Tortured

Chapter Two: Sorry, Not Sorry

Tess

Present Day...

The pleasure it gives me to hear Perry gasping for air is alarming. I don't know what came over me, but I don't exactly feel bad about it. Ben, the guy in my chair, has a look of disbelief on his face as he grips the handrails.

Still trembling with the adrenaline coursing through my veins, my eyes flick back to Perry. He's still shaking his head, clutching his throat.

"Damn, Bishop. You have a good arm." His voice is strained, but I swear I see him smirk. That pisses me off more.

"I mean it, Perry. Get the hell out of here." I point to the door firmly and he shakes his head again.

"Not happening." He pops his neck against his hand before landing his eyes on me. A strange feeling comes over me and I can't bring myself to look away. He was always someone I could count on no matter what, and when I needed him the most, he wasn't there. I don't think I can ever forgive him for that.

Regaining my composure, I square my shoulders. "Do what you want." I turn to walk back to Ben. "It doesn't matter what you say. You're wasting your breath."

I reach for my gun again and Ben stands up quickly. "No way, Tess. You're way too wound up to be poking at me with that needle." He draws his hand across his throat. "I'm done for today."

My eyes roll. It's always the largest guys that are the most scared. "Whatever," I call to him. "Call me next week and I'll fit you in so we can finish."

The door chimes in the background, but I keep my focus on cleaning up my equipment. He was my last appointment for today so I have little chance of getting rid of Perry by being busy again. It goes several minutes but I can still hear his footsteps move across the concrete floors from time to time. Unable to stand it anymore, I get up to see what he's doing.

His eyes are fixated on the wall of photos I have out front. They are all sporadically placed behind the chairs in the waiting room. Most of them are of art shows and conferences Walker and I either went to or competed in. The others are of us. By us, I mean everyone how we used to be. Walker, Jeremy, Perry, me, and even that bitch Sloan. There was a time when you were unlikely to get a photo of Perry without Sloan. That's the only change I can be thankful for.

He stands in front of one of them longer than the others. It was the summer before we lost Jeremy and all of us were down at the lake for the weekend. That was the best summer of my life and I'm pretty sure he's thinking the same thing.

"We never did get that golf cart out of the lake," Perry says with a small laugh, motioning towards the picture.

I bite my lip so I don't smile. "Yeah, well you were the one who drove it in there. I'm surprised you didn't drown."

"I almost did," he says, turning to me. His eyes are lit up with amusement and for a brief second I forget why I'm mad at him. That second passes quickly. I turn my eyes to the floor and cross my arms.

Perry steps around me and stops in front of the one from their senior prom. I wasn't a senior, but Walker took me as his date. He also took me for the next two years after that until I graduated. I know for a fact Perry is focusing on Sloan. If I remember correctly, they broke up later that night at the after party-and got back together about three days later.

I don't notice that Perry has moved closer until I feel his hands on my arms. I look up and his eyes are searing down at me. "Can we go outside and talk about this. Please, Bishop."