Who the fuck is she to judge me? I did what I had to do.
I grab a towel from my duffel bag, having just gotten done with basketball practice before picking up Rika, and laid the dog on it. Taking out another towel, I wipe up the small amount of blood on my hands and then lay that on top of him as well, shutting the back hatch.
Climbing back in the car, I start the engine as Rika opens up the passenger door and plops down, not saying a word to me.
I speed off, gripping the steering wheel, and her silence is as loud as my father’s insults and berating.
I did what was right. Screw you. I don’t fucking care what you think.
I breathe hard, getting angrier by the second.
“You think that the vet who put your cat to sleep a year ago is any better?” I charge, shooting her glares as I watch the road. “Huh?”
Her lips tighten, and I can see the tears pooling again. “You did it with your hands,” she cries, turning to me and yelling. “You killed him yourself, and I could never have done that!”
“And that’s why you’ll always be weak,” I throw back. “You know why most people in the world are unhappy, Rika? Because they don’t have the courage to do the one thing that will change their lives. That animal was in misery, and you were in misery watching it. Now he’s not suffering anymore.”
“I’m not weak,” she argues, but her chin trembles anyway. “And what you did didn’t make me happy. It didn’t make me feel any better.”
I smile nastily. “You think I’m bad? You think less of me? Well, guess what? I don’t give a fuck what you think! You’re a thirteen-year-old piece of baggage my family has to look after that’s going to turn into nothing but an eighteen-year-old copy of your drunk mother!”
Her eyes flood, and she looks about ready to break.
“Only you probably won’t be able to land a rich husband with that scar,” I growl.
She sucks in a breath, looking stunned. Her face cracks, and her body racks with sobs. She grabs the door handle and begins yanking and pulling it, trying to get out of the car.
“Rika!” I yell.
I’m going sixty-fucking-miles an hour!
I dart my hand over, grabbing her wrists and swerving the car off to the side, screeching to a halt.
She fumbles, unlocking the door, and jumps out, running away into the trees.
I put the car in neutral and set the parking brake, pushing open the door and jumping out.
“Get back in the car!” I yell, slamming the door shut.
She swings around. “No!”
I run after her. “Where the hell do you think you’re going? I got shit to do! I don’t have time for this!”
“I’m going to see my dad,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’ll walk home.”
“Like hell you will. Get in the damn car and stop pissing me off.”
“Leave me alone!”
I stop, fuming. The cemetery is right over the hill, but it’s pitch black outside.
I shake my head, backing away. “Fine!” I bark. “Go visit your dad, then!”
Spinning around, I storm for my car and climb in, leaving her out there.
Turning on the engine, I hesitate for a moment. It’s dark. And she’s alone.
Fuck it. If she wants to be a brat, then it isn’t my fault.
I put it into gear and speed down the road, heading straight to my house.
Leaving the car running, I hop out and walk to the garden shed, digging out a shovel and going back to my car.
My ears turn cold from the October chill, but the rest of my body is still on fire from the fight.
She looked at me just like my father always did. As if everything I do is wrong.
I bottle up what’s inside me—the anger and this need I can’t explain. Something inside of me wants to self-destruct, wants to make messes, and wants to do the things others won’t do.
I don’t want to hurt people, but the more time that passes, the more it feels like I’m trying to crawl out of my head.
I want chaos.
And I’m tired of being powerless. I’m tired of him keeping me down.
I tried to do the hard thing today. The thing no one else would do but had to be done.
And she’d looked at me just like him. Like there was something wrong with me.
Tossing the shovel in the car, I race down the driveway and make my way to the only place I can think of.
St. Killian’s.
Pulling up outside the old cathedral, I keep the headlights on and walk around to the side, starting to dig the hole. The dog hadn’t had a collar, and it can’t stay exposed long enough for me to find its owner, so I have to bury it.
And this is the one place I like, so it makes sense to do it here.
After digging the hole about two feet deep, I return to my car and open the back door, hearing notifications from my cell phone up on the front seat.
The guys are probably wondering where the hell I am.