Page 163 of Sweet Venom
I pushed her away and shook her by the shoulders. “How long are you going to continue being naïve, Violet? You’re supposed to be enraged and feel wronged that I targeted you and made your life fucking hell for witnessing a murder that turned out to be a suicide. You’re supposed to slap and punch me and call me a fucking piece of shit.”
She had tears in her eyes, shiny droplets that shimmered under the driveway’s lights. When she opened her mouth, a low whisper escaped her. “I don’t want that.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?”
“For you to process your pain, Jude. I’ve been learning a lot about unprocessed trauma lately, and while I don’t claim to be an expert, I know the first step to dealing with it is accepting it.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I sidestepped her. “You know nothing about my life, so don’t bring your hopeless idealism into this equation just because you learned some fancy psychological garbage.”
“That’s not?—”
I drove away before she could finish her sentence. Seeing her gentle expression and feeling how goddamn forgiving she is made me even more enraged at myself.
Because that made me think I could’ve met her under different circumstances. Like after that time she gave me her blue umbrella and protein bar, whispering, “Stay strong.”
But we didn’t start like that.
Istalkedher.
Invaded her privacy.
I killed a man right before her eyes to terrorize her.
I pushed her far enough that she chose a coma and the possibility of death instead of me.
And no matter how much I’ve liked to gloss over those facts these last couple of weeks, nothing can erase them.
And now, I’ve found out the reason I did all of that was a lie all this time.
Violet didn’t ask for any of this.
And yet she got me as her fucking grim reaper.
I lift my head to the stands, searching for her fiery hair and bright-blue eyes, but I only see Dahlia and her former roommate. Both are wearing Vipers jerseys and cheering the team on.
Not sure why I was expecting to see Violet up there when this is the fifth time I’ve checked.
Fine. Tenth.
Why would she even come to watch the game when I’ve ghosted her since that night?
Yes, I made sure her bodyguard escorted her home safely, and he’s always keeping an eye on her, but I haven’t dropped by the penthouse since.
I’ve been busy slashing faces open and pretending they’re Regis’s.
The first few days, Violet texted me.
Are you okay?
You probably need time to deal with this, so I shouldn’t bother you, but I wanted to check in just in case you need someone to talk to.
It doesn’t have to be me. Kane and Preston would also listen, right?
I’m sorry you had to find out about your mother’s suicide that way. I know it must’ve hurt, but it’s not your fault.
Isn’t it strange that you used to tell me that about my own mother, and now I’m saying it to you? I guess we’re really alike in that regard. Preston said the three of us should form the Mommy Issues Club.
Jokes aside, I’m starting to unravel my past now that I’ve accepted that it’s not my fault. Sometimes, it’s hard, and Mama still appears in my nightmares, calling me names, but it’s better than before I met you. In a sense, your telling me it’s not my fault or I’m not my mom helped open my perspective, and it’s part of the reason why I’m in therapy. Aside from being able toafford it now, of course. So I’m truly thankful for that, Jude. I know we haven’t known each other for a long time, and what we have is just physical, so I’m probably overstepping, but I wanted to say that your mother’s illness or choices are not your fault. It’s not hers either, because she was obviously struggling and battling her own head, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the victim.
