Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

I just wanted to be seventeen.

I just wanted to be normal.

I just wanted to make stupid mistakes like everyone else. Mistakes that wouldn’t get me killed. Mistakes that didn’t make me a murderer. Mistakes that didn’t haunt me, hanging like a noose around my neck. Scars made into weapons so I could never forget where they came from.

“She’s gonna be pissed,” Blair was still talking. Talking. Like he could convince me to come home. To come to heel. To be her loyal dog, even now. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair?—

“You’re a coward, Blair,” I hissed out, and then jolted, the words falling like an anvil between us.

Blair flinched.

What little was left of my heart broke then, the second I realized what I’d just done. Because Lydia may have taught me how to load a gun, but I’d never pointed one at Blair before.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was…fuck.

I’m no better than Lydia.

“I’m sorry—” I managed, but Blair was already pulling away. He let go of my shoulder, his expression pinched. His dark hair fell across his brow, and I couldn’t breathe—couldn’t breathe—couldn’t breathe—“I didn’t mean it–”

“I’m gonna go home.”

“I’ll go with you?—”

“Don’t.”

Blair left.

Blair left and he took my beer with him.

And I…watched him go. Because my dumb legs were too wobbly and wouldn’t work—and I felt heavy and scared and shaky and I just…I just…

I hated myself.

I hated myself so much.

So I drank and drank and drank. Until I emptied my stomach into Martha’s bathtub and half the baseball team crowded in the bathroom to make sure I wasn’t dying. I wasn’t—somehow—alcohol poisoning aside. But I wished I was.

I wished I was.

Because living hurt, and this was all my fault—and I hurt Blair and I?—

And I?—

And I?—

I was a monster.

Blair

SOS.

Me

?

Blair