Page 19 of Victorious: Part 2
“Well, you sure as hell need someone,” I shout. “Because whatever the fuck you’re doing right now, it’s not brave, Clover. It’s self-destructive.”
She recoils like I’ve slapped her. “You think I don’t know that?” she hisses. “You think I don’t feel as if I’m coming apart at the seams every second we’re out here? That I don’t hear the silence in my chest where my family should be? I’m terrified, Phoenix.But I’m still standing. I’m still fucking trying.”
I drag a hand down my face, my heart thudding. “You think this isn’t killing me too?”
“Then why the fuck won’t you act like it?” she screams.
“I am!”
“You’re acting like a motherfucking robot. Not someone who gives a damn.”
“That’sbullshit!”
“No. It’s the truth,” she yells, shoving me back with both hands. “You can’t even admit what this is. You act as if I’m a mission, a checklist, a goddamn promise. But you don’t feel, Phoenix.You never fucking feel!”She lets out a frustrated groan. “I’m done being handled,” she whispers finally, her voice shaking. “Done being told whatIfeel, whatIneed, whoIam. Youdon’tget to decide for me.”
I shake my head, my jaw tight. “I’m not trying to decide for you.”
“Yes, you are,” she says. “You always are. Ihaveto go back,”she sobs. “I have to make sure they’re okay.”
“By getting usbothkilled on the highway?”
She scoffs, turning away from me and begins pacing again. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t understand?” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Clover, that’s my sister back there too. You think I don’t want to know if she’s safe? You think this isn’t killing me?”
She looks up at me through her tears, and I see past her desperation to the fear underneath.
She’s terrified.
We both are.
“Then why won’t you let us go back?” she whispers.
That’s when I completely lose it.
All the fear, all the frustration, all the guilt and uncertainty and terror that’s been building since the moment we lost contact comes pouring out like a dam bursting. “Because it’s my job to keep you safe,”I roar. “Because your brother looked me in the eye and made me promise thatnothingwould happen to you. Because if I let you walk into whatever’s waiting back there andyouget hurt, I’llneverforgive myself.”
She stares at me, tears streaming down her face. “That’snotyour choice to make.”
“Yes. It is,”I say firmly. “When you’re being reckless and—”
I stop myself, but it’s too late.
The word hangs in the air between us like a live grenade.
“Reckless and what?” she asks, her voice dangerously quiet.
Stupid.
That’s what I was going to say.
Reckless and stupid.
But I can’t say it now, can’t give voice to the thought that’s been lurking in the back of my mind.
Because it’s not true.
She’s not stupid.
