Misfits (#2)

60.

Everest.

Every time we've tried to fight back, Dean's waved those photographs in our face and threatened Violet's dignity, her reputation, her future. All because he was born to riches and with a wicked, cruel fucking heart.

Because I'd fought back after years of his abuse, at thirteen. Because I'd fallen in love with the same girl he's had a twisted obsession for.

I've grown up in the last year, faster than I've ever grown up in the past eighteen. Love didn't just save me but it threw me head first into the reality of what it's like losing that, having it in jeopardy and the realisation that it's terrifying to love somebody so much.

To have a living embodiment of your weakness that can also be hurt and jeopardised. And suddenly, pain becomes a thing that's shared and so much more likely to be felt, when there's another person to feel it for now.

Love has saved my fucking life. And as much as me and Violet never wanted it to, love also fucking ruined us. It's darkened our hearts a little more this year. Our love's somewhat been shaped by torment, distance and pain.

It's down to them.

One of which is finally in our sights.

I slowly lean forward in the front seat of Luca's Camaro, the car shrouded under the shadow of a tree, keeping us in the darkness.

We all know it in the dead, unnerving silence in this car. The moment he stepped into our eye line, he's sealed his fate at our hands. There is nothing in this car but certainty. I can feel it in my blood, in the air, in the way anger seems to be the one thing to undoubtedly bind us together.

Anger is embedded into the three of us, whether we suppress or hide or act on it. The result of our childhoods has led us on different paths. Asides from the one similarity; there's a reckless cruelty to us when we're hurt. It seems to be our fallback.

And here, now, there's conviction and trust so deep that we don't have to utter a single word. It suffocates the car. For this night, the three of us are bound as one in whatever havoc we wreak.

Aster Gomez returned from his family's big holiday a couple weeks ago and has kept low on the radar since. According to what the Amory brothers easily found, he hasn't been recruited to any colleges. Simply living off daddy's money and attending college parties.

I'm not sure whether he purposefully stayed away from parties near us, near NYU. Today, he hasn't. It's New Year's Eve and in ten minutes, it's going to be January 1st, 2020.

"And if he doesn't know where the photographs are?" Luca breaks the long silence, his voice lacking any life. Ringed knuckles fist the steering wheel, his black hood over his head.

"He knows." Hudson says easily, behind us, his eyes shut and head tilted back on the seat. Awake, but I don't even know if the guy's conscious enough to be doing this tonight.

"Just stay in the car." Luca grits out, disdain in his voice, "We don't need you fucking passing out in the middle of this shit."

Hudson's voice is easily calm, "I won't."

"And you know that, how?" Luca snaps back, glancing over his shoulder.

"Because there's nothing quite as fucking freeing as being underestimated." Hudson lazily lifts his head and stares back at him, like the living embodiment of sin. Especially when he's in the dark. Sharp, black hair falling over his intoxicated eyes, "You don't know me. I won't."