23 BLAKE, 1998

17 years old

I was going to hell. Not in the biblical, fire-and-brimstone, eternal-damnation kind of way. No demons with pitchforks, no lakes of fire, no judgment day waiting to weigh my sins. But hell, all the same. A slow, steady descent, one choice at a time.

Because every time Beverly tested me, I failed.

Every time she pushed, I let her.

Every time she looked at me with those knowing eyes, daring me to crack, I felt myself slipping.

Hell wasn’t a place; it was a state of being.

And Beverly was dragging me there, one step at a time. Little by little, inch by inch, with every word that left her lips. It was in the way she tilted her head, feigning innocence, even as her words slithered beneath my skin like poison.

She played me like a puppet, and I danced. I hated her for it. Not in any way that made sense. I hated her in the way an addict hates the thing that ruins them, that strips them of everything they once were, but still craves it more than air.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she whispered about some guy with nice eyes.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she leaned in just close enough for me to catch the scent of her shampoo.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she smiled at me like she was winning.

I sat there in the parking lot, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from pulling her back into the car and making her admit she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

She walked up the driveway, playing with her messy bun like she wasn’t aware of every single nerve in my body firing at once.

And I just sat there. Waiting for her to turn around.

Waiting for her to give me one last look.

Because that’s what we did, right?

That was the pattern.

She’d push, I’d pull back. She’d test, I’d refuse to break.

She stopped at the front door, her fingers curling around the handle. And for a second I thought maybe this time would be different. Maybe she’d let me breathe. Maybe she’d let this one day pass without leaving another mark.

But then she turned her head slightly, just enough for me to catch the glint of mischief in her blue eyes.

Just enough for me to see that smug little smile on her face.

She stretched her arms above her head, all lazy and satisfied, like she hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes messing with me.

I knew she was going to text me the second she got inside.

I exhaled slowly, jaw tight.

I needed to get out of this damn car.