Torn Between Two

Chapter 43

Troye

It's been a day, but I still can't get the taste of Tyler out of my mouth. I feel like a slut. My poor Connor. I haven't seen him since yesterday. I've texted him and texted him, but he's not answering. He's ignoring me.

I send another text.

Troye: Babe, please answer me.

I look in the mirror. I'm disgusting. Covered in bruises. Red marks from where he slapped me. I didn't even try to stop him. Why didn't I try to stop him? I don't want to go to school.

But if I tell my parents that, then they will definitely send me to counselling again. Even when I'm sick, it's assumed I'm depressed. Obviously, they're right. I haven't been actually physically sick in over a year.

The last time I was sick..

Was the day I went into hospital.

The vodka. The human body doesn't down half a bottle of vodka that easily. I immediately realised how much I had drank and raced to the bathroom. They found me half an hour later on the floor of the bathroom, bleeding out.

It's all a blur now. I remember periods of darkness every time I took a sip. Then a searing pain on my arm as I ran the blade across it.

The sight of all this blood making me woozy. Falling. Hitting my head. Black.

Then I woke up in hospital.

I don't drink anymore, if you didn't pick that up. It terrified me when we used to go to parties and Tyler used to force me to drink. He'd practically force shots of vodka into my mouth even though he knew how upset I was.

Now I pour out the alcohol whenever he hands it to me.

Which he doesn't do.

Because we aren't friends.

I lost my best friend.

But he doesn't deserve to be my best friend anyway. He's a dick. He's disgusting. He punches people. He hurts people. Even his best friend.

But.. so did I.

Stop. Get ready for school.

I roll out of bed and fall on the floor onto my bruised stomach. "Fuck!" I hiss and whimper in pain. I slowly get up, but I can hardly walk. I stumble to my wardrobe, limping as my knees almost fail to hold me up.

Once I'm dressed, I head to the bus stop, hoping Connor might be on the bus. But he isn't.

I know as soon as it pulls up. I feel it in my stomach. I get on and see Tyler sitting up the back. He winks at me and my breath hitches in my throat. There are no spare seats today, but I'm not prepared to take the seat next to Tyler.

"Troye-boy, come sit up here!" Tyler yells. He has that look in his eye. The look that means, 'you have no choice.' I slowly make my way up to the back seat and sit next to Tyler. "Your bruises came out nice," he snickers. I self-consciously rub my arm through my sweater.

He puts his arm around me, but I push it off. "Do you want your precious Con to end up looking like you?" he hisses. "N-no."

Tyler's arm slithers back onto me and he pulls me into him. "Get off of me!" I yell and bring my hand towards his face. He doesn't even wince, but he brings his mouth to my ear, "and that's five punches for Connor," he whispers.

I stiffen. This is so much more serious and dangerous than I thought it was. My precious Connor. This is all my fault. He pulls me towards him, and I almost pull away. He bites at my neck again. I internally groan. Why me?