Page 67 of Poetry of Flowers

“You can go and fuck yourself.” I hissed at him; I didn’t care if he got angry.

What was he going to do?

Find me and beat me up right in front of my friends?

Patrick scoffed, “If I can give you one piece of advice, Kayden, then don’t go to try to find Clark, you don’t want that.”

“Aww, now you’re concerned about him hurting my feelings. Sorry, Dad, but you can’t break something that’s already broken.”

“I’m not concerned about you, but about your friend. Don’t do this to that girl.”

I was too confused to reply.

Why was he talking about Tillie?

Nothing new to me that he was kind to her and Remy because their father was my father’s college roommate.

“What are you talking about? Is this some damn joke? Oh, let me guess, you know Tillie means a lot to me, and now you are using her to change my mind, so nothing of this will ever reach the public.” I laughed at him.

Did he think he could put me off for real?

I thought he was smarter than that.

“Clark isn’t the saint you think he is, don’t-”

“Because you are the saint in my story, you know what, Patrick? I hope all of this reaches the media, and you will be ruined.” And with that, I ended the call. I wanted to smash my phone on the ground so badly, but I needed to keep calm.

Sadness is anger - August 28, 2014

I feel sorry about things that aren’t my fault,

The need to apologize even when I’m innocent.

Unnecessary tears on my lips taste like salt,

Speaking out loud, the words wandering through my mind would be magnificent.

But everything is always my fault,

The pain of others linked to me.

Lying on my floor, hating myself for not wanting to be found,

Anger consuming the space in my mind when all I ever needed to be was to be free.

ChapterTwenty-One

MATILDA

“Y’all look a little lost,” said Devon, the guy who had paid for our breakfast.

He slid onto the bench next to me, where Kayden just sat a few minutes ago. Maybe he went to call his bank? Dad has plenty of problems with them, and almost a call a week because of digital issues.

“We’re actually not lost; we have a plan,” Theo answered him with a nod.

Devon leaned forwards on his elbows, a playful grin on his lips. I don’t know what to think about him, he was terrifying and somewhat nice at the same time.

“I know the look in your eyes, kids, been there, done that. When I was seventeen, I sat at this exact table without a goal, without money.” Devon grinned, and the fake little diamonds on his incisor shone in the light of the rising sun coming through the window.

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