Justin
Well, shit.
"Brooklyn, wait!" I called after her as she walked past us, aiming for the door.
I could see tears streaming down her face, and knowing it was my fault, made me feel as guilty as ever. I had never been proud of that night, but I had managed to somehow keep the memory hidden in a corner of my mind until Ryan came back. And now he had screwed everything up. Now my girlfriendthought I was a fucking monster.
Brooklyn ignored me and continued to walk away. I could hear her uneven breathing, and just remembering the look on her face when Ryan had finished telling her the story made me want to throw up. She had looked at me like she was terrified. Of me. And I could not take that.
"You fucked up," I told Ryan, who, to my surprise, wasn't smirking triumphantly. "Don't think this will make things easier on her. Was it really necessary to tell her? That way? She's freaking out!" I exclaimed, tugging at my hair, which was already messed up enough to make me look like a crazy man.
"She deserved to know," Ryan replied, but he didn't sound too convinced. "You would've had to tell her sooner or later."
"No, I wouldn't have!" I shook my head wildly. "She was better off being clueless."
"You're just saying that because you don't want to lose her." Ryan scoffed. "Now, maybe she'll want you to leave her alone. Hopefully."
The mere thought made me wanna punch him. In fact, I had been wanting to punch him for a while now. "Of course I don't want to lose her, I fucking love her!"
Ryan tried to remain emotionless, but his eyes betrayed him. Perhaps he was regretting ever opening his mouth because he knew how much pain he had caused Brooklyn. Or perhaps he hadn't expected me to yell that I loved her in front of him.
"I need to talk to her," I said to no one in particular, and Ryan didn't try to stop me from leaving.
I took off down the corridor we had come from before, and ran. Since Brooke was on her heels, she hadn't gotten too far. However, I could hear her sobs and see her hands shaking from the distance. My heart constricted. I didn't want her to hate me like Ryan had said she would, but I knew the odds weren't in my favor this time.
"Brooke, wait!" I called again, and she turned around. Her makeup was slightly smeared so her cheeks had two lines of black tear-stained mascara, but she still looked beautiful. Nevertheless, seeing her crying—and knowing I was the reason for it—made my heart break.
She opened her mouth but no words came out. I finally reached her and tried to hold her hand, but she flinched. "Just hear me out, please," I begged.
Her eyes met mine, and I saw that heart-wrenching feeling of fear again. I swallowed hard. I couldn't stand the thought of her being afraid of me. The way Ryan had put the story made me look like a heartless son of a bitch that enjoyed throwing burned corpses to a river. He had no idea of how disgusted with myself I had felt after that. He had no idea of how I had cried myself to sleep that night. And he definitely had no idea that I had sworn to myself I'd never do such a thing again.
"I don't think I wanna hear anything else," Brooklyn croaked out, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I just wanna go home."
"Okay, let me give you a ride," I offered. I needed some time to be with her and try to calm her down.
"No," she said harshly, and then, as if she had noticed me wincing, she added, "I want to be alone. I'll call a taxi."
I wanted to insist on driving her, or tell her to text me when she was home safe and sound, like she always did so I wouldn't worry. But I knew I couldn't ask her night now. I knew she wouldn't want to text me, and I had no right to demand anything from her either. Not after that.
