It all started with a game

Chapter 23.1

I automatically assume people won't like me, so I don't talk to them unless they approach me first. I can't become a part of a crowd because I can't get past that feeling that I don't belong.
~Stephanie Kuehnert

A/N
I'm not sure if this needed a content warning or not but I added one just in case but it could be wrong.

Anyway, above is the banner for It All Started with a Dare, I hope you like it :)

****cw: fade to black (I think)****

Chapter 23.1 (or maybe 24)
Beatrice's POV
I parked the bike in the driveway, grabbing Ryder's sweater from the bush, tossing it over my bare torso, my shirt still in Kavinski's grasp. I tugged the hood over my head, taking a deep breath of the sleeve, Ryder's sent instantly soothing the trembling.

I took a few hesitant steps forward, placing three soft knocks on the door, not expecting Ryder to actually hear them. But it seems he must have as the door slowly creaked open. My eyes met his dull ones, which lacked their usual vibrant green color. He looked like a mess, his clothes wrinkled, his hair sticking up in every direction, his skin pale, his eyes swollen and red, a frown engraved into his features. I did that to him. I truly was a horrible person.

All it took was one look at Ryder and I cracked, instantly sobbing. I tried to cover my face so he couldn't see. Ryder took three steps forward, wrapping his arms around me. "I'm sorry!" I gripped onto his shirt, my legs collapsing beneath me.

Ryder held me up, rubbing my back softly. "I know."

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it."

He rested his chin on my head. "It's okay. I know you didn't."

It wasn't okay. None of it was okay. I shouldn't have said that. I was a horrible person. I hurt him, I hurt Ryder. "I'm so sorry," I repeated it over and over.

"I forgive you." He whispered despite the fact that I was not worthy of his forgiveness.

He should hate me. He should never want to see me again. He should be screaming at me, telling me how horrible I am. He should be yelling, cussing me out. Why isn't he yelling? "Why don't you hate me?" I got out between incoherent breaths.

"Because I know you didn't mean it." His voice was soft, and even though he knew I didn't mean it, I could still tell it hurt him.

He deserved way better than me. "I'm so sorry," I whimpered.

"I know." Ryder just held, like I was deserving of being held after everything I'd done to him. He just held me and rubbed my back and cooed sweet things in my ear like I deserved better than to feel like the scum at the bottom of the barrel.

I wiped my face, staring up at Ryder. "Ryder, I—" I tried to tell him about Kavinski, and what I'd done, so he could know how truly horrible I was, so he could know all the wretched things I'd done.

Ryder cut me off, avoiding eye contact. "Whatever happened, whatever you did—whoever you did—I don't want to know, okay? I don't wanna know, I can't know." His voice trembled as he pleaded with me.

I nodded. "Okay." If he didn't want to know, I wouldn't tell him. I didn't want to hurt him more than I already had.

Ryder let out a long breath, holding me to him before kissing my forehead. "Okay," he repeated.

"Beatrice," he finally asked, "what happened. In the square, what happened?"

I sniffled, knowing that he deserved an answer after everything I'd put him through. "Can we go to your room?" I always felt safer in his room. I'm sure the same went for his room at Mateo's house.