“No, I fucking mean it. This never fucking happened.”
That sentence is a knife to my heart. The disgust on his face is the twist that kills me. He’s the one person I had. The one fucking friend in my corner, who was there for me when I felt all alone. And now he’s looking at me like he doesn’t even know me.
“You need to leave,” he says harshly, not a glint of empathy on his face.
“Ryan—”
“Go, Bodhi!”
Standing on shaky legs, I cross the room, praying he’ll change his mind and stop me before I can leave. He grabs hold of my arm as I pass him, and for a second, I think he will.
“If you tell a single fucking soul about what happened last night, I will deny it and I’ll out you to your dad and to Charles.”
With a rough shove, he sends me on my way. I spend the entire walk home trying to stop myself from sobbing. If I walk into my house with any sort of emotion showing, I’m in for it. The walk is too short, and before I know it, I’m walking through my front door. Dad’s car is gone, Mom is probably with him. Maybe everyone is gone, and I’ll slip under the radar. Sneak into my room and stay there the rest of the weekend.
Except luck is never on my side, is it?
Barreling down the stairs, looking vile as ever, is Charles. One look at me, and his putrid grin spreads. “Well, look who it is,” he sneers. “What’s a matter, baby Bo? You been crying?”
“Leave me alone, Charles,” I mumble, trying to squeeze past him.
He shoves me, my back hitting the wall next to the staircase. “I asked you a fucking question, Bodhi. Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“I said leave me alone!” I shove his chest, screaming in his face like I’ve never done before. Charles narrows his beady eyes, lips pressed into a thin line as he reaches out, grabbing me by the throat and slamming me back against the wall, harder this time.
“I don’t know who you think you are,” he seethes, breath already smelling like tequila blowing in my face. “But you don’t fucking talk to me like that, you little fucking faggot.”
His fingers tighten, cutting my airway off completely. My head gets light, dizzy, and I’m clawing at his wrist, trying to get him to let go.
“Charles… please,” I beg, except no sound comes out. Nothing at all comes out because he’s squeezing me so tight, I wouldn’t be surprised if my eyes popped out of their sockets.
As my vision starts to go dark around the edges, he finally lets me go, my hand darting to rub my throat while I cough and gulp in lungfuls of air.
With a humorless laugh, he pats the side of my face. “Such a fucking pussy.”
And then he’s gone.
I barely make it into my room before I break down. My legs give out, and I collapse onto the hardwood floor.
I can’t keep doing this anymore.
Can’t keep hoping things will get better when they so clearly aren’t going to.
The one person I had wants nothing to do with me. It’s my fault.
Everything is always my fault.
I’ve never been anything more than a letdown. A disappointment. A screw up.
It’s all I’ll ever be.
I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.
I can’t… I just can’t.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jules van der Meer
