Play Pretend

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Heroin—Lana Del Rey

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Link's Perspective

"Let go of me!"

"Shut up." Aryll pries at my fingers and drags her feet, making more of a scene. She wants to throw a fit when she was the one who was supposed to listen. Daruk offered to pay me a little extra if I stayed late and all I asked of her was to wait at school until I came to get her.

"Let go!" she screams, dropping to dead weight like a child. Her blouse lifts from where it was tucked into her skirt and I catch her wrist before it pulls over her head. "Stop it! Let me go!"

I haul her back to her feet and force her to either walk or be dragged across the ground. "I'll quit when you stop acting like a damn child!"

"You're hurting me!"

"Then walk!"

Her screams catch into choked whimpers the longer they go on. She stumbles along, throwing her fist into me wherever she can reach. She kicks and claws, screaming louder as I open the door to my car and shove her in.

My arm burns where she raked her nails into my skin but it's the last thing I can focus on as I stalk to my side. She reaches across the middle once I'm inside and pounds her fists into me just hard enough to ache and remind me of the feeling of fresh bruises.

I shove her back with my forearm but she doesn't stop, hitting me with everything she has. "Quit," I bite out through clenched teeth.

"I hate you!" She chokes on her own wails with snot running into mouth.

I clench my shaking fists, trying so desperately to hold onto the rope dragging me closer and closer to that edge I keep telling myself I'll stop crossing. "Stop—"

"I hate you," she screams, hitting me with each word, "and she will too with her pretty hair and perfect smile!"

"Shut up!"

"She's going to hate you like everyone else does!"

My fingers rubbed raw, the rope slips.

I catch it at the last moment, stopping just before the back of my hand connects with her cheek. I might have been relieved if most of me hadn't been eager for the sting—eager for a handprint to be on someone else.

She falls back into the seat away from my still raised hand. I clench it into a fist, my entire body trembling. Her face scrunches with the tears that pour freely down her cheeks. "You bastard," she whimpers.

"Watch your fucking mouth," I growl, my voice hoarse with that burning thing simmering in my gut still wishing I hadn't stopped.

My chest heaves as I finally drop my hand and jam the key into the ignition. I savor the way the engine drowns out the sound of her tears. I hate them as much as I hated the sound of my own.

The look of it, the warm, salty taste and the thickness in my throat choking out my weak begging. The way he'd ridicule each one and say he wished I wasn't his. I won't forget the flash of pride in his eyes the moment I chose to bleed than cry but that pride turned to a challenge I'll never be able to win.

I swallow hard. "Stop crying."

"N-no!" She drags her hands over her face, smearing the snot and thick tears.

"Don't try to bullshit me with those. You've never had a reason to cry like this in your entire fucking life."

"Yes I do!"

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