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Being a bitch could be a survival technique. They get respect. There was no honor in people thinking you were a slut.
She broke my nose and kicked me in the balls.
I wanted to bring this guy’s head down on my knee hard enough to sprout blood flow that would rival Niagara Falls.
“You’re a miserable piece of shit, Jared. But then, I guess I’d be miserable, too, if my parents hated me. Your dad left you, and your mom avoids you. But who can blame them, right?”
“Everything is more beautiful in the rain. Don’t ask me why.”
“You were my tempest, my thunder cloud, my tree in the downpour. I loved all of those things, and I loved you. But now? You’re a fucking drought. I thought that all the assholes drove German cars, but it turns out that pricks in Mustangs can still leave scars.”
I noticed what Jared had hung on his rearview mirror. I reached out and grabbed the oval shaped piece of clay, secured by a light green ribbon.
“You were never clingy or a nuisance, Tate. The day you moved in next door I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I fucking loved you.”
Yesterday lasts forever. Tomorrow comes never. Until you.
“I love you more than myself, more than my own family, for Christ’s sake. I don’t want to take another step in this world without you next to me,” he said softly.
I used to love people. I loved being a part of things and socializing. Now, I only wanted to be alone. Because alone was the only way I felt safe.
