Page 49 of Crybaby

She tongues over her grazed lip before replying, “He was the one who drove me out of there. The one who saved me in a way. He was nice.”

“Oh bull-fucking-shit,” I snap, incredulous and angered she would see him in that way. “Carson says jump, and those fuckers say how high.”

“Well, you’re wrong because he was there when you weren’t! He was the one who showed me kindness when I was passed around like a fucking football! He was the one who chased after me when I threw myself out of his car, wanting nothing more than for this entire nightmare to end forever!

“So think what you want, but what Iknowis that he was there when you weren’t.”

The TV reflects the shine of her eyes, but she quickly brushes away her tears with trembling fingers.

I know she didn’t mean to snap, but it’s the truth. Carsonwasthere for her when I should have been, and I will forever make amends for that mistake.

“Did you mean what you said?”

She doesn’t look at me. Instead, she stares blankly at the TV. “Yes.”

I don’t need to elaborate on what I mean. She knows. It’s the only question that seems to make sense.

I’ve done some shitty things in the past, but this, this is something else.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” she says frankly. “But don’t try to stop me. This is happening with or without you.”

This may not make sense to most, but seeing Darcie this way, talking about murder, just has me falling deeper and deeper under her spell. I’ve never met anyone like her, and I don’t think I ever will again.

“I understand—”

But I cut her off. “I’m all in.”

She turns to face me slowly. She wears the perfect poker face, but I know my admission has stunned her into silence. So there is only one thing to do.

With the smallest of movements, I shift toward her. She does the same thing to me, and the space between us suddenly feels worlds apart. But when she is close enough, I reach for her, and with a tender touch, I pull her into my arms and everything else simply just…exists around us.

At this moment, this is all that matters.

She wraps herself in my arms and cuddles close, lowering her walls just this one time because come tomorrow, I know her barricades will be impenetrable.

She inhales deeply, nuzzling into my chest, and I like it. I don’t like cuddling because it’s never been like that with the women I’ve been with. But with Darcie, it feels…nice.

“You smell like coconuts,” she sleepily says. “I like it.”

I stroke her damp hair and realize I would do anything for her. I mean, I just agreed to murder our classmates, and I don’t feel a fucking lick of shame for it.

I think of June and what that would mean for her. All I’ve done my entire life is look after her, and I don’t think she’ll know how to survive without me.

“What are you thinking about?”

“My mom,” I confess, which is hardly the appropriate thing to say when you’re cuddling with a girl. But Darcie gets it. “She is probably passed out on the bedroom floor in a drug-induced coma by now.”

“Oh…did you—”

But for once in my life, I don’t put my mom first. “Tomorrow, we need new wheels. The cops will be all over the one I stole. We also need some clothes. I think it’s best we lay low for a couple of days.”

Her head bobs once as she nods. “Agreed. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

Our breathing fills the silence, but I want to clarify one thing. “What you said before…nothing will ever change the way I see you.”

The semi I have is proof of that. I know she feels dirty, but I’ll never see her as a victim. Rather, I see her as the victor. She survived, but the ones who broke her won’t.

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