my back all over again.
I stand in the middle of the empty park, my breathing harsh. My face burns, but it’s nothing compared to the thing clawing and beating inside me.
It needs to be out.
Throwing my head back, I stare at the dark grey sky and scream.
I scream so loud, I think someone will call 999.
I scream for all of the accumulating emotions and the pain, none of it having to do with the burning bruises Elsa left on my face.
I scream because the option of going to another country is impossible. No matter how much I theorise about it.
Mum, Papa, Helen, and all my life are here. Even the bastard, Cole.
I place a hand on my stomach and let the tears loose. The thought of getting rid of the baby rips a harsh sob out of me.
It’s weird how I haven’t even taken a test, and yet, I somehow feel it. It could be my imagination, right? I could be making up a pregnancy because I’m going out of my mind.
Or it could be real and I’ll have to deal with it.
On one hand, I have my family, my future — our future. Cole and I are eighteen. We still haven’t gotten a proper start into life. We still have our entire futures ahead of us. I’ll never be able to go into politics if I become a teen mum — or worse, go through childbirth before marriage.
Aiden is out. I know his limit is to stay engaged to me. He’ll never — and I mean, ever — hurt Elsa by taking responsibility for the baby.
Worse, Cole and I are stepsiblings. He can’t take responsibility, even if he wants to. Our world doesn’t work that way.
On the other hand, there’s a life growing inside me. Little hands and feet. A human being. How will I ever live with myself if I murder it? How will I have a future? How will I wake up every day and pretend I’m not a killer?
I scream again, the intensity popping my ears. There’s so much pent-up frustration inside me, broken pieces and wishes for an alternative reality.
A shadow appears in my peripheral vision and I jump back, my heart stammering in my chest. If it’s Adam, I swear to God —
“You’re kind of predictable, Butterfly. The park, really?”
Cole comes into view and pauses when he notices the tears in my eyes, the way my hands are balled into fists, my trembling lips, and the general mess I’m in the midst of.
His brow furrows. “Why are you crying?”
“Why am I crying?” I hit his chest. “Why am I fucking crying? Fuck you, Cole, okay? It’s all because of you.”
He lets me hit him, curse him, and doesn’t attempt to stop me. “Correction, Silver. It’s because of you. You shouldn’t have provoked Elsa. You knew she’d snap one day.”
He thinks it’s because of Elsa? I hit him over and over again. Hit. Hit. Hit. “Idiot. Wanker. Bastard. I hate you. If it weren’t for you, none of this would’ve happened. You barged into my life and invaded my space and now…now look at this mess!”
“I barged in?” He grabs both my hands, forcing me to stop, but he doesn’t yank them away from his chest. “I did it? How about you? Why the fuck did you have to be here that day? Why did you jump me, push me to the bench, and cry your glitter tears on me? Why did you refuse to let me go and promise me your firsts? If you want to blame anyone, blame yourself. You made me obsessed with you to the point I can’t fucking breathe until I see you.”
Oh, God.
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
That’s the first time he’s ever said anything like that to me.
I hiccough, my fingers splaying on his wet shirt, feeling over the muscles of his hard chest. “Cole…”
My voice trails off when I can’t find words to say. Should I be mad or touched right now? Should I kiss him or bite his lip off?
Cole has always been an enigma I couldn’t figure out, even if I tried.
“What?” His voice softens.
“Why did it have to be you?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Stop answering my questions with questions, wanker.”
He strokes my wet hair away from my face and I shiver, then wince when he touches my bruised cheek. “Come take shelter from the rain.”
Cole leads me to his car that is parked nearby. After we slide inside, he brings out a towel from a