Page 10 of The Wreckage of Us

“It’s already past midnight.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Charlie replied as he lit up a cigarette. “Just get out.”

Mama didn’t say a word. She was back to watching television as if she hadn’t just taken part in crushing my soul.

I swallowed hard and walked toward my bedroom. I didn’t know where I was going to go or what I was going to do. All I knew was I had sixty minutes to gather up my life and leave.

There was something so unnerving about realizing your whole life could fit inside two garbage bags. I walked out of the house without any send-off and fought the tears that were pushing at the backs of my eyes.

My first thought of places to go was Garrett’s trailer—my on-again, off-again boyfriend. He was also Charlie’s nephew and his right-hand man in their family business. Garrett’s big dream was to take over for Charlie at some point down the line. He idolized his uncle, which was a major flaw in my mind. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to be like Charlie. He wasn’t someone to look up to at all.

Garrett’s and my relationship was currently off, due to the fact that he had a way of sleeping with women who weren’t me. He said it was my own fault, because I wouldn’t have sex with him, but that was idiotic. I’d never understand how a cheater could blame anyone other than their unfaithfulness, but then again, I was the dummy who went back to him time and time again.

It was amazing how low self-esteem could make you fall into the wrong arms.

As I approached Garrett’s place, I was reminded of a trait I’d inherited from my mother: dating assholes.

“You can’t stay here, unless you get on your knees,” Garrett said, blowing out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette. He wore a plaid top and jean shorts that were too big for his slender frame. A ratty old belt held them up on his hips.

“Don’t be gross, Garrett. Listen, Charlie kicked me out. I need a place to crash for tonight at least.”

“Like I said, on your knees, or you can find another place to crash.”

“Are you joking?”

“Am I laughing?”

Just then, a girl walked up behind him, and I recognized her right away. Megan Kilt—the same girl who Garrett had said was just a friend. Back then I’d known better than to believe him.

The moment Megan saw me, a wicked grin fell against her lips. “Well, if it isn’t gothic Barbie,” she cooed. “Really, why do you wear so much eyeliner? It’s overkill.”

I flipped her off and looked back to Garrett. “Just let me crash on your couch tonight, and you can do whatever you want with bimbo Barbie,” I offered. “I’ll even wear earplugs.”

“Sorry, Hazel. Charlie told me to not take you in. Said you needed some tough love.”

There was nothing loving about what Charlie was doing to me. It was cruel.

“Charlie won’t have to know.”

“Charlie knows everything. Even the shit that you think he doesn’t.”

I hated that it was true. It was as if Charlie had eyes in the back of his head and was able to be a step ahead of everything and everyone.

Garrett blew another puff of smoke, and Megan wrapped her hands around his shoulders, as if she was trying to make it clear that he was now her play toy. Fine by me. I’d always known Garrett wasn’t the one for me. He was just the one who was always there.

Except when I needed him the most.

Garrett was the bad boy that romance novels made you think you wanted, though, unlike the novels, he didn’t have a turning point. There wasn’t a moment when he said the right thing or spoke to me in such a poetic way that I fell more in love with him each day. He didn’t make sacrifices for our relationship or surrender himself to our love.

He was just Garrett, the boy who was there when no other guys would look my way. I wished that I could’ve said I was strong enough to look away, but sometimes loneliness made you crave any kind of connection—even from those who sucked your soul dry.

The only difference between him and Charlie was the fact that Garrett would never put his hands on me. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t physically abusive like Charlie.

Still, that didn’t make him someone worth worshipping.

Sometimes I wished Garrett was a fictional character.

I would’ve killed to see his growth.