Page 97 of Pretty Broken Wings

I’m mad. I’m more than mad. I’m murderous. Even though I have no right to be. I dug my grave while Gage swept in and wooed her off her feet.

Raven. Wooed. I didn’t think that was possible. It shouldn’t have been possible.

She’s faking it. I grip my drink so hard my fingers ache.

So what if she’s faking it, Axel? She hates you so much that she’ll actually fall in love with him just to spite you.

Raven and I have the same hate burning in our bones. I know for a fact she’d rather love my brother than ever fall for my advances.

I pound a drink, embracing the burning sting as it goes down. I revel in it. But as soon as the sting is there, it’s gone. This is where Raven came after I got her fired. I came here to feel something. Anything. Even if it’s guilt.

Someone slides up next to me, talking between song sets. “Burrito night is weird for a club, yeah?”

I glance over to see a pretty blonde woman in her thirties motioning at a menu. I didn’t even know they had menus here. I think I recognize the woman from around, but I’m not sure. She’s probably one of the ones I left hanging just because it’s fun to watch them get frantic. She has to be desperate if she’s at a strip club.

The woman eyes me up and down with a hungry look. Like she’s hungry for the kind of meat that doesn’t come on a menu.

My body has no reaction. I look away.

“Bad day?” she yells over the music and waves the bartender over.

I go back to staring at the wall.

“Is it a woman?”

I blink slowly. The woman beside me is pretty with petite features and blue eyes. Something I’d normally like. But there’s no interest. She just looks like another wall decoration.

I think I’m drunk already.

“That bad, huh?” The woman takes her shot.

I frown. What is she talking about? All I can think about is Raven. At home with my brother. The pretty sounds coming out of her lips as my brother fucks her.

Gage was always the better one between us. He always got good grades, always loved Mom, was polite to Rich, and saved animals. He never seemed to get angry like I did.

The alcohol rolls in my head, making my thoughts jumbled and emotional. I’m not sure why I’m so angry. I can’t stop. But I can cover it up well. Boy, can I cover it up. A smile here, a flirt there. And people fall for it. They love it. They walk away, never knowing the real me. I get all the pussy I want, and I go home alone. And I have risky sex, too. I get high off the danger—the possibility of an STD, the possibility of a pregnancy, the handprints, the ropes, the blood.

And yet, it all feels the same at the end of the day. Adrenaline, orgasm, crash.

Hate.

Hate, hate, hate.

Sex means nothing to me, and yet, I hate myself enough to keep doing it.

I used to think that was the life. But at some point, it gets boring. Surely there’s more, right?

No, it didn’t just randomly get this way. This fucking bullshit started after Raven walked into my life, all soulful eyes and fucking burning hate.

She hates just like me. Only she doesn’t hide it.

I curl my lip, gripping my shot glass.

“Well, my day’s been shit, so I'll drink with you.” The woman lifts her drink to me in a cheers.

I forgot she was there. I look at her closely. She doesn't look like she hates. She looks soft. Tired. A little dead inside.

Nothing like a good pity-fuck to get me to hate myself even more.