Twisted Hate (Twisted, #3)

by Ana Huang

Every smile, every laugh, and every conversation chipped away at the image I’d constructed of her in my mind until I was left with someone I didn’t know but couldn’t bear to let go of.

Love

I didn’t know when I stopped hating Jules and started craving her. All I knew was that I did, and I never wanted to go back.

I didn’t know what I wanted from her, but I knew I wanted her. I knew she haunted my thoughts and invaded my dreams until she was the only thing I could see. And I knew that being with her was one of the few times I truly felt alive.

“Because you’re mine,” I said against her mouth. “Let another man touch you, Jules, and you’ll find out just how easily I can take a man’s life as I can save one.”

Jules never talked about her family, so I assumed she had a fraught relationship with her mother, but her mom was still her mom.

Grief wasn’t one emotion; it was a hundred emotions wrapped in a dark shroud.

My chest glowed at her soft laugh. Two laughs in less than an hour. I viewed that as a win.

There were some days when the only real food I ate was in the school cafeteria, and many days when I would come home, terrified that would be the day we got evicted.”

When it came to monsters who preyed on young girls or anyone I cared about, I didn’t give a shit about the law. The law wasn’t always justice.

“Communication is a two-way street.”

Some of my anger faded, replaced by a deep ache for the little girl who’d only wanted her mother’s love. “She could’ve contacted you too. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

“Comfort food,” I explained, removing the takeout boxes from the bags. Macaroni and cheese. Tomato soup. Salted caramel cheesecake. Her favorites.

She wore an old Thayer tee of mine that skimmed her thighs, and her damp hair hung in dark red waves around her shoulders. Of all my favorite sights in the world—the Washington Monument at sunrise, the autumnal blaze of leaves during a New England fall, the expanse of ocean and jungle laid out before me at the end of a long hike in Brazil—Jules wearing my shirt might just be my number one.

But I was so tired of running. So tired of fighting the world and myself at the same time, of pretending everything was okay when I struggled just to keep my head above water. It was okay to reach for a life raft, no matter what form it came in.

Her looks hadn’t changed drastically over the years, but something had changed. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Before, Jules was beautiful in the way grass was green and oceans were deep. It was a fact of life, but not something that particularly touched me. Now, she was beautiful in a way that made me want to drown in her, to let her fill every inch of my soul until she fucking consumed me. It didn’t matter if it killed me, because in a world where I was surrounded by death, she was the only thing that made me feel alive.

Our first impressions stick with us the longest, but contrary to popular opinion, some people do change. The only problem is, they change faster than our prejudices do.

“The monsters in our imagination are often worse than those in reality.”

I didn’t know how I ever thought Jules was insufferable, because as it turned out, she was pretty damn extraordinary.

Sometimes, you had to take a leap or risk getting stuck forever.

“Speaking of, why do guys always put fishing pictures in their dating profile? It’s a turnoff, honestly.” “I don’t, and you don’t have to worry about that.” “Why not?” “Because neither of us are dating anyone else, Red,” Josh said, so calm and matter of fact the words etched themselves into my skin as truth.

I once read somewhere that the opposite of love wasn’t hate, it was indifference. The flames of hate and passion burned in equal measure.

I couldn’t pinpoint the specific moment my feelings toward Josh changed. I didn’t even know what my current feelings toward him were, exactly. All I knew was, he set me ablaze, and I never wanted the fire to go out.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my dick mutinied before then. Just up and jumped ship due to sheer neglect.

Man, fuck having a best friend. They were overrated know-it-alls.

over. “I appreciate all you did for me as a kid.” My hands formed white-knuckled fists under the table. “But being a parent is about more

than providing basic necessities. It’s about trust and love.

But it was suddenly, blindingly clear that while he could mimic love, he couldn’t actually feel it.

At some point, we had to let go of who a person used to be or who they could be and see them for who they really were.

I had closure, but no one told me closure was such a bitch. It clawed at my bones and ripped a bloody gash through my heart until every breath became a battle.

Because even though pain hurt like a motherfucker, it proved you were still alive, and it was only after it faded that you could finally heal.

ready. It’s not just about the confrontation. It’s about giving yourself time to prepare. Figure out what you want.”

Sometimes, the only way to purge the emotional was through the physical. Catharsis in its rawest form.

“Good girl.” He smoothed my hair back from my forehead and gave me a lingering kiss. “You did so well.”

“I don’t like sharing.” “Sharing is a virtue, Josh.” “I don’t give a flying fuck. I don’t share. Not when it comes to you.”

I didn’t make a habit of trusting many people. I could count the number of people I truly trusted on one hand, and I never thought Josh would be one of them. But life had a way of blindsiding us, and for once, I didn’t mind.

But it felt good to trust someone enough to rely on them, and to have them trust you enough to turn to you when they were having a bad day.

we always found people more desirable when other people found them desirable—but

When someone trusted you, you didn’t have to work that hard to slip past their defenses.

Somehow, she’d gone from the last person I wanted to be around to the first person I turned to when I needed comfort or just someone to talk to.

“It’s easy to get caught up in old habits and hurts, but you’ll never be happy chasing things that no longer exist. It’s time to move on from the past.

How could you build a relationship on a foundation of lies? The answer: you couldn’t.

Moving on from the past didn’t mean burying it beneath a new foundation and hoping no one found it; it meant exposing the ugliness to the light and taking responsibility.

You couldn’t heal from something if you didn’t acknowledge it.

Every puzzle piece that shaped our relationship into what it was now, tainted. It wasn’t about the size of Jules’s lies. I didn’t give two fucks about a stupid painting and some gadgets. It was about trust. All I’d ever wanted was honesty, and all I’d ever gotten was deception.

“Remember when I said I forgive

Hurt

you?”

“I li...

Remember when I said I forgive you? I lied. I stumbled toward the metro, Josh’s words echoing in my brain like an endless taunt. Remember when I said I forgive you? I lied. When I said I forgive you? I lied. Forgive you? I lied. I lied. I lied.

People said to have loved and lost was better than never having loved at all.

Something warm and wet trickled down my cheek. Its saltiness teased my lips, and I realized I was crying again. Unlike my earlier sobs, these tears didn’t make a sound. They were quiet screams trapped in my chest, burrowing into my bones and suffocating me.