Page 22 of Twisted Heathens
I shove a gangly kid out of the way. “Move.”
Fucking hell. This place is packed. I told Kade that I wasn’t in the mood, but the persistent bastard refused to leave my room until I promised to come down for dinner. Literally stood there and stared at me, demanding my attendance like some kind of patrol guard.
Four-eyed fucker. He’ll give up one day.
Until then, he’s a pain in the ass.
I grab some of the crappy looking food and a soda. May as well fuel up while I’m here. The gym is calling me. Need to beat the shit out of something, but apparently violence isn’t a healthy coping mechanism. Thanks Mariam, fucking thanks.
They wonder why people ridicule those who do therapy. It’s hardly surprising, the entire thing is a joke. The biggest waste of three hours a week. Time that could be spent pounding a boxing bag or some sweet pussy. I wonder if Britt is still mad at me. I could use a round or two.
“Hudson!”
Kade is waving me over, looking more relieved than I’m comfortable with. How does he keep that act up twenty-four seven? It’s exhausting just watching him. Mr Perfect with the shirt and manners, swanning around and cosying up to management. Doesn’t anyone else see through it? All the fake bullshit? It makes me sick.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I mutter, avoiding his hopeful eyes.
He settles down, clearly trying to contain himself. Let’s face it, I know that I’m awful to him. It’s more than he deserves, but he isn’t obligated to stick around. Not anymore. I take no responsibility for hurting his stupid little feelings until he finally leaves.
“Thanks for coming,” he offers.
I inwardly recoil. More emotional manipulation, making me feel like the worst person in the world. Which obviously, I am. Why else would I be trapped in this shithole for another eighteen months?
“Maybe you’ll get off my goddamn back already.”
“I’m just looking out for you, Hud.”
Not fucking likely.
“How many times have they called this week?” I demand.
He immediately glances away. “They care about you. We all do.”
“Is that so?”
“Come on, lay off. You know we do,” Kade snaps.
I’m tempted to smash my fist in his face. Beyond tempted. But any more strikes on my record, and the warden threatened to send me to the hole. Even I have enough sense to avoid that. My head’s fucked enough. I’ve seen the kids that come out of the basement level, shaking like a fucking leaf and muttering shit that doesn’t make sense. They aren’t the same people that went in.
“If that were true, I wouldn’t be here. It’s as simple as that,” I argue.
Kade drops his fork with a clatter, slumping back in the seat. “Seriously? We still going with the excuses?”
“It’s not an excuse.”
Hazel eyes burn across my skin, loaded with contempt. The hope is utterly extinguished from him by my words. I prefer it when he hates me. It’s easier this way, rather than him constantly trying to save me. I’m on a path to self-destruction and I fucking love it. Beyond redemption, baby. To hell with them all.
“Well, you should know that a lawyer is coming to see you next week. You won’t leave here until you start making progress,” he adds.
“Not necessary. Cancel it.”
Kade rubs his face, breathing deeply. “You’re impossible.”
I finish my drink, crunching the can in one hand without even blinking. “You are the one being stubborn as shit, big brother. As usual.”
This clean shirt bastard is my fucking brother. Who’d have thought it? We’re as different as night and day. Yet here we are. Stuck together, for better or worse.
He doesn’t answer. There’s an awkward silence, filled with all the words we can’t say. If I were a good person, I would fill it with promises and heartfelt platitudes. Thanking him for putting up with me all these years, or promising to clean my act up so we can both go home. But that’s never going to happen and the sooner he realises that, the better. For all of us.