How Sinners Fight - Eva Ashwood Page 0,24

a logical level, so how could I possibly paint them as anything but vague shapes and shadows imbued with emotion?

“You don’t have to go back to school when spring semester starts.” Gray’s voice startles me out of my thoughts, jumping topics again. “You know… you’re still recovering from your injury. And after all the bullshit at Hawthorne, maybe it’s better for you to go somewhere else.”

I crane my neck a little to look over at him, surprised. I know he’s saying it out of a caring place in his heart, if that’s even a thing, but for some reason, his words make me tense. I don’t like the idea of running, any more than I like the idea of being trapped. Neither one sits well with me, which is why I ended up beating the shit out of Cliff when he attacked me in that alley.

My fight-or-flight instinct is obviously heavily weighted toward fight.

“No. I want to go back.” I shake my head firmly. “I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come here in the first place, and you’re right—there’s been a lot of bullshit that’s come with being at Hawthorne.” I don’t mention that Gray was the instigator of some of that bullshit. It’s over now. He’s on my side, just like the other two Sinners are. “But I don’t want to run. I want to finish what I started, you know?”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just nuzzles his face against my shoulder, breathing me in. My mind starts to drift to other subjects, like whether I could sneak out and get a gift for Gray since I didn’t get him anything for Christmas, but then he continues.

“I could help you find a better place,” he says sincerely. Almost encouragingly. “A place where you could study art, where you could focus on that. A place where you could fit in better. Not,” he adds quickly, “that you’re not good enough for Hawthorne. But are we really good enough for you? Wouldn’t you like being around other people who are more your type? Not bitchy social climbers like Caitlin, but people who think like you. Wouldn’t that be more worth it?”

The way he says it, the conviction in his voice—it makes me hesitate for just a second. It sounds like he’s thought this out before now. It’s not an idea that just came to him as we’ve been lying here on the kitchen floor, and the hint of worry in his voice makes me realize how much he cares. This is important to him.

I open my mouth to respond, then pause. A prickly feeling is crawling up my spine, and I don’t really know what to say.

“It wouldn’t be a failure on your part, Sparrow,” Gray adds, his voice low and intense. “Leaving the school would just mean leaving for a place that was better for you. Not failing yourself or any of us.”

“I don’t think—”

I start to speak again, but before I can finish the sentence, my jaw snaps shut.

My muscles lock up.

Doctor Cohen said that anything could trigger a wave of lost memories. He said that they would likely eventually come back, because it was only short term memory loss. I’ve had doctors give me all kinds of empty platitudes about the holes in my memory before, so I didn’t believe him.

But in one rush, like an impact to my body that sends me flying backward, like getting hit by a fucking truck, the memories do come.

They rush through me in a torrent, blazing through my mind.

I remember walking up the stairs at the party. I don’t remember why I went up to the second floor, but I do remember what I heard behind the closed doors. I remember recognizing the muffled voice as Gray’s, even though I didn’t know who he was speaking too.

She’ll be gone by next semester anyway. I’ve got it handled, all right?

There’s nothing special about her. She’s not fucking worth it.

It won’t be hard.

I don’t remember how I got back down to the first floor or how I fell down the stairs into the basement. That entire part of the night is still shrouded in darkness.

But I sure as hell remember those words, as clear as the fucking sunlight shining down on my now chilled body. Disgust and revulsion fill me. I want to tear myself away from Gray’s hold, but the other half of me…

I don’t want to believe it. I don’t fucking want to believe it.

Gray catches the change