“Yeah, I know you did, lad,” he replied, clapping my shoulder in support. “But I’m not as thick as those bastards.”
Well, shit.
“I know you’re putting on a brave face right now, lad, and fair play to ya, but we’ve known each other since baby infants, and you’ve always been a good friend to me, so I just felt like I needed to tell ya that I’ll have your back over Pierce’s any day of the week.”
“Cheers, Lukey,” I replied, forcing myself to keep the head. “I really appreciate it, lad, but I don’t want her to get any hassle over this.” Exhaling a heavy sigh, I added, “We all have school together and play on the same team, so I’m going to take the high road on this one.”
“Then you’re a better man than him,” he replied, squeezing my shoulder. “And you deserve better.”
I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY
Lizzie
DECEMBER 12, 2003
THIS WAS A BAD IDEA FROM THE GET-GO.
I shouldn’t have come.
But here I was.
Fucking up another important night of his life.
Because this was Hugh’s night, not mine.
He was the one celebrating their team’s win, not me.
But when Pierce invited me, I honestly couldn’t give up the chance to see him again. A part of me wanted to spy on him, to see if he had moved on, to break my own fucking heart. Because if he was moving on, then I needed to witness it. Maybe then I could get some sleep at night. Maybe I wouldn’t keep choking on my regret.
I was drunk.
I knew I was, but the alcohol running through my veins had nothing to do with my actions.
I couldn’t blame the vodka for my following Pierce upstairs, nor could I blame the shots for the other parts.
No, it was all me.
Something was broken inside of me, had been since Caoimhe died, maybe even before it, and I was drowning in the aftermath.
Lying down on the mattress, I let the boy I’d ruined my life with do what he wanted to my body.
When he was finished with me, he climbed off the bed, zipped up his jeans, offered me a half-hearted stroke on the cheek, anddisappeared back downstairs to his friends, leaving me alone in my thoughts, in my turmoil.
Feeling used and dirty, I quickly grabbed my clothes and bolted into the adjoining bathroom.
The moment I had the lock turned on the door, I sank to the floor in a heap, letting the scalding tears assault my cheekbones.
Fighting back the urge to scream, I bit down hard on my fist and slammed the back of my head against the door repeatedly.
I needed the pain.
It was the only thing that tuned out the noise. Because the noise in my head hurt so much more than any physical pain I could endure.
It wasn’t enough.
Nothing seemed to be enough.
All I had was images.
