Page 20 of The Oath We Give

I’d give her more if she asked, but she won’t. I’d probably give her all of it, content to rot beneath a bridge for the rest of my life.

“Hey! I need another beer!”

When the devil can’t reach you, he sends a drunk, entitled man.

Some guy shoves his way to the front of the bar, knocking into me as he slams his empty bottle on the counter.

“You need to shut the fuck up.” I turn my head to flutter my eyelashes at him. “But we all can’t get what we want, can we?”

Tinx doesn’t bother holding back her laugh as she grabs the asshole’s beer, pushing it in front of him to take so he can return to his group of friends hiding in the corner who stare at women they’ll never actually have the balls to speak to.

“Bitch,” he mutters in my direction, sneering as he looks me up and down.

“Thank God!” I place a hand on my chest, pouting a little. “I was worried you liked me for a second.”

I’m sure he’s confused as he leaves, wondering if his overused insult gave him the upper hand or not, but as my tongue cleans up the salt from the back of my hand, I can’t be bothered to care.

“You’ve got a heart of gold beneath that bitchy exterior, Whittaker.”

“Nope.” I shake my head, pressing the shot glass to my lips and tilting my head back, letting the tequila burn every ounce of responsibility down my throat. “It’s all a plot to trick, to get karma to stop fucking me.”

I reach forward, plucking the lime from her fingers and biting into the flesh of the fruit, letting the citrus add the fire in my throat.

I’m not a good person.

I’m mean, angry, and spiteful, filled with ignored trauma and questions that will never get answers. The only person I can care about is Lilac.

I’m not good. I’m fucked-up, and there is no fixing it.

But that doesn’t matter tonight. The hope is that with every song the DJ plays, every searing tequila shot I take, I’ll go home numb, and for a few hours, I’ll sleep. I’ll feel absolutely nothing, snuggling deeper beneath the blanket of alcohol and ecstasy.

All to escape the fact my mind was so weak it allowed me to fall in love with my captor. All to avoid that stupid fucking text message that was probably a dumb prank.

All to deny how empty I still am.

Another shot goes down, and I’m ready to move to the dance floor so that when the full effect of this illegal candy hits at the perfect time, I can feel the buzz lapping at the shore, just there, ready to drown me in bliss.

“Coraline?”

I bristle, shoulders tightening, spine steeling.

The anonymity West Trinity Falls brings me is what I crave more than anything. There have only been a few times someone has noticed me in here. I’ve only had to slip into the version of myself I hate in the one place I find total freedom three times.

A bitter taste ruins the watermelon gum on my tongue.

When I turn my head, I see a pair of large, curious green eyes stuck to mine. Beams of light slash across our faces as I take her in, the waves of black curls, a cute red dress painting her petite figure.

She looks like everyone and no one. Distinct, small features that make it hard to believe I wouldn’t recognize her, but just enough cover that I might mistake her for someone else.

“Do I know you?” I ask honestly, tone accusatory, my guard trying to slam back up but slow because of the drugs.

A small smile curves her lips as she nods. “Lyra Abbott. We went to high school together and middle school and elementary.”

My eyebrows twitch, pulling together. Trying to find her in my memory is proving difficult, maybe because of the situation, maybe because I just can’t remember. Everything before being kidnapped is blurry.

“It’s alright if you don’t remember me. We barely knew of each other, let alone spoke. But I just wanted to come over and—”

“If you’re here to tell me you’re sorry or ask about what happened,” I snap, a deep exhale flaring my nostrils, “you can leave now. I don’t talk about it. Sorry to disappoint.”