My eyes burn into the side of Asher’s head, flashes of that night flickering on repeat in my head. The night Asher killed Nate is a night that I’ll never escape, no matter how hard I try. The fucked up part is that I bet anything Asher doesn’t even realize he’s responsible, doesn’t even understand how much blood is on his hands. Or maybe he does and doesn’t care. My blood begins to boil, hatred gnawing at every fiber of my body. It would be all too easy to reach inside my boot, grab my knife and stab the piece of fucking shit in the neck. I know I can’t, though, and the reason I can’t is the
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