Wash

Chapter Two

Sebastian
Aftermath

I shove open the doors to the station and step out onto the concrete porch. Heavy rain crashes around me, drowning out the usual night time sounds. I linger underneath the shelter and wait, watching the rain drop like little beads of glass and shatter against the black road. What am I waiting for? I don't know. I just can't bring myself to head home. Going home means I have to walk past her house and I don't know if I can.

Zoey Monroe...the girl I've dreamed about since the moment I met her. She has always been a delight, charming in that awkward kind of way-like a puppy with feet too big for its body. My shoulders sag. I should've walked her to the video store and back home again. I know I should have...but she makes it so damn hard to be around her. I don't like the feeling of cats chasing mice in my stomach or the heat that blooms under my collar whenever she looks in my direction-and God forbid I don't throw up whenever she talks to me with that deliciously sweet tone I like so much.

When she stepped out of Hughes' office, her loving parents draped around each shoulder, I sensed it immediately...the girl I knew was gone. Why would she stay? After being tainted by darkness and brutality. I saw her stomach churning in her expression when she looked at me.

It's my fault.

It's all. My. Fault.

"Fuck!"

I see red. My gut coils in rage, sending anguish and hatred spewing through my body. I launch off the porch, clearing the three concrete steps in a single bound. Heavy, cold bullets of rain whip against my skin. They burn like fire, matching the temperature of the blood in my veins. Growling, I kick a metal trashcan on the edge of the narrow sidewalk. With a loud clatter, it falls over, spilling water and spewing plastics over the ground. All I had to do was walk beside her. I didn't have to talk to her. I just had to keep her safe.

But I didn't.

I. Fucking. Didn't.

And that asshole...the disgusting animal I never caught, took from her what I've dreamed of having since high school. He took what I so desperately wanted her to give me...and I feel sick for ever wanting it from her-for imagining her the way I've imagined her. For contemplating the possibility of us ever fucking. I shudder at the word.
What I saw was...it wasn't...it's not okay. A young girl is ruined and a sick man is satisfied. What is wrong with the world?

"You all right, son?"

I snap my head in the direction of the porch. Rain pours into my eyes, obscuring the figure who stands with his hands in his pockets. I lower my head. I don't think I can handle answering another question from Sergeant Hughes. I just want this night to be over.

"I'm fine."

"It's coming down pretty hard. You need me to give you a ride home?"

"No."

Clenching my jaw, I step off the sidewalk and onto the road. Puddles splash at my feet and seep through my shoes, soaking my socks.

"You're a hero, kid."

I roll my eyes, my jaw clenching on and off. I don't know what pisses me off more. The fact he called me kid when I'm nearly twenty years old, or that he labelled me a hero. I'm not a hero. I failed Zoey, I failed myself, and I failed women everywhere. If I wasn't so adamant about keeping Zoey at arm's length I could have prevented what happened.

If I'm such a hero why did she look at me with a bad taste in her mouth? If I'm such a hero, why don't I feel like one?

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