Page 33 of Make Me Scream (Visceral #2)

PERIS

“What the fuck?”

My mind is reeling as I stare at the vacancy Abel left behind. I can’t comprehend any of it. What he said. His abrupt absence. Why?

What the fuck…

I watch him walk away from me, unable to stop him.

My fingers clutch for purchase around the wheel, aching to reach out for him, my legs twitching, knowing I should jump out and stop him, but I can’t.

Because what if he didn’t mean it? What if it’s another one of his lies, said merely to placate me?

It’s entirely possible.

Abel plays games—and he’s the best I’ve ever seen at it. I fell for every single one, and I’m still in the midst of them, and it hurts…

But what if he means it? And that’s the thought that sticks there as I watch him walk through the propped open door, my heart hammering against my sternum.

He loves me.

Abel Silver fucking loves me. He said the words… Words I’ve never heard him say before—not even to Ma—which means it must hold value to him if that’s the one thing he’s never played around with before… right?

I let out a breathless, manic chuckle and toss my head back as I rake my fingers through my hair. This is unreal. Impossible, and yet…

What?

I shoot up in my seat as the door swings open and out walks my runt. He’s got a hoodie on, hood pulled up over his head, but there’s no mistaking it’s him. My brows tug together, especially because he doesn’t even look over this way.

Just as I reach to open my door to ask him what the hell he’s doing, a black BMW pulls up beside him, and Abel hops in the front seat without preamble.

I rear back, surprise washing over me because who the hell is that?

The dude driving is some frat boy-looking guy with dark wavy hair and fancy clothes.

He reaches over Abel’s body, fingers fluttering over his stomach and latches Abel’s seatbelt for him, and my stomach flips in the worst way possible, a cold dread washing over me.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing—like truly cannot believe it. I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes and rub until I see a fucking galaxy, but even then, when my sight rights itself once more and my runt is still sitting in that car with that man, I realize I was wrong.

So, so very wrong.

After a minute longer, the guy rights himself and starts to pull away.

I jerk in place, ducking down to avoid the flash of his headlights.

My heart is thrashing in my chest, and I choke on my own breath as I listen to the crunch of gravel under the tires get further away before I slowly crawl my way back up my seat.

When I straighten up, the car is turning left onto the main road, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I end up driving the same direction—opposite of home. I keep him a single car ahead so I can follow without being suspicious.

“What the fuck are you doing, Peris?” I mutter to myself as I roll to a stop at the stop sign. I drop my head against the steering wheel and bang it against it a few times until I feel a deep throb bloom, and I groan.

My heart is thrashing, a heavy pulsing in my throat and radiating outward through my chest, where it turns into a deep, burning heat in my gut—like acid burning away at my insides.

A car honks at me, and I jerk upward, eyes flashing. I throw my hand up in apology and step on the gas, moving forward. A quick glance at the clock tells me it’s just past two in the morning, and that makes me frown.

Abel’s meeting with a random man at two A.M., and they’re driving toward the outskirts of town.

My hands tighten on the wheel. The cracks bite into my skin, but I barely even feel it as we make a right turn—right into the parking lot for the hotel.

“Fuck.” All hope I had that this wasn’t what I thought it was falls right out of me as the BMW pulls up through the valet. Abel steps out with a grace he really shouldn’t have and lets the valet shut his door for him, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

The other guy follows around the front of the car and presses his hand into Abel’s lower back, and they walk inside, whispering things to one another.

Fucking whispering to each other like they fucking know each other— I tear into the parking lot and take the closest spot—which just so happens to be a handicap-reserved spot, but I don’t fucking care.

Let me get a ticket, or let me get towed. It’ll be worth it.

I speed-walk into the building behind them, keeping my distance but needing them in sight. The dude bypasses the front desk and strides down the hallway. Must have a standing fucking reservation, the piece of shit.

My hands curl into fists at my sides, fury licking through my veins. An all-too-familiar fire I haven’t felt in so long finds its way inside me, building slowly but strongly, and I know without a doubt it’s going to be catastrophic.

Abel loops his arm through the guy’s as they walk, leaning into him, and I suck in a breath at the sharp pain that lances through my chest at the sight.

My eyes sting, and I blink rapidly as my footsteps slow, my hand reaching up of its own accord to rub at the ache, but it doesn’t do a thing.

If anything, it increases the longer he holds on. The same he has to me in the past.

It's like I’m no one special. Just another one of his —I cut the thought off with a breath, scrunching my eyes shut with my teeth clenched tightly together.

I don’t know what I was thinking… believing I was anyone different to Abel fucking Silver, of all people.

I was a fool who fell for all of his pretty little lies.

They turn left suddenly, and I jerk back and fall into an alcove, sucking in so I’m not accidently seen. My heart is thrashing, and it’s choking me. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m stalking him while he’s with one of his fucking clients.

That’s gotta be what’s going on, who this is… it has to be. There’s no other explanation that makes sense. But why would he be? I didn’t think he’s been fucking anyone else since before we were… are we even together?

The question brings me pause.

I shake my head, even as I yank on my hair and barely resist banging my head into the wall repeatedly. Yes. Yes, we are fucking together. He’s mine, and he fucking knows it. And he thinks he can share his body with other people? Share any part of himself with anyone but me?

I don’t fucking think so.

With renewed purpose, I push myself off the wall and walk up to the door they stopped at, but just as I reach up to rap my knuckles against the wood, I stop, freezing at the sound of Abel’s muffled voice.

I lean forward and turn my head, pressing my ear against it.

“Is that what you want tonight, baby? You just want my mouth?”

“What?” I say, breathless. I tug my bottom lip between my teeth to catch the sob that nearly spills from my lips unexpectedly. What the fuck?

Nausea curdles in my gut, and the hallway swims. I stumble backward into the wall behind me and slump down, dropping my head between my knees.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t fucking believe this shit,” I mutter to myself, yanking my hair by the handfuls.

My eyes are wide and glassy as I stare down at the ugly square-patterned carpet.

I dig my toe into it, ruffling it until my feet are as numb.

But that numbness quickly fades, and the vexation returns tenfold, curdling into a blistering intensity. I slowly rise to my feet, fingers flexing into fists at my sides. Everything in my peripheral is blurred as I stare at the fucking door in front of me. Number 144.

I fucking hate the number four now, I decide resolutely, as I stand to my full height, walk forward, and raise my hand. I make a tight fist, and without hesitating, I bang my knuckles on that door, ducking my head so I can’t be seen through the peep hole.

“Who’s that?” I hear the dude I don’t know say.

“How the fuck should I know?” Abel says, and I stiffen as his voice is the one nearest to me. He’s the one who’s going to answer the door. But this is good. He should be the one to confront me. To tell me why. Why he would do this to me.

To us…

The handle turns, and I pull in a breath, holding it as my heart stutters achingly.

“What the—” A sharp intake of breath. “Peris?” he chokes out as the door swings open. I let my eyes close briefly, trying to prepare myself for the knife through my chest, but as I look up and I meet those silver orbs, the air is punched from my chest.

Surprise and anguish. That’s all I see—and that’s what he deserves. I know it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.

Goddamnit.

“Hello, runt,” I say, asphyxiating on the words, even as I do my best to feign indifference. I’m doing a shit job at it, but what else can I do?

“What are you doing here?” he chokes out, fingers tightening on the door. He tries to close it, but I swing my hand out and stop him. He steps closer instead, hair disheveled and face flushed, lips swollen.

He was sucking his cock. I know that look well.

It makes me sick.

“No need for that, puppy. I know everything.” My voice is cold, devoid of everything.

It was all a fucking lie, and I was stupid enough to fall for it.

“Everything?” he gasps, hand reaching for his throat, fingers skimming the necklace I gave him. They clamp around it like he can’t breathe, and my fingers twitch, aching to reach out to him and comfort him, to ease the hurt, but no. I can’t because what about me?

What about me, damnit?

“Yes. Everything. What’s his name?” I ask, grinding my teeth. I can’t take my eyes off that fucking necklace.

“Abel, who is that?” the man calls from inside.

Abel’s eyes widen, and his head turns to quickly look behind him, “No one!” he squeaks, and I curl my lips inward before giving a quick nod.

“Right. I’m no one. I got it,” I say briefly as I back up a few steps.

“No, Peris,” he says quickly, reaching toward me, eyes wide and glassy. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

I jerk my arm back, hissing when his fingers skim mine. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

He looks wounded, and he winces. I relish in the sight.

Good. Hurt like me.

“Peris, you don’t understand…” he tries to say, but I shake my head.

“Don’t treat me like I’m fucking stupid. I would understand anything and everything. What I don’t understand is lies, ” I hiss, nostrils flaring. Tears fill his eyes, and I hope it hurts. I want it to hurt.

His hands shake in front of him as he crosses his arms over his stomach like he’s trying to keep all of his organs inside. “You couldn’t understand!”

“Okay, Abel,” I say resolutely and turn to walk away, back straight and mind made up.

“Wait!” he squeaks. “Don’t go!”

“You just said I was no one, runt,” I hiss.

“Fucking no one. To somebody that really doesn’t matter.

So fuck you.” I step forward and shove my finger in his face.

“You’re nothing but the fucking whore you’ve always been.

And I’ll admit, I was stupid enough to fall for the lies you fabricated.

They were good, I’ll give you that, So, congratulations.

You got me. You won. But let me ask you this, Abel.

” I step forward and wrap my fingers around the side of his neck and tilt his head up so I can skim my nose along the shell of his ear, and I relish in the way it makes him shiver, even now. After everything.

“Do you still win when you’re the lying whore who has nothing left in the end?

Not even his own dignity? Riddle me that.

” And with one last chaste kiss to his tear-stained cheek, I shove him away and stalk down the hall without looking back once, even as every bone in my body aches and yearns in regret for him.

The car ride home is a blur I don’t remember.

I pull into the drive and stare through the windshield at the front door of the house. Mom’s not home. It’s dark and cold and lonely.

I’m alone.

Always so fucking alone.

“Fuck!” I scream and wrench forward, thrusting my fist into the glass as I stare at the house I hate—because now it’s tainted with memories of a boy I hate to love.

A boy who fucking ruined me.

The windshield cracks and spiderwebs outward. “Shit!” I scream as my knuckles bust. The throbbing is instant, as is the swelling. I pull my hand to my chest, uncaring of the pain.

In fact, I welcome it. It’s better to focus on that than on the ache in my chest. And with that at the forefront of my mind, I stumble out of the car and into the house with painfully dry eyes and a heavy chest.

Each footstep twinges, but I’ve got plans for that as I make my way into the kitchen. I yank open the freezer door with one hand, the other cradled to my chest. I grab the bottle of tequila and kick the door shut before turning down the hallway, bottle already pressed to my lips.

And like the fucking masochist I must be, it’s not until the tequila is burning its way down my throat that I realize I’ve opened the door to Abel’s room, and I’m just standing there, staring at his still half-made messy bed, pink sheets and all.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Fuck!” I let the bottle drop from my mouth as I saunter over, and I drop onto his bed.

I flop down, feet still planted on the floor.

My phone is still quietly playing music in my pocket, and the lyrics to “Pet Names” by I The Mighty carry through the room, making me feel sick to my stomach as they rip the wound in my chest open a little more.

I wedge the bottle in my armpit, shivering at the cold as I use my good hand to dig for my phone, but as I go to switch the song, some part of me just can’t do it. I’m not sure why, but there’s something about it. I just can’t.

“Fuck it,” I mumble as I tip my head back and glug from the bottle a few more times until my head spins and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

When my vision clears, I hit the repeat button and crank the volume, dropping my head back to the pillow that still smells so much of my runt.

I bury my nose into it and inhale with tears in my eyes, hating everything he is, even as I still need him.

“God, I fucking hate you,” I swear into the air, tears falling freely down the sides of my face. “But I fucking love you, too,” I finally choke out, chasing the words down with more shots of tequila until I can’t feel my face anymore and my consciousness swims into blackness.