Page 1 of Hate So Deep (Hate #4)

NOW

Lauren

The slow steady beep of the monitor bounces around my brain until I can’t process anything but the annoying fucking sound.

I’m still avoiding Mom’s gaze because her dark stare said it all when I walked into the hospital room reeking of alcohol and vomit.

When I glance at her sideways, she’s glaring at the wall with wide, vacant eyes, and I drop my head to my hands.

What the fuck is happening?

It’s hard to reconcile the man lying so still with a tube rammed down his throat to the boy who used to be so alive. The doctors said that Buck is brain dead, but the words don’t compute.

Brain dead. Aren’t we all brain dead, anyway?

I’m sure Buck wasn’t thinking with his brain when he jumped into a fight that he couldn’t win.

My dad clearly wasn’t using critical thinking when he sent Buck down this path of rage with his selfish choices. Not to mention Mom…and her overbearing, bitchy attitude.

So, yeah, none of us are sitting here because we engaged in common sense.

The hard, cold chair digs into my ass and I shift around to get comfortable only to freeze when Mom’s brows flicker.

Shrinking away, I avoid her gaze once more but when my eyes drop to the bed, I move quickly away. He's so pale and lifeless and it's fucking weird, which is why I'm relieved when Dad finally enters the room, his gaze sweeping over Buck in the bed while Mom glares at him from her chair.

Mentally wincing, I nod when Dad kisses my forehead and says, “You look tired, Lala. Go home. There’s nothing you can do here.”

Although glad for the reprieve, I glance at Mom who’s focused solely on Dad, and rise, before stepping away from the bed.

I’m barely through the door though when she hisses, “It was your fucking bastard. I know it.”

Dad’s answering sigh follows me down the hall, where I punch the button for the elevator before stepping inside.

Under normal circumstances, divorce is painful but when you find out that your Dad was shacked up this whole time with another wife and family, well…that puts a new wretched twist on the whole debacle.

Unfortunately, this only took my already broken brother and pushed him deeper into his rage, as though the thin veneer of humanity he was clinging to died along with his faith.

To be fair, he’s never been anything but an asshole, but this was next level shit. Did my brother finally encounter someone that he couldn’t overpower?

I shudder at the thought but refuse to consider the alternative. I love my brother. I do but I don’t like him very much.

Buck took all the pain swirling through his soul and forced it on everyone else, more often in the form of violence, including an altercation, not so long ago, with our half-brother Colt.

Did they fight? Why?

Of course, Buck never said a damn thing about it, and I heard through gossip that Colt beat him up after he attacked some girl, but no one, including Buck would admit it and the subject was dropped, for more important things, like Dad leaving Mom.

That was the turning point that changed literally everything and although Dad tried to come around, see us, Mom barred him at every turn.

Something happened but once again, no one would tell me. I’ve been pushed to the corner of our world and the further I fade away, the harder it is to remain firmly on the ground.

Thoughts of which swirl while I blast my music all the way home in a desperate attempt to drown out the sound of my parents bickering again.

This time though, Mom’s accusations have deeper meaning. Did my half-brother hurt Buck? Once again, why?

Does it matter? If he did, he killed our brother and that’s really freaking horrible.

It’s ridiculously quiet when I get home. I’m looking forward to a hot shower and my bed.

Buck’s face, purple and bruised, dances over my vision as I ascend the stairs but I’m so tired that my brain can’t truly process what’s happened.

Once I’m in my room, I drop my purse on the floor and toe off my shoes before pulling my blouse over my head.

I used to love this room but now as I take in the bed with my satin sheets and bright white bedspread, everything feels tainted. There’s nothing I can do about it now though and with a silent sigh, I step into the adjoining bathroom.

This is when everything from this morning comes rushing back and I study my reflection in the mirror before holding up my hands and turning right, then left.

Although I have fingertip sized bruises along my upper arms, my skin bears no cuts or serious injuries and searching through the memories of the night before, I come up frustratingly empty.

I puked at Cory’s house and begged Caro to take me anywhere but home, everything after that was a blur.

How did I get home?

Since Caro would know, I dial her number, but she doesn’t answer. She’s probably still sleeping off the drunk fest from last night.

After sending her a text, I move back into the bathroom and pause before the shirt laying in a ball on the floor.

If it hadn’t been for fucking Dirk and his asshole actions, I probably wouldn’t have drunk so much, but I set that shit aside to brood about another day.

Could it be a coincidence that the same night my brother was brutally attacked, I woke covered in this?

I don’t recall seeing him but it’s also a big fucking blur and with a kernel of unease, I grab the shirt from the floor before holding it up.

Whose blood is soaked through my shirt?

The house is quiet when I wake later and after staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, I stop off in the bathroom to brush my teeth and throw my hair in a ponytail.

Although I’m dreading the prospect, I need to see if there’s anything I can do for Mom. She was always closest to Buck, and I can’t imagine how she’s processing what happened.

Knowing her, she’s pushed it into a box in her head and will pretend that everything is okay while I know that silently she’s suffering but won’t let me in.

With a defeated sigh, I smooth a few errant wisps of hair back from my face before touching my ear. The diamond stud in my left ear glints in the light while my fingers roll over nothing on the right.

Fuck.

The matching stud is missing. I never take them off despite knowing I shouldn't sleep with them in. I've never had a problem before, but I guess my luck ran out.

Yay.

I’ll never hear the end of this from Mom because these were a gift from my grandfather and therefore irreplaceable in terms of sentimental value.

There’s nothing I can do about it now though because after searching my bed, which I had already stripped the sheets, dotted with more of the mystery blood, I still can't find it and I hope she doesn't notice I've removed them as I pass Buck's room.

For a moment, I'm transported to just a day ago when my brother came home, turned on his music full blast and proceeded to tear his room apart in a rage.

Now, everything has changed and despite knowing that my family is gone and in its place a parody of ridiculousness that only the truly disbelieving could swallow, I have to focus on my mom.

She's the one who needs me now, except, I don’t know what to do.

Shit.

I don’t think there is anything I can do.

What happens now? Per the doctor’s my parents have to decide if they’re going to keep him on life support.

I can’t imagine the burden of choosing between allowing him to live, even though he’s brain dead, or letting him die, knowing it was ultimately your decision to pull the plug.

Shuddering at the morbid thought, I step down the stairs and pause at the bottom.

It’s so damn quiet that a chill raises goosebumps on my arms as I head toward the kitchen. This is where I find Mom standing before the sink, while she seemingly stares at nothing, clutching an empty mug in her hand.

The coffee maker remains cold, and I flip the switch to start the brew, murmuring, “Mom?”

She barely twitches and my stomach sinks as I take the cup from her limp fingers and set it on the counter.

“Maybe you should sit down?” I say and she stiffens before pulling away.

“Your brother needs me. I’m going to the hospital.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No. Stay here. Clean yourself up,” she barks, and I bow my head.

It would be useless to point out that I showered hours ago but the words tremble on my tongue anyway.

In any case, she doesn’t wait for a response, and I look up when she pauses at the door to say, “This is about your brother now. Whatever happened last night, the only thing that matters is what happened to your brother. Do you understand?”

No, I really don’t but the intensity of her stare sends a shiver down my spine, and after I nod, she marches from the room.

Once she’s gone, I sag against the counter and rub my eyes.

I barely slept for the weird dreams of Buck and my mom interspersed with Dirk, my half-brother’s best friend, who I hadn’t seen in nine damn months before last night where we fucked like animals in the bathroom and he pushed me away…again.

Why is life always so fucking fucked?

Back in my room, I lock myself in the bathroom and read over the text from Caro before banging my head against the door.

This is all so messed up but the only thing I do have control over is finding out whatever happened after I blacked out, ended up at home without knowledge of how and covered in blood no less.

Lala: What happened last night?

Caro: I know, right? That was a wicked party!

Rubbing my aching brow, I consider the last memory I have before sending another message.

I think I drank too much. Did we go to a different party after Cory’s?

Caro: Ha, bitch! You must’ve been wasted. Yeah, and you were feeling no pain, I guess. Gage says hi btw

Vague images of dancing in a stranger’s living room cross my vision and I groan.

Why can’t I remember anything? How much did I fucking drink?

Lala: Gage? Is he…?

I know I should just outright ask but I feel stupid enough as it is. I knew better and somehow here I am, trying to retrace my night.

Caro: The dick you were riding. Yeah…so, how was it? I heard he’s a beast in bed, or was it Lover Boy who stoked that fire…?

Shit.

Images of Dirk in the bathroom rise once more and I touch my stomach. Despite everything that’s transpired between us, I still feel a pull toward him which is ridiculous because he’s the reason I got shit faced to begin with.

Ugh.

Did I fuck some stranger after? Is that where the bruises on my arms came from or maybe it was Dirk?

He wasn’t exactly gentle when he flipped me around and fucked me without mercy.

Shifting around, I try to decide if I feel sore or anything else but who the fuck knows.

Although this is all pathetically stupid, it doesn’t answer the most pertinent question that I’ve been avoiding and with another groan, I send her a new message.

Was my brother there?

Caro: Buck? No, I heard he got in some shit last night though

That’s a huge fucking understatement and since I don’t know how to answer, I set my phone aside and take another shower because yeah, now I feel really freaking gross.

All the while, I can’t help but wonder if we would be here like this now, if Buck had never discovered the truth about our family.

Either way, Caro’s confirmation that my brother wasn’t at the party last night eases some of my fears but leaves me wondering who gave me the bruises circling my arms and where all the blood came from.

Later when I emerge, searching for Mom, she’s still at the hospital leaving me completely alone.

Again.