Unintended Consequences

Chapter 26 - Archer's POV

Author's Note: I have posted Chapter 25 and 26 close together! So make sure you have read 25 first, or this chapter won't make sense! :)

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You piece of shit.

Hit.

Fucking useless.

Hit.

Get a fucking life.

Hit.

Be a man.

Hit.

I let my father's words to me fuel each punch as I pummelled the wall. My knuckles were bloodied and raw, but the pain was the only thing keeping me sane. Every snap of my fists against the hard concrete was like a reminder that I deserved this.

I had just dropped Charlotte off at her dorm and the look on her face, while she grabbed her bag, broke me. Physically, mentally, emotionally, broke me. I had forced myself not to look at her for the whole drive back to USC. I'd known that if I looked at her, really looked at her, I would have broken down. I would have told her everything, and I'm sure she would have been there for me. But she didn't deserve that, to be sunken down by my bullshit.

But then I'd snuck a peek. I had thought just a small one in my rearview mirror couldn't hurt. But it did. Fuck, did it hurt. Her eyes had been puffy and downcast. Her thick wet lashed clumped and stuck to her bright red cheeks. Her bottom lip had trembled before she pressed her lips firmly together, keeping them still. She had been trying to be strong, I could tell.

I wanted to get out and run to her, tell her that I was sorry. But I didn't. Fucking coward. Instead, I'd let her walk away, then I drove off looking for the nearest place to lose myself. An alleyway behind a bar had seemed good enough. No one would be there in the middle of the day. So it was private and had ample amounts of concrete walls. They were usually my stress-reliever of choice. I couldn't damage it, but it could damage me.

My dad is right. I am a piece of shit. I am fucking useless. I need to get a fucking life and be a man.

By the time I climbed into my truck to head to practise, I couldn't feel my fingers anymore. They were numb, just like me. I pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol out from under my seat and doused my hands like it was water. I scrubbed off the blood while the alcohol stung each break in my skin.

I tried to relax as I drove to the field but it was hard. My hands throbbed in pain while my body itched from my old clothes. I tried to tell myself that I just needed to get to practise—football would make this better. But deep down, I think I knew nothing would ever actually help. I'd hurt Charlotte, and ruined everything. Sure, she was better off without me. Hopefully, she would realize that soon. But until then, I'd broken her and I would never forgive myself.

"Hey man, you look rough." Tyler slapped me on the shoulder as I walked by to get to my locker. I didn't respond. I needed to get my gear on as quickly as possible and get on the grass.

More of my teammates shuffled into the locker room as I got dressed but I kept my back to them. Just as I was about to pull my jersey over my head, I heard heavy footsteps slapping across the room quickly. A hush fell throughout the usually rambunctious room.

"You son of a bitch," was all I heard before I was pushed forward into my open locker. I caught myself, swinging around to see what the fuck was going on.

Emmett stood before me, his chest heaving as he glared at me. I didn't get a chance to even blink before he lifted his fist and connected it with my jaw. An audible crack rang through the silent room as our teammates looked on, shocked.