Page 146 of Vicious Saint
Because for a second I thought, maybe, justmaybe,we were getting past these stupid games. Past his lies about hatred and not giving a shit. That Saint would keep showing me why it’s okay to trust him.
Like him, even.
Guess the only stupid one was me.
“Tell me the truth!” I push him against the wall. “Why’d you hurt Stevenson again?”
Easing up on the bravado, he says, “I already told you because he touched you.”
I ease up onnothing.
“He’s allowed to fucking touch me.”
“Nobodyis allowed to fucking touch you.”
“You’ve touched me multiple times!”
He drops the stupid loofa, spinning me around until I’m backed against the wall. “That’s different.”
I shouldn’t entertain the hypocrisy, but I need to know what psychobabble bullshit he’s got going in his head. “How is that different?”
Saint bares his teeth. “Because when my daddy stuck his cock inside your mommy, he made youmine.”
Before my brain registers the movement, I slap him for the second time in twenty-four hours.
Saint’s face remains to the side as I wait.
Nothing.
Nothing.
I strike him again, desperate for him, or evenVicious, to hit me back. But his fists remain at his sides.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Why my body and mind woke up so explosive.
All Idoknow is that I’m seconds away from detonating if this guy doesn’t show up and feed me his wrath.
I shove his chest. “Hit me.”
“I’m not gonna hit you.”
Another shove. “I said fucking hit me!”
Saint punches the wall at the side of my head. “No!”
“Then tell me the real reason you threw that ball at Stevenson!”
The ticking from the bomb slowly fades when Saint presses into me, using his fingers to ring through my wet hair.
“Because, Jimi, his pain would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Pain is what Idowhen I’m mad.”
“I won’t accept these answers.”
