when I was a kid. Then again, I didn’t weigh anywhere close to what I did now. At least I had strength on my side. Benefits of my many nights spent in the ring.
My phone went off when I was halfway up the tree.
“Fuck,” I growled as the ringtone echoed in the night.
My first instinct was to hang up. In order to do that, though, I’d have to let go of what I was holding and grab my phone. Since I didn’t want the entire household to know I was here–Mrs. Benson would come out here with a broom and beat me to death–I had no choice but to answer.
Tapping the headset in my ear, I barked out, “What?” and continued up the tree.
“Where are you?”
Fucking Lou.
“Banging your secretary.” I stepped onto a branch and paused when it creaked. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
Of course he did. Lou always needed to talk about something. My grades, behavior at school, or the fact that he wasn’t my real fucking father.
“Can it wait?” I looked down at the ground as the branch creaked again–this time with a significant pop–and carefully tiptoed my way to a thicker piece of wood. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“In the middle of what?”
I rolled my eyes at the worry in his tone. “Relax Lou, I don’t have a needle shoved in my arm.”
