Cruel Kisses (It's Just High School #2) - Thandiwe Mpofu Page 0,85
bothering to strip me down.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t be the one who tells you that you saw my slashed wrists and the cuts on my arms and now, you’re looking at me with so much sympathy in your eyes, it’s making me feel all rotten inside.”
“What the fuck?” he exclaims, reeling back like I just slapped him across the face. “I’m not made of fucking granite, Mia, contrary to popular belief, I’m human. I feel shit and when it comes to you, I feel the messed up, complicated stuff I’m still navigating, and none of that shit includes a drop of disgust.” He stares at me with disbelief. “When I look at you, I see us. I see the future we’re going to have.”
That makes me freeze.
“The future we’re going to have?” I whisper, in shock. How can he be this cruel about the situation we’re in?
“Yes, our fucking future, it’s still on, Mia!” he seethes. “And just because my mother told you some shit doesn’t change a fact.” He grabs my hand again, exposing the cuts. “This also doesn’t change anything either.”
I see it on his face, what he refuses to say out loud and my heart just drops and shatters to the floor between us. It’s right there and I can’t take it any longer.
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” I say in a rush, feeling like I’m about to pass out at the rate my heart is thundering in my chest. “I swear, Julian, I didn’t—”
“How the hell do you to that?” he groans. “Look in my face and lie?”
“I’m not—” I start to defend myself, but he grabs my hand, holding it firm and looks down at the several scratches there, some made by the broken ceramic vase I used at the hotel, others by my own nails when I punctured myself, just to draw blood and feel better.
“Why, Mia?” he questions, sounding in that moment not angry, not pissed off or scared, but understanding. The tone of his voice shocks me so much that for a moment, I just stare at him, not knowing what to say. “Tell me.”
“I…” I trail off, tears welling in my eyes. How do I explain this? How do I tell him about the monsters that love to torment me at all hours of the day?
How do I tell him about the whispers? The voices? The screams lodged in my throat from nightmares that chase after me in the dark?
Nightmares about a little girl whose face I can’t see?
How do I begin to tell him that I feel guilty and I hate myself so much sometimes the pressure of it is too much, I feel like I might self-combust with the weight of it all? How do I tell him that?
“Talk to me, Mia,” he says, his gaze penetrating into me, but I just… I can’t do this with him. Because I can’t face the truth myself, let alone speak it out loud.
“It’s none of your damn business,” I whisper, my throat tingling with unshed tears. “I didn’t ask you to roll up my sleeves or follow me or butt into my business, so get out of my way and back off.”
God… how big of a bitch do I have to be to say something like that? Oh yeah, me. This bitch who killed her mother.
Julian doesn’t say anything as I quickly put on my shoes, finger brush my hair and tie it into a messy bun, then I grab my backpack and make my way downstairs, back to my seat where I ignore every inquisitive eye and strap in, looking out the window, but not seeing how beautiful Paris is.
I don’t see anything, but Julian when he comes to take his seat beside me. I can feel him bristling with anger, but he doesn’t look at me reminding me again of how toxic he and I are together. Urgh, this is so fucked.
When we land, I ignore Julian as best as I can, but he silently follows me, not saying a word, mad as hell, watching my every move.
This is totally making my heart fucking ache, especially knowing that he knows I stooped so low and hurt myself, repeatedly.
I can’t even look him in the eye, feeling like I don’t deserve the understanding and love I see mixed with the frustration and anger.
Which means, I don’t deserve him. Whatever’s going on between us, I know I don’t deserve his attention or his love like this. And now,