Page 41 of Make Me Bleed
My fingers clamp tightly, fisting the paper. “Good thing I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, Gabriel.”
“Peris…”
“No.”
“You’re making a mistake?—”
I bark a laugh, startling myself along with Gabriel as I shoot up in the bed to glare at him with drunken eyes. “A mistake? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I don’t know how utterly fucked up all of this is? How he’s waltzed his way into my life—again, just like the first time—and is gonna fuck it all up all over again?”
“Well, I?—”
“Of course, I know this, Gabe! He fucked me up, and I’m still not okay! I’ll never be okay again, and it’sfinebecause at least he’s here now.” I finish my thoughts with a heaving breath. My eyes sting, surprising me, and I blink rapidly through it.
The silence settles between us, and it’s poignant, filled with so many things still left unsaid.
“Fuck, dude.”
I snort through a sniffle I don’t mean to let loose. “Yeah.” I nod as I flop back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling. “Fuck.”
“You look like shit.”
“Thank you, smartass,” I snap as the blinding sun fills the room. I groan and roll onto my stomach, flinging the blankets over my head to block it out.
“Nuh-uh, we gotta go. Bus is leaving soon.” Hands grab at my blanket and rip it off, not only blinding me once more with my already pounding head but causing a fresh wave of freezing air to waft over my bare skin.
"Ahh!" I yelp and curl inward as I scramble for purchase.
“Don’t be such a bitch. Get up.” Gabe smacks my ass before throwing the blanket in the corner.
“Ugh, fuck you,” I mumble into the sheets.
“Yeah, fuck me,” he scoffs. “Come on, up you get.” And with a groan that vibrates my bones, I push myself to my feet and manage to pull clothes over my body in a half-dazed state, not giving two shits what I look like, only hoping it’s a quick enough trip so I can go back to sleep when I get home.
“I don’t get how you can drink so much and be so hungover all the time,” Gabe says conversationally as I shove my shit into my bag, and I would roll my eyes if I knew it wouldn’t hurt.
“Yeah, me, too,” I mutter. It’s kinda fucked up if you ask me, but I don’t make the rules. I only drink until I hopefully can’t think and then deal with the consequences later.
Shoving the notepad into my hoodie pocket, I swing my duffle bag over my shoulder and make my way down to the lobby with Gabriel on my heels.
The morning is crisp and refreshing as I breathe it in, and it helps my hangover only slightly as I find my place on the bus and press my face against the cool glass. Gabe—thankfully—leaves me alone, as he finds his own spot across the aisle from me.
And that’s when I pull the paper out of my pocket and stare down at Abel’s sharp, scribbled numbers. I trace my thumb over the indents in the paper, and a part of me aches for any part of him, the way I think I always have, but the bigger part of me hates him for what he did. For who he created in me and who I’ve now become because of it.
This disgusting, mangled excuse of a person who can’t even stand to exist.
The ride home doesn’t take too long, and before I realize, we’re pulling up in front of the school and Gabe is nudging me awake.
“Come on. I’ll give you a lift home.”
My brows draw together as I let out a yawn and stretch my arms above my head. “Obviously. Who the fuck else is gonna do it?”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Right. Let’s go.”
“All right, give me a fucking minute.” I grab my bag and follow him off the bus. His car is across the parking lot, and when I finally drop into the passenger seat, I groan, every bone in my body leaden with exhaustion.
I’m weary with the desire to fall into sleep again, but Gabriel’s twitchiness is keeping me alert. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” I ask as he pulls up to a red light.
“What?” He jolts, and I roll my eyes.
