What's Enough?

Chapter 158

Ryder POV

"What are you in for?" The white guys across from me ask. "Let me guess," he looks at my shirt and hands and then rubs the stubble on his chin. "Murder," I scoff and shake my head. I wish. "What did you kill the guy?"

"Love? Please say love?" the guys beside him ask, eager to know.

"Does it matter?"

He answers, "Murder is worth it when it for love,"

I'm glad he thinks that. The buff guy sitting in the corner with tattoos all up and down his arm says, "I bet it was love. A girl, right? It's always a girl,"

"It was," Not just any girl.

They all laugh and shake their heads. "Adams, let's go!" The security guard says. I stand up from the metal bench and walk over to the bars, he unlocks the gate, and I walk out.

"Took you long enough!" I growl; it's been hours.

"Be grateful I didn't leave your ass in there," Jacob thanks the officer, and I follow him outside to his car; mine is still at the diner. "You better hope dad does find out; it wouldn't be good for his campaign," he says while turning the car on.

"I don't give a shit," I could care less about my father running for Mayor. Matt got what he deserved; I would've killed him if the cops had never shown up. He was going in and out of consciousness by the time they got there; I hope he dies, I mean it.

I can't believe I actually used to think of him as my best friend. Why would I ever be friends with someone like him? Females he has been with have said before that he was forceful when it came to shit like that, I knew. He even admitted once or twice saying the famous, "She was begging for it," Or "She wanted me to," I fucking knew, and I never did anything about it, until today. This is my fault; maybe if I spoke up earlier and told someone, he would've gotten help, or got locked up, or something. Either way, none of this would have happened.

Jacob laughs in the driver's seat, "What the hell is so funny?"

"This girl has you almost killing people, yet you think a horrible person, she's making you do the same shit, I was "making" you do,"

"It's not the same," Him abusing me all those years and putting it into my ear that I should treat everyone who isn't like us like shit isn't the same as me standing up for someone. "And she didn't make me do anything,"

"Whatever, dude, maybe you should just -"

"Don't talk about her!" I don't want her name coming out of his or anyone's mouth. I don't want anyone to talk about her, talk to her, look at her, even so much as think about her.

We arrive at the dinner before I get out of the car; he says, "I'm just saying, she's going to ruin you,"

"I don't care," I walk away to my car.

I've known since the beginning that loving her was the most exquisite form of self-destruction.

I hop into my car, driving to my house, I want to go see Jayda, but I need to clean up first; she can't see me like this. When I arrive home, I immediately take off my clothes and hop into the shower.

Blood from my body washes off and down the drain. I ripped the stitches on my side, so I guess some of it was my blood also; now that my adrenaline is lowering, the pain shoots through my body, causing me to ache all over. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes.

When I close my eyes, all I see is Jayda pinned to the floor with Matt on top of her. He said she was crying. CRYING! Damnit. My fist collides with the wall and a piece of the white tile chips.