Page 43 of Crybaby

I am sick to death of hearing my fucking name. I’m going to change it. Maybe to Chloe or Veronica? Veronicas have all the fun.

“Who’s Veronica?”

Arms wrap around me and drag me out of the car, and even though I know his scent, even though his presence calms me, I still want to claw out his fucking eyeballs.

“You left me!” I cry, violently flailing to escape his arms.

Rev lets me go.

I spin to face him and do the other thing I can—I slap his cheek. Hard. But he doesn’t move. He simply stares at me, his golden eyes wide, his mouth slightly ajar.

“Wh-What happened? Blood?” It seems he can’t construct coherent sentences, either.

I want this dress off me.

Gripping the collar, I tug at it violently, and the moment I hear the first rip, I know what I must do.

“They need to pay. All of them,” I snarl, the bubble of hysteria about to pop as I claw at the dress with hysterical fingers. “So in everything, do unto others what you would have them do to you…”

Hardly the time to be reciting the Bible, but an eye for a fucking eye…and I plan on taking those bastards’ eyes and then some.

Spittle dribbles down my chin, and I’m certain I’m a rabid animal, ready to bite any fucker who dares to cross me ever again.

“We need to get you out of here.”

Rev shrugs out of his suit jacket and wraps it around me as my dress lays in a bloody, ruined heap by my feet, and I am standing in nothing but my soiled underwear.

Porch lights flicker on in a sequence, reminding me of regimented soldiers preparing for battle, which seems fitting seeing as I am about to go to war.

Rev takes my hand, but I don’t want him touching me. He left me, and I will never forget it.

“I’m sor—”

Before I can hear those words again, I slap his other cheek just as hard as the first. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. It’s too late for that.”

He nods once, accepting his punishment, his long bangs falling over his eyes.

I follow as he runs down the road toward a house where a man and woman are arguing in front of an idling car. They don’t even seem to realize we’re here, and I realize this isn’t a coincidence. Rev was here. He left me to those vultures so he could get his dick wet.

And when he throws a shopping bag into the back of the fancy sports car, I realize not only did he leave me to get his dick wet, he left me to rob the woman he fucked.

“Un-fucking-believable. You mother—” My sentence is muffled under his palm as he places me into the car. Before he has a chance to remove his hand, I bite his fingers. I want to bite them clean off.

He’s stone-faced as he runs to the driver’s side and gets in. He looks over his shoulder and reverses out of the driveway and takes off into the night, quicker than I can say…this is the beginning of the end.

I don’t know where we are going. All I know is that wherever we’re headed, I plan on paving the path with blood, violence, and revenge.

I’ve driven fast before, but if we survive the night, I’ll be very fucking surprised. I just can’t stop because the farther and faster I drive, the farther away we get from whatever the hell happened to Darcie.

She lays curled in a ball in the seat, dead asleep. The only thing that hints that she’s still alive is her chest sporadically shifting when she inhales a pained breath.

What the fuck happened to her?

I can’t even guess because every scenario wants me to rip out someone’s spleen—mine included. If I hadn’t left her, none of this would have happened. I was only supposed to be gone for a little while. But seems that “little while” was a long fucking time for Darcie to end up bloody, beaten, and her eyes robbed of the light which perpetually shined.

I slam my palm against the steering wheel over and over again.

This is my fucking fault, and I will do everything I can to make it up to her.

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