Death would most definitely be kinder to her than I ever would be.
“It’s your fault. All your fault, and now you dare come here… to Blackthorn?” The words claw from the back of my throat and out of my mouth as I pull her away from the wall just to push her back again. The back of her head bounces off the wall slightly, and her hazel eyes bulge as if she didn’t expect me to do what I just did.
It takes everything in me to not squeeze her throat any harder than I am. I want to hurt her, break her, make her feel my pain, and yet, an invisible rope holds me back, refusing to let me cross that line.
Why is she here?
“I didn’t know,” she whimpers, her entire body trembling. The last thing I want to hear is her excuses. Nothing she ever says will bring my sister back. Nothing will make all the wrongs right. We are trapped in this fucked up world together, and if it wasn’t for Kennedy making such a stupid choice that night, my sister would be here. But she isn’t, and because of that, I’m no longer the good boy with a heart of gold. I’m no longer kind and gracious. That guy died the day my sister did. Now, I take from women, and fuck and drink until I can escape the pain. The pain that she caused. It would be so easy to end this, but again my body refuses to let me.
“Shut up,” I growl, leaning into her face.
My entire body is shaking now, and I don’t know what I’ll do next. Part of me wants to hurt her now, end it, but the rational part of my brain knows I could make her life worse in other ways. I could make her suffer, elongate her pain. It’d bring me more pleasure that way...
“Stop!” A scream pierces the air and fogs around my head. Shock splinters through both Kennedy and me at the sound. Turning to look at the newcomer, I find a woman, roughly the same age as us, and most likely a student here. She’s staring, watching us.
Fuck. I know I have to let Kennedy go. This chick has seen me, and if I don’t go now, I’ll have to explain myself, and I’m not fucking doing that, so reluctantly, I release my hold on her throat and take a step back. My eyes remain on the unknown woman, who is watching me with a simmering rage in her eyes. I could tell the girl to go away, that everything is fine, but maybe this is fate’s way of saying that’s enough for today.
Clenching my fists, I force myself to take another step back, going in the opposite direction of where I want to go. Kennedy remains against the brick wall, her body shaking like a leaf in the wind. I’ve delivered my message, and hopefully, she’ll take it, digest it and get the fuck out of here before it’s too late, because if she doesn’t… I can’t even think of how badly the repercussions are going to be for her.
With one last lingering look at Kennedy’s fear-stricken face, I turn and shove my hands into my pockets. I walk down the sidewalk like nothing happened and blend into my surroundings. I don’t turn around or even glance over my shoulder as I walk. I doubt Kennedy is stupid enough to follow me, and that girl, what could she possibly say?
With every step I take, my thoughts become a little clearer, and my plot for revenge thickens. I won’t convince her to leave, no, I’ll make her stay. A smile pulls at my lips, but it doesn’t feel right. Deep down, I’m not a bad person, but for my sister, for her memory, I’ll be whatever I need to be. Kennedy had better watch her back because I won’t just rip her to pieces. I’ll destroy her, tear her apart, and watch from the sidelines with a smile as she begs me to stop.
2
Kennedy
The nightmares find me like a beacon of light after my interaction with Jackson. Never in a million years did I think I would see him again. Least of all here. Not that Blackthorn isn’t a good university to attend, it’s just not one that I thought he would’ve chosen for himself. He always talked about going to Berkley, so how he ended up here, I don’t know. Well, I kind of do, but I loathe thinking about it.
I do my best not to think of him or the way he looks at me. Angry, dark, and completely lost. My heart thuds deep in my chest. He hates me, maybe just as much as I hate him. I’ve always known that Jillian’s death was my fault, but it was Jackson’s fault just as much.
He should have been there at the party in the first place. If he would’ve been there, everything would have been different. She would still be alive… I would be… I can’t finish the thought without wanting to vomit.
He looked just like he did the day I left, just more mature. His eyes the most vivid green, his mousy brown hair tousled like he ran his fingers through it. I could feel every hard inch of his body as he pressed me against the brick wall.
Thinking back on the other day and how I reacted, he probably thought I was scared to see him. Which I was, but only because I knew seeing him would bring up a plethora of unwanted feelings. I’m not scared of him. There is no pain he can inflict on me greater than the pain I’m already inflicting on myself.
Stop. Don’t think of him. I feel myself slipping down the dark tunnel and into the abyss. The events of that night will never leave me, but I’ve learned that I can’t hold onto them if I want to be present in the world.
I don’t deserve to be here, but my therapist and parents are pushing me. Claiming it’s time, time to move on, time to let go of the pain… Time. Such a funny word. Time couldn’t heal wounds as deep as mine. It couldn’t make the nightmares go away.
I make it to creative writing 101 early. The class is still empty, which means I get to snatch the best seats by the window. This is only the second week of classes, but I already love this class. Last week we discussed one of my favorite books, and since I love writing, the homework was fun instead of annoying. There is not much in my life that still gives me joy. Reading and writing are part of those very few.
Getting my reading material and notebook out, I go over my paper in my head. The teacher, Mrs. Jarrid, walks in shortly after, taking her seat up front. Students slowly filter into the class, but I barely pay them any attention, immersing myself in my paper. I make some final notes and changes when suddenly my hand stills, and the pencil tip stops moving across the paper mid-sentence. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and my chest tightens.
“You heard me, move. I’m gonna sit here now.” Jackson’s dark voice pierces through the air leaving goosebumps behind on my arm.
I glance up and twist around, watching him settle into the seat behind me. The guy who was sitting there a moment ago walks away while shaking his head.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper over my shoulder.
Why the hell is he here?
“Oh, me?” he questions innocently. Leaning in, so only I can hear him, he whispers, “I’m just here to make sure your life is miserable.” A sinister smile splits his face before he straightens back up, dismissing me completely. Turning back around in my seat, I feel the need to barf.
The class I loved last week becomes one I’m barely able to stand. It has nothing to do with the material or the teacher and everything to do with the person sitting behind me. I can feel his eyes on me, and even though he hasn’t said a word or moved, I know he is staring at me, watching me.
My body is stiff and rigid as I sit in the chair, trying my best to make it through class, which is much harder than I ever could’ve imagined.