American Sweethearts

32

"Tyler! Open up!"

I bang on his door, dying to get in. He's staying at a creepy motel just outside of town. Owen offered to let him crash on their parent's couch, but he'd have to refrain from smoking, which, of course, Tyler won't do.

"Tyler, please!" I beg.

I know he's in there. He has to be.

As if on cue, the door swings open. Tyler leans against it, a smirk on his face. His eyes are red, and tired. He's stoned. And naked. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

"Hey, pretty princess," he smiles. "What are you doing here?"

I barge into the room, marching right past Tyler and his stupid compliments. I've become so familiar with the scent of weed, I can identify it from a mile away. And this room sure as hell smells like it. There's also a bong tossed onto the bed, confirming my suspicion.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I blurt, turning back to face him.

"What did I do this time?" He grumbles, slamming the door shut.

"What the fuck do you think? You're here to visit your mother!"

Greenbay Women's Correctional Facility. The closest prison to our college campus, and the place where Lee Scott is held. Tyler's mother.

"Ah," he nods, looking down. "You found out."

"How could you keep this from me?"

"For this exact reason."

"Because you thought I'd be mad at you? Because guess what? I'm fucking mad!"

"Mad enough to swear, I see."

"Shut up!" I scold, glaring at his cocky face. "You knew all along! This whole time, you fucking knew! And you didn't have the decency to tell me?!"

He scoffs. "What good would that have done, huh?"

"You wouldn't've had to hide it from me all this time! You wouldn't've had to be such a dick to me! That's what it was about, right? You thought you could be an ass, so I would stay away, and you wouldn't have to deal with the fact that your mother murdered my parents!"

His expression hardens, and I know I've hit a sore spot. He feels guilty, but I don't give a shit right now.

"Not just my parents!" I spit. "Your mother killed my parents, and my sisters baby! She left me with PTSD and a body covered in third-degree burns! She ruined my fucking life!"

"I know."

"What?" I scowl, taken aback by his calm tone. But it doesn't last. As soon as he hears my words, he snaps.

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" he exclaims. "Don't you think it was fucking hard for me to see you like that? For me to see you have panic attack after panic attack? To hear your nightmares, to hear you crying, to see you struggling as much as you do? Fuck, to see you at all is fucking torture!"

"That must've made it worse for you, huh? To see me? A constant reminder of what your mother did?"

"Why the fuck do you think I didn't tell you? If it was hard for me to see you, it would have been a fuck tonne harder for you to see me! You were already a fucking wreck when we met!"

"That wouldn't have been your problem! You had no right to keep it from me! You should've told me the truth!"

"And watched you get even worse? I don't fucking think so!"

"I would've moved out! I would've found somewhere else to live so I would've have to see your fucking face ever again! But now, everything is just a fucking lie!"