Page 317 of Vicious Saint
Before anyone can question the hostility, Archer’s sudden, belted out laugh smooths it away.
“Oh, I’ve got it, bitches.”
The sound of an animated cartoon plays behind me, specifically a girl talking to what I can only assume are animals by the pitch of their voices. When I turn, I find pretty much what I expected, a small child surrounded by a bunch of talking stuffed animals. Only part I missed was the doctor coat.
“Oh, my God, yes!” Theory squeaks. “This was literally my favorite show growing up as a kid. I wasobsessed. Even had the plush I slept with every night”
“Turn it the fuck off. Now,” Saint demands so harshly it startles everyone in the room, and when I turn I find his eyes glazed and filled with agony.
Horror, even, before he looks away from us.
What the heck just happened?
Unsure how to react discreetly to this level of Saint’s emotions in public, I go with squeezing his leg, which is shaking beneath my fingers.
“Hey…what’s wrong?” I whisper, but not low enough because Archer chimes in.
“For real…” He lets out a perplexed scoff. “What do you have against Doc McStuffins, man?”
My back straightens.
Doc McStuffins…
The little girl from his school who was obsessed with her.
Realization slams into me at full force, ripping a gasp from my throat, followed by the churning of acid.
Saint’s irrational need to treat Theory like a child.
The broken jaw she refuses to talk about.
The constant obsession over whether or not he hurts me.
“It was me who hurt you first, Jimi,” the vow Saint made me the night in the woods plays like a haunted record in my head, “So I promise to never let anyone else hurt you ever again.”
No.
No.
It can’t be.
It fuckingcan’tbe.
All the pieces come together to rip me apart as Saint tries to hide the tear dripping down his cheek with a swipe of his hand.
Lost is the caveman crazy boyfriend.
Gone is the overbearing big brother.
In their place is the scared little boy suffering in silence as the universe so viciously rips open wounds he’s spent years punishing himself over. The ones I thought I’ve been helping to heal.
But a wound this deep? Love isn’t even enough to offer a Band-Aid.
Hate on the other hand…there’s more than enough of that to create a whole world inside a person’s head. Where they grow accustomed to being portrayed as the enemy.
Maybe even a monster.
I’m lost on what to do at this moment, but I have to try something because watching Saint crumble before me is literally breaking my heart into a million pieces.
