Page 53 of Kings of Westbrook High

I glare at that, hesitating a moment before I decide to tell her. “Your ashes are in here.”

She pulls her head back and eyes me like I'm crazy. “Excuse me?”

“Jason gave it to me.” I explain, running my finger over the engraving. “I've had it forever. I don't even remember the day I was so young. Four, five, maybe? I remember asking about you when I was a kid, and I remember him telling me you were dead, and I remember crying about it all the time because he told me it was my fault, that I'd killed you and taken you from him the day I was born.”

She frowns at that, confused. “Why on earth would he tell you that?”

“Because he liked making me cry.” I say simply, shrugging. “So, anyway.. he gave me the locket and I wore it every day because I thought I was carrying a piece of my mother with me, someone I convinced myself would have loved me unconditionally and protected me with her life had she still been here. Until one day when I was thirteen, he and I got in a huge fight and he decided it'd be fun to hurt me with the truth. You weren't dead, you were alive, living fuck knows where and doing fuck knows what without me, and the locket I'd physically clung to every time I felt sadness or pain or heartache?” I raise a brow, laughing lightly. “It's full of cigarette ash.”

Her brows jump and she licks her lips, processing that a moment before she speaks again. “Why do you still wear it?”

“Because the day I learned the truth about you was the day I became the person I am now.” I explain, leaning my elbows on the island to level with her. “I wear it because it reminds me who I am. I'm nothing.. I love nothing.. I feel nothing.”

She visibly swallows when she catches the look in my eyes, almost like she's seeing me in a whole new light. “God, what did he do to you?”

I laugh at that, doing my best to ignore the piercing knife in my heart when I think back to the day he broke it. “He gave me the thing I loved most. Then he took it away.”

All the color drains from her face and I grin on the inside, knowing I've gotten to her.

“Callie, I didn't..” She inhales a shaky breath, averting her eyes. “I'm sorry.”

I grind my teeth because I don't need her fake ass fucking sorries.

What I need is answers.

“Why'd you do it?”

She licks her lips, shrugging. “I was eighteen-”

“Not that.” I bite out, pinning her snake eyes with mine. “I know what you d-”

Her head snaps to something over my shoulder and I quickly shut my mouth, straightening my spine when I catch the clear flash of fear in her eyes.

“Damon, hi.”

Fuck.

My heart races in its cage and I close my eyes a moment, sliding the ice pack from the counter and turning to leave. He glares and snatches my arm to stop me, forcing my eyes up to his to demand I show him my truth.

He heard everything.

I slowly shake my head, pulling my arm from his grip because no, we're not doing this.

Of fucking course, he follows me anyway.

I ignore him on the way up to my room, grabbing a towel from the rack and rolling my eyes when he follows me into the bathroom.“You gonna watch me shower, big brother?” I tease, forcing a playful tone that makes my tongue taste like acid. “Because-”

“Cut the shit!”

I jump and grip the edge the sink, refusing to look at him because if I look, I'll see it. The anger, the pure rage rolling off him in waves so thick it's making it hard to breathe in here. If I look, he'll do that thing he does where he pretends to care about me and my life. I'm still not sure what game he's playing with me or what his motive is, but whatever it is, I'm not interested.

“Callie..”

“Damon.”

“Look at me.”

“Can you just go?” I whisper, dropping my eyes to concentrate on my swollen knuckles rather than the pathetic emotions threatening to scratch their way through the surface.

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