Page 41 of The Hate We Breathe
I catch a familiar head of light brown hair and then focus on the face beneath. I blink in surprise. It’s Avery.
She looks different than the last time I’d seen her. There are hollow bruises beneath her eyes and though she was always skinny, the collarbones beneath her skin stand out above the collar of her blouse more than ever before. I narrow my eyes as she stares at the priest, her cheek turned away from me.
Last I heard, she’d been sent off to a boarding school or something. Did she come back for the funeral or is she back for good?
Not that I care. I don’t. But… still… my curiosity remains.
The priest begins. “Welcome to one and all, neighbors… friends… family. We are gathered here today to pay homage to one of our town’s brightest stars.”
My upper lip curls back at that comment. Bright star? More like a deadly viper amongst sheep. I turn my attention to the casket, upon which a large floral bouquet has been laid. It’s so massive that it would take at least two people to lift it. Around the circle, though, more still hold flowers—waiting for their chance to place it atop the coffin. White flowers. All white—baby’s breath, daisies, carnations, and even white roses here and there.
Deep inside me, the angry girl that’s always been there rattles at the cage of my soul. She screams, sobs, and hurls every single curse she can think of. None of these people should be here.
Morpheus Calloway wasn’t a pillar of the community. He wasn’t a good man. He was evil who knew how to wear a convincing mask. Some of them have to know that.
Yet, here they all are, surrounding his grave as if he was someone they all treasured. Flowers clasped to their chests. Several older women have tissues clutched against them as well. Every so often, they reach up to wipe away a tear or two. Men stand, stoic and calm, sunglasses covering their eyes as if that will hide their own emotions.
Sorrow. Loss. An ache that permeates the air around us. This entire cemetery is filled with those feelings.
Inside me, though, there is nothing but rage.
Morpheus doesn’t deserve to be mourned. He doesn’t deserve this many people attending his funeral. He doesn’t deserve to be remembered as a person he wasn’t.
My chest pumps up and down as I suck in lungfuls of air. I know I should try to be looking for something else amongst this crowd—the real killer—but I can’t. I’m not sorry he’s gone. In fact, I’m glad he’s dead. Whoever the murderer is, I want to thank them. Shake their hand. Help them get away with it, but not if it puts me on the chopping block in their stead.
The only reason we want to find the real killer now is because I refuse to go down for something I didn’t do. I refuse to let these people—hypocrites that they are—villainize me again and make me their scapegoat. I’ve committed enough crimes for them to blame me for, but this is not one of them.
“Juliet?” Lex’s soft whisper nearly jolts me out of my skin as he brushes his fingertips lightly over my arm.
I look up, only then realizing that the priest has stopped speaking directly to the people and is now reciting some biblical verse as a line begins to queue for those who wish to drop their flowers onto Morpheus’ casket. Our hands—the Scorpion Kings and I—remain empty.
“Are you okay?” Lex asks, keeping his voice low.
Okay? No. God, no. I’m not okay.
“Why don’t you take her down the hill,” Nolan says, moving in close to my other side. “There’re a few benches down there. You can wait there until it’s over.”
Guilt swamps my chest. This is the exact reason they didn’t tell me about the funeral. I’d gotten so mad, been so pissed off, and yet, here I am, proving them right. Showing just how incapable I am of handling a monster’s demise when it’s what I’ve wanted for years.
I want to tell Nolan that I’m fine, that I can stay, but the words stick in my throat. Lie to myself? Fine. Lie to them? I can’t anymore.
“Come on, baby.” Lex’s voice is soft, soothing, as he takes my hand and tugs me away from the funeral. I stare at the backs ofeveryone standing over Morpheus’ grave for the longest time. I don’t look forward, instead trusting Lex to lead me where I need to go and keep me from falling.
When we’re down the hill and I can hardly see anything but the tops of people’s backs and shoulders, I turn towards him. Lex stops and cups my face in his palm.
“I love you.” I blink, not so much surprised by the words as I am by the location he chose to say them.
Lex has been obsessed with me for years. He’s stalked me. Watched me. Took pictures of me. Had his friend make me come on video just for him to watch. Toxic doesn’t even begin to describe our relationship. Yet, there’s no doubt in my mind that he speaks the truth. He does love me. And in my own fucked-up way, I love him too.
Closing my eyes, I press my forehead against his chest and just breathe. I don’t reply. I don’t mimic the words back to him. I don’t have to. He knows me better than I know myself.
“I’m not sad,” I say, though he hasn’t asked me any questions. “I’m just…” My words drift off, somewhat muffled by the way my face is pressed to his chest. A finger moves under my chin and I tilt my head back, looking up into a pair of the most stunning gunmetal gray eyes I’ve ever seen.
The corner of Lex’s mouth quirks up, and when his lips part, the edge of one canine peeks through. My insides clench tight. My fingers dig into his black coat. I want nothing more than to push him onto the ground and fuck him.
An image of me riding Lex atop Morpheus’ fresh grave makes me grin back at him. Maybe later, after everyone has gone and night has fallen, he can make that particular fantasy come true.
“You don’t need to be sad for that piece of shit,” Lex says. “He deserved what he got in the end. I’m only sorry it wasn’t one of us that killed him.”
