Page 89 of Dark Knight

I cover my mouth with my hand to hold in a sob. I wouldn’t want them to hear me. I might disturb their super important conversation, where they’re probably making even more decisions about my life without consulting me. I can’t ruin that, can I?

I’m going. I don’t have a choice. One more example of not having a choice in my own life. But what difference does it make, I guess. He doesn’t want me. I would rather eat glass than stay where I’m not wanted. I might not have much dignity left, but I’m not that pathetic.

I don’t even know where to begin, but I have to. It has never been more important to move my ass than it is right now, being that it means I don’t have to see Romero anymore. That’s the one thing I want most of all. To never see him again. I go to the closet and pull out my suitcases, flinging them on the bed before grabbing things randomly and shoving them inside. This is not the time for me to care which items go in which bag. The sooner I get this over with, the better.

Besides, I can barely see through the tears streaming down my face. The only time I stop is to run a fist under my eyes now and then, but otherwise, the tears drip from my chin and soak into my clothes. I wish I could set it on fire instead. I don’t want any reminders of this massive mistake.

Because stupid me thought I loved him. “Asshole,” I hiss in disgust, and it’s not him I’m thinking about. It’s me. The stupid, stupid asshole who insists on breaking her own heart. Romero didn’t do this to me. I did.

And now, I have the rest of my life to regret it.

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes to get everything ready. They’re still talking when I reach the top of the stairs. “I’m going to shower — everything is packed up.”

“I’ll take the bags to the car,” Romero offers while I head for the shower. The sound of his voice does strange things to me. It makes my heart ache and my pulse race. I want blood. I want him dead for rejecting me. For letting me think he cared. He used me. That’s all there is to it. He used me, and now he’s done, and we both know better than to ever let my father know.

A sick smile spreads over my face when I imagine what would happen if I told Dad everything. If I told him his precious, wannabe son took advantage of me. I was vulnerable, wasn’t I? And he used that. Something close to satisfaction warms me inside while I let it play out in my head. He would learn what happens to anybody stupid enough to hurt me.

The idea dies almost as soon as it's born. I can’t do it. I know I can’t. The old Tatum might have done what I imagine as I wash my hair, what I would have done to get back at him even a year ago. Dad would make him suffer for it.

I can’t be that girl anymore. I have to grow up sometime. So, as much as it hurts, and as much as I hate it, I have to let it go. I don’t know how, but there’s no choice but to figure it out. Right now, it’s all about scrubbing him off my body. Erasing every trace of his touch from my skin.

I wish it was as easy to wash a soul.

The bags are downstairs by the time I’m out of the shower and dressed in the sweater and leggings I left lying out on the bed. I want so much to take a second and look around the room one last time, but that’s dumb. It’s not like I have happy memories, anyway – because none of it was real. What’s the point of going over it?

The pain in my chest is almost enough to stop me, but I force myself through heading downstairs again. Dad and Romero sit on the sofa, and it’s pretty apparent there’s tension. “What’s wrong?” I venture as I twist my wet hair into a bun and clip it in place with trembling hands. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to confess, would he?

Dad shakes his head. “It looks like you’re not the only one who had a surprise waiting for them.”

“I told your father I’m not coming with you. I’m going to stay here.”

“I don’t see why,” Dad snaps. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone.”

“Oh, come on,” I say with a shrug. “He’s a big boy. He can handle being alone.” Amazing how easy it is to slide back into the old Tatum. As easy as sliding into my jacket before going outside.

“There’s a lot more to the story than you know.” Dad is scowling when he looks at me, especially since he actually believes we’d spend all these weeks together and that I would never learn the truth. “You should wait in the car.”

“Gladly.” The coward won’t look up from the hands folded in his lap. I have to bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood in my mouth. Otherwise, I might do something unforgivable, like beg him to look at me one more time. I might have had no other choice except to tell him in detail what he did to me. How he made me feel safe and whole and wanted again – and how he ruined it all.He ruined everything.

He ruined me. No matter how tempting it is to punish myself, I'm not alone in this. He played a part, knowing what I’ve been through and turning his back on me after he got what he wanted. The bastard.

“Bye, I guess.” I have to get out of here. I can’t breathe, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep from crying much longer. As it is, the front door goes blurry before I’m outside on the porch. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Mrs. Cooper, did I? One more thing he took from me. And for a second, I consider going over and saying goodbye—then stop myself. Dad is the man she saw the night Romero left. She might recognize him. He wouldn’t like that.

I doubt he would hurt an innocent old woman, but then again, there’s a lot I don’t know about him. A lot he doesn’t want me to know.

And it’s not like I can’t relate, considering there’s plenty about me he can never know.

He could never know I fell in love.

And he can never know that if Romero asked me to stay with him here and now, I wouldn’t think twice before saying yes. That’s how completely screwed up I am.

I would still say yes.

CHAPTER31

ROMERO

My footsteps ring out in the otherwise silent house as I head to the kitchen to shut my growling stomach up. There’s hardly any sign of life now that I’m on my own–nothing but the light over the stove illuminates the first floor now that I’ve come downstairs after work.

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