The Degenerates - Under Edit

t h i r t y o n e

"Absolutely nothing," Theo confirmed.

I let my head fall in my hands, "Nothing at all?"

"Nope, zilch."

I felt a momentary spike of guilt for dragging the boys out, only to find nothing at the party. No suspicious behaviour, nobody watching anyone else, nobody hanging around strangely. It was as if our shooter just didn't exist.

Theo left the unit, declining Trey's offer to have him drop him at the hotel, saying he got a ride.

That left both Trey and I awkwardly in the kitchen.

"Thank you," I told him.

He shrugged, "You can never be too careful."

"Listen," I said, my heart accelerating, "I'm sorry."

Trey looked up, a puzzled look crossed his face.

"I'm so sorry," I said, "I didn't even let you explain-"

"It's fine," Trey cut me off, taking his jacket off.

"It's not fine," I said calmly.

The tension around us was thick; almost as if I were choking. But I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to admit to myself that I couldn't bear to be away from him, and I needed him to admit that he needed me too. We both needed protection from each other right now, and we were both too stubborn to admit it.

I needed him to tell me everything about his father, because I needed to be able to trust him without fear that he'll pull the rug out from underneath me.

"Trey?"

"I am not having this conversation. I don't have anything to say." He said without looking at me.

"That's not true," I pressed, "just talk to me."

"No," he responded, "I thought you needed space and I gave you that. I realised that I needed space too."

My heart stung at his words, but I couldn't let the lump in my throat stop me from trying to reason with him, "I did need it. I don't want to be away from you."

"Do you want to know why I didn't tell you?" Trey looked up at me from across the kitchen, his eyes were so dark and angry, "because I thought that you would see me just like everyone else that knew. You would see me as some sick fuck who had a serial killer for a dad. And then I thought no, she's different. I went to tell you the other night but we fell asleep and that was my bad. But I'm glad I didn't, you reacted exactly how I feared."

I shook my head, "Please don't say that, you have to understand-"

"I understand, Neijla," he declared, raising his voice, "I understand perfectly."

"No you don't,"

Trey laughed, but his eyes remained enraged, "What are you going to tell me? That it's not my fault?"

"It's not,"

"That I'm just misunderstood? That I just needed extra attention from my mother who had a fucking kid with a murderer?"

"No-"

"Then what? What makes you different?" he demanded. He was still so angry, but his eyes were begging.

I tried to speak but no sound came out, "I'm sorry I reacted badly, it was the heat of the moment-"

"You didn't give me a chance,"

"I know," I yelled, my voice cracking, "I know. And I've been dealing with that for weeks."

Trey did not budge, his face was hurt, "It's you. You make me weak. You make me feel powerless."