Before (After, #5)

by Anna Todd

The only thing he liked to do was read page after page of his books. He waited for Vance to bring them by: one a week, sometimes more, sometimes less.

So then..... not one a week?

He was good at hurting people, at causing mischief. He hurt another girl, like the one before, and he felt that same storm coursing up and down his spine, fighting to destroy his life with its wild energy. He began drinking the way his dad did, being the worst type of hypocrite. He didn’t care, though; he was numb and he had friends and they helped him ignore the fact that he didn’t have anything real in his life. Nothing really mattered. Not even the girls who tried to get through to him.

You are such a drama queen

Natalie

Cool a new perspective. Wooo.

What he did to her was the last straw for his mother. Shipping him to America, to the state of Washington, to be with his would-be father, his treatment of Natalie got him exiled from his London homeland. The loneliness he’d felt all along was finally achieved in real life.

Play stupid games....

The church is packed today, rows and rows of us, all joined together to worship on a hot July afternoon. Every week, usually the same people, all of whom I can call by their first and last names.

Is this not pretty normal for a church

Her fingernails are painted pink to match the bow in her dark brown hair, but boy, can she be destructive.

What

During the drive home, I sit in the backseat with Cecily, drawing little butterflies in her favorite coloring book while my dad talks to my mum about the raccoon problem we’ve been having in our bins out back.

Yeah except the UK does not have raccoons.

I turn the volume up and sing along to every song on my way to the center of the city.

Hampstead is not city

His hair is dark, grown down the sides, leaving a swoop of hair across his forehead.

Omg Mark the scene kid

“I’m here from Hempstead

Bitch where ARE WE??? Hampstead is in London and Hempstead is in Kent. PICK ONE

I stop because the charming one with the pink lips is deep in discussion, whispering with his friends in a voice that is too low for me to hear. Then they stop, and the boys stare at me all at once, three smiles in a row.

Girl run

He turns to his friend with the giant ship tattooed on his biceps. “Hardin, how many cans are over there?” Hardin? What a very strange name; I’ve never heard it before.

IT'S NOT A NAME

Mark scratches his smooth jaw. “If you go out on two dates with my friend Hardin here, I’ll give you ten gallons of paint.”

This feels like the worst trade ever

His slightly feminine features make him more attractive than his black clothing or messy hair.

Ooh don't let Hardin hear you call him feminine

I smile and list the colors I need for the pews, the walls, the stairs, all the while pretending that I’m not already anticipating my date with Hardin, the guarded, messy-haired boy who’s so innocent and shy that he’s willing to trade ten gallons of paint for one date.

Oh girl

Molly

Literally just highlightimg to keep my notes straight

I’d taken the train to downtown hoping to accomplish… something.

Downtown where?

The streets are dark, and this zigzag alley is located behind one of the richest parts of Philadelphia.

Philadelphia! Thank you.

“You want to go for a ride?” the man asks as his automatic window rolls down with a smooth whir.

Has she never seen a car window before

“He was my son,” she says. “So don’t you sit here and act like you have more of a reason to be hurt than me. I lost a child—my only child—and now I’m sitting here watching you, sweet Molly, who I’ve watched grow up, get lost, too—and I’m not going to be quiet anymore. You need to get your butt into college, get out of this town just like you and Curtis planned on. Get on with life. It’s what we all have to do. And if I can do it, hard as it is, you sure as hell can, too.”

Okay Molly's boyfriend died

But I was driving that car.

Molly, noo

Mrs. Garrett touches the tips of my pink hair with a cautious finger. “Dipping your head in pink food coloring won’t change anything that happened.” I smile at her choice of words and say the first thing that comes to mind. “I didn’t dye my hair because I watched your son bleed out in front of me,” I snap, remembering the way the deep pink dye resembled blood as I rinsed it down the drain.

Dang girl

“I have a friend with some clout out west in Washington.” I had almost forgotten where I was, my mind reliving every shitty experience in my life in less than ten minutes. “I could ask him if he could pull some strings and get you into a good school there.

Sorry does EVERYONE know Ken??

It’s possible that I could make friends, too. My pink hair might not be so intimidating to people in a town with some sophistication.

Calling Ellensburg sophisticated is fucking egregious

I won’t take trains to shady parts of town in Washington.

True, there are no trains.

Melissa

WHO THE FUCK IS MELISSA

He met her brother first and spent nights getting drunk with him, getting to know him and learning just what a terrible person the guy was. Her brother was a snake, slithering through the campus like it was his personal hunting ground, picking and choosing his prey.

Ohhhh, Dan's sister

This filth had to be knocked down, and his sister was nothing but a causality of war.

Tf is this shit

I realize I’ll just be an interruption and give my dad’s young girlfriend more of a reason to complain about me. Tasha is only three years older than me and has been seeing my dad for over a year now.

Big yikes

I would be a little more understanding if I hadn’t gone to high school with her and didn’t remember how bitchy she was.

Oh no

I text Dan. He’s been dating a girl I went to high school with. She, unlike me, is still in high school.

Uhhhhhh

I climb into the backseat to find a guy with dark, wavy hair hiding his face. It’s swept to the side in a weird emo way, but it matches perfectly with the piercings in his eyebrow and lip.

Omg HARDIN is the scene kid

“Who was the guy in the backseat?” I ask him. His expression changes. “Who, Hardin?” He’s not happy that I asked. And Hardin? What kind of name is that?

IT IS NOT A NAME

Yep, definitely an English accent. I want to comment on it, but I know how annoying it is when people point out how you talk. I get it all the time.

Wait why how do you talk

The whiskey burns as bright as his eyes… And I have the feeling that Hardin is made of gasoline.

This is so fucking stupid

Steph

Are we just running through all the girls Hardin has banged?

My dad is home late from work again. He’s been late every night, and I was supposed to be able to use his car to pick up my prom dress this week.

Aw baby Steph

part two DURING

Okay

He was set to steal another innocence, to ruin another girl’s life. It won’t be so bad this time, he figured. He wouldn’t go to the same extremes as before. This was different, more juvenile. This was all just in fun. And it was, until the wind caught her hair and it whipped around her face. Until the gray of her eyes haunted his sleep and the pink of her lips drove him mad. He was falling hard for her—at first it was so fast that he wasn’t sure if he was actually feeling it or imagining it. But he felt it… he felt it rip through him like the roar of a lion. He began to rely on her for his every breath, every thought.

Ugh

His love for her burned brighter than any star, and he would highlight passages from ten thousand of her favorite novels to show her that.

Yes, that will make up for all the abuse

“Are you almost done?” Pink hair and swollen lips look up at me from between my legs. I had nearly forgotten she was here.

Sir

“You know…” Molly reaches for her purse and pulls out a tube of dark lipstick. “You could at least pretend to be interested, asshole.”

Girl if he's not interested, stop sucking his dick

My fingers trace over the dusty shelves of my bookcase. I can’t decide which novel I feel like living right now… Hemingway, maybe? He can give me a good dose of cynical. The middle Brontë sister? I could use a dysfunctional bullshit love story right now. I grab Wuthering Heights and kick my boots off before lying down in my bed.

Literally none of this is believable

I want to feel something while I’m reading, and sappy, roses-and-sunshine novels make me want to vomit on their pages and burn away the evidence afterward.

Is that not feeling something tho

He grasps for the memories of those days now, as he sits alone, trapped by his own mistakes. These memories of his anger, of her anger, are a few of the only things that kept him afloat after she left him.

Where tf did she go??

And I fought her help. Every step of the way. I wouldn’t accept it then and still won’t accept it now. Not from her, not from anyone.

You're so cool

“Hey, you Steph’s roomie?” Nate says, and I finally get a good look at the girl. She’s decent enough:

DECENT ENOUGH

Because going to a store is so much fun. I bet she shops at fucking Target; she seems like the type.

Gtfo with your Target slander

Her khaki shorts are still too long, but you can’t win ’em all.

Khaki shorts???? Jfc Tessa

“You do know that we’re going to a party, not a church—right, Theresa?” I say as she climbs into the car. “Please don’t call me Theresa. I prefer Tessa,” she says succinctly. Snobbily. I knew her name would be Theresa. I’ve read enough novels to put that together.

???? Tessa is a real name though???