Page 32 of Lies and Other Drugs

"Yes," he said with certainty. His voice was like steel, unyielding. "You're going to ruin everything. At least this way, I can ruin you first."

I walked up to Samuel, keeping my eyes fixed on his stocky frame. His blond hair didn't seem so bright now. His green eyes weren't as alluring as they were before. He didn't look like a pretty boy; he looked ruined.

I walked forward, the only sounds in the room were our mixed breaths and my high heels on the tile floors. I moved until we were chest to chest. It was like the night we fucked each other senseless, I should've known then that we were always meant to hurt one another—always meant to kill one another.

"The drug dealer, you knew him. What, did you spike William’s drink?"

Samuel reached out and grabbed my chin, pinching my face between his thumb and index finger just enough for it to hurt. "I got a faulty batch. My dealer had just called to warn me. But I didn't have to sneak it in his drink. William took it willingly."

"You liar!" I yelled. With any luck, someone would've heard me and would come to check on us. I was prepared to destroy myself while seeking revenge. But now, I felt this strange urge to live. To see Noah's face once more, to dance with Youngblood in the dim lights again. And to take a knife and drive it through Samuel Smith's chest.

"You know I'm telling the truth. You know, deep down. I saw William crying in his upstairs bedroom, so I offered him a little peace. I'll never forget the way he stared at me, and now that I've met you and learned of your stupid promise to one another, I think that he thought of you in his last moments. He thought of your disappointments, but he didn't care enough."

Samuel's words were deadlier than any gun.

I could feel everything and nothing all at once, I cared but didn't care. I believed Samuel, but I didn't want to. William was always the weaker one, William was always the one burdened by his emotions. Where I was impulsive, he would take years to make decisions. I accepted the vast feelings of loneliness, and he had a persistent need to be surrounded by people.

"You still gave him tainted drugs. You still knew what you were doing. You're a coward," I spit out, not really knowing how else to insult someone who felt less than even I did.

Samuel pressed the barrel of the gun up against my chest and let out a sigh before speaking. "You know, my father would make me apologize after every punch until I was so broken that I couldn't speak anymore. If I failed at school, I'd have no money, no name; he would havekilledme." His voice wavered for a moment, and I realized that I was thankful that my brain didn't allow me to feel fear. Fear made people do terrible things.

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Am I supposed to understand why you killed someone now? You were gonna let me blame her, weren't you?" I asked. I shoved him, not caring that the gun was still pressed against my chest bone. He didn't falter, instead he leaned over me.

"In some ways, itisher fault. It's all of our faults. I gave him the drugs. Nathaniel broke his heart. Mrs. Robinson owns all of us. Hell, the drug dealer gave me faulty drugs, are you gonna blame him, too? Do you want to blame the school, Octavia? After all, he wouldn't be dead if he’d never come here."

I slapped him. I slapped him so hard my fingers stung.

I had half expected him to pull back the safety and press his index finger against the trigger, ending this entire standoff. However, Samuel looked at me like I was insane, and I guess I was. "I have a gun to your chest, and your solution is to slap me?" When I first started this path to answers, I thought Nathaniel was the one to get off on other people's fear. I thoughtheintimidated William.

But I couldn't have been more wrong. It was Samuel who liked to inhale the fumes of my fear like it was a drug. And when I didn't give in to what he expected, it enraged him. I think men that were beat down craved control. Samuel was just another broken little boy that wanted to feel half as powerful as he thought his father was. And in another time, in another world, he and William would've gotten along really well. They had more in common than he thought.

"Go ahead. Shoot me. But let me tell you something, I'm not afraid if you. I'm not afraid of death. I'm not afraid of consequences. When I was a little girl, my mom used to tell me that I was broken. But I think it's the rest of the world that's messed up, not me. Because you're controlled by everything else but yourself. And the only person that controls me, is me."

A bead of sweat traveled down Samuel's cheek, hitting the floor. He was all talk, he wouldn't actually shoot me. The man had to use faulty drugs and a weakened disposition to kill William. This was too public. Too messy.Too personal.Samuel liked to hide behind his personality, and I doubted that he was strong enough to do what it took.

"You gonna kill me? I'm waiting." My voice was taunting, as if I actually wanted him to. And maybe I did. I kept going back and forth between my desires.

"You're fucked in the head, Octavia."

"Is that all you got? Does it make you feel like a big bad man to insult me? Maybe I like being fucked in the head.”

I pressed against the barrel of the gun until it hurt. My skin felt pinched. One little twitch was all it would take. I glanced in Samuel's eyes, cool green looking back at me. And for a moment, I saw all his steel resolve that wasn't there before. He was imagining it. Behind his stone face was a smile as he imagined the blood and the gore. It wasn't until then that I realized he might actually do it.

Chapter 20

Iwas a firm believer that we create our own realities. You just had to ask the world for what you wanted. And after seeing the intent to kill in Samuel Smith's eyes,I wanted to live.It was a strange sensation, fear. I’d purged that emotional response from my soul long ago. There were cobwebs on my tremble. A distant echo to the way my heart raced. And yet, it was still there.

Just as Samuel was on the cusp of deciding whether or not to kill me on the spot, the classroom door opened. I swallowed just as Renon, The Drug Dealer, walked into the room. It was also in that moment that I decided he would always be called Renon the Drug Dealer in my mind. He paused to take in the scene, absorbing the danger and whatnot, then he slipped into his easy-going smile. I felt myself relax at his calm nature.

"Well, I was going to cancel. I had another pompous party to attend at theotheruniversity where everyone's got sticks up their asses. But I guess I'm glad I decided to crash this little shindig after all," he said with a frown before marching forward. He looked good. The white shirt he wore accentuated his deep tan. I recognized the fearless way he spoke as a tactic I often used. It wasn't a way to mask some underlying fear. I sensed that it was just his natural response to danger. Intrigue and sarcasm.Delicious.

I frowned at him, not sure why I was mad that he interrupted. Just moments ago, I wanted to live, and now I'm mad that it'shimcoming to save the day. Beggars can't be choosers, that was a lesson I learned long ago. But I wouldn't have chosen Renon the Drug Dealer had the universe or God or Oprah hand-selected the handsome asshole themselves. The brain was a fickle thing, right? Always wanting something else, always changing direction. Destruction could switch to preservation on a dime, but being selective seemed to be my only constant.

I couldn't tell if he was here to help or hinder. Not to mention, I still had a pistol lodged in my chest. The metal was biting at my skin, so I kept my frown placed on my face. The solid thing was anchoring me in my discontent for this entire situation. Shouldn't someone be dead by now? Preferably Samuel. Or maybe it was supposed to be me. I was impulsive and manic—and crazy—remember?

"Get the fuck out of here," Samuel growled out his order while narrowing his eyes at Renon. The tone of his voice made me once again wonder why I hadn't noticed before how much of a prick he was. Charm was his mask. A distractingly beautiful mask. Even now, I found myself wanting to stare into his green eyes.

"No, I think I'll stay," Renon answered while crossing his arms over his chest. The movement accentuated his large muscles and the tattoos swirling in fixed strokes around his tanned skin.

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