His Rockstar

37. | What Should've

"Lindsey, wait!" Amelia calls for me, but I'm already storming down the stairs. I rip open the front door without a second thought, pounding down the porch steps as he rounds around his car.

"You sick bastard." I growl, storming to him. The minute I'm within reach, I'm swinging. "You killed her!" It's the only words I can manage.

I punch him in the chest.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Yelling the same three words.

Again.

And again.

And again.

"You killed her! You killed my sister! You took her away from me! You killed her! You killed her!" I scream.

"Quit it! What the hell is wrong with you?!" He yells back.

"You killed her! She's dead, and it's all your fault! You killed her! You killed my sister!" Tears of both anger and pain flow like waterfalls down my face, but I can't stop screaming those three words.

It's all I can think of.

Arms wrap around me, pulling me away from him and pinning my arms, but I flail, kicking and screaming, sobbing and crying.

"You killed my sister! You killed her! How could you do that?! Why would you do that?! Why would you do that to me?!" I sob as someone whispers in my ear. "You took her away from me, you selfish bastard! I hate you! I hate you! I wish it was you, not her! She deserved to live!"

"Lindsey, hey, hey. You're okay. I got you, I got you." A voice whispers in my ear, but I don't listen. I can't stop crying and screaming.

"I wish you were dead!" I scream.

After all this time, my sister's killer had been right in front of me. She killed herself because of him.

I'm pulled away and dragged inside, even as I scream, "You took her away from me, you sick bastard!"

I don't pay attention to where I'm led to, too busy sobbing and crying to notice. I fall to my knees in a room and someone appears in front of me. I can't tell who it is, my vision blurred from tears. Hands cup my face as I sob loudly, all the pain I've stuffed down over the years spilling.

I'm pressed against their chest and I wrap my arms around them, tears falling down my face like rivers. "I want my sister."

"I know, baby, I know." He whispers against my hair. "I know."

I don't know when I stop crying. I lose track of time. I sit on the end of the bed as Alex returns from the kitchen with a glass of water. He hands it to me and I sip from it, resting it in my lap.

He sits down beside me on the bed. "This is all my fault." I find myself whispering.

"What are you talking about?"

"If I hadn't gone home, none of this would've happened." My voice breaks. "We would've still been together and—" I press my lips together, shaking my head to myself. "It's all my fault."

"Lindsey," Alex whispers. "None of this is your fault. This is all on your dad."

I shake my head. "I should've just...stayed. I should've just...waited for you to wake up instead of running home. Maybe things would've turned out differently."

"What all...happened? That day?" He seems unsure, as if he doesn't know exactly how to ask.

I drop my head, a rock forming in my throat at the memory. "Remember when...you asked if...my dad had ever laid a hand on me?"

I glance at him as he nods slowly. "Yeah. What about it?"

"I lied."

I watch his expression crumble. I should've admitted it to him when he first proposed the idea, but I didn't want to go back to that moment. It's a memory I refuse to remember. It's also the reason why I've never done anything more than argue with him.

"I went home, and he just— He knew. He knew that I had spent the night with you." I return my eyes on the glass in my lap, biting my lip to keep it from trembling. "He got angry. He called me a whore, forced me to pack my things, and we left." Alex turns his attention to the floor, seeming to be in thought. "He tried to keep me prisoner, because I was seventeen. But the minute I turned eighteen, I was out of that house, and he couldn't stop me. I packed a bag, took what little money I had. I tried to go back to Arizona, but I took the wrong bus and I ended up in Chicago with no money."

"Why didn't you ever try to contact me?" He whispers.

"I did." I look up at him, a tear falling. "I tried so many times. But you never answered."

"Oh."

I swallow, wiping away my tears. "I got a job at Rhys's company. I was homeless, and I was barely surviving. Then, Rhys found me sleeping on the street. He took me in, helped me get on my feet. Of course, my dad found out and...I changed my number and forgot about him until the next time he came calling."

"Why didn't you ever file anything against him?"

I scoff. "Are you kidding? He's a lawyer. I could never win anything against him."

"I'm sure you could win a battle against him, as long as you believe in yourself." He tells. And for a split second, I almost believe him.

Almost.

My head falls in my hands as sobs slip past my lips. "I'm so tired, Alex."

"I'm sorry." He whispers, pulling me to him. I wrap my arms around him, my chin resting on his shoulder as he holds me while I cry. "I'm so sorry."

I exhale a breath shakily. "I don't want to hurt anymore."

"I wish I could make it stop." He runs a hand down the back of my head, rocking us back and forth soothingly.

This. This is what I wish I never lost.

If only I had stayed with him.