THE WEIGHT OF GUILT
LUKE
The crisp October air stung my face as I stepped out of the house, my school uniform feeling tighter than usual, as if it were suffocating me. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional sound of rustling leaves swirling in the wind. I walked with purpose, my head low, my bag slung over one shoulder, but the truth was, my steps were aimless.
At the corner of the block, I made a sharp turn into a dimly lit alley, slowing my pace until I reached a narrow opening between two crumbling brick walls. I glanced over my shoulder to ensure no one was watching before slipping through. The familiar scent of mildew and damp concrete greeted me as I emerged into the hidden corner of my world.
This routine had become my lifeline over the past two weeks since the incident. Every morning, I would dress up, pretend to go to school, and then vanish into this secluded alley. No one noticed my absence—not my family, not the school. It was safer this way.
I leaned against the cold wall, letting the weight of my guilt press down on me. Every breath felt heavy, like I was dragging the memory of that day with me wherever I went.
The betrayal in Violet’s eyes haunted me. I could still see her face, pale and tear-streaked, as she realized what I had done. My chest ached as regret pierced through me, sharp and unrelenting.
She had trusted me. She had been my friend, the only person who made me feel seen, who made my heart race in ways I couldn’t explain. And I had thrown it all away—for what? A pathetic attempt to protect myself?
I shut my eyes, willing the memories to fade, but they didn’t. I had hoped—prayed—that she would report the kidnappers the moment Ryan rescued her. I had spent every day since bracing myself for the inevitable knock on the door, the police bursting in to haul me away.
But it hadn’t happened yet.
Maybe she was too shaken to act, or maybe she had decided to wait. Either way, it didn’t matter. My days were numbered, and I knew it. Running away wasn’t an option—I couldn’t risk dragging my family into this mess. So, I hid here, in this forgotten corner of the city, a coward waiting for his punishment.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. I straightened up, my heart pounding as I turned toward the source.
Before I could register who it was, a fist connected with my jaw, sending me sprawling to the ground.
Pain exploded across my face, and I tasted blood.
“Well, shit,” I muttered, trying to sit up, but another punch landed, harder this time.
“Motherfucker!”
The voice was low and feral, laced with rage. I didn’t need to look to know who it was. I’d been expecting him.
Ryan.
He grabbed my collar roughly, hauling me to my feet as he delivered another punch to my stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air, but he didn’t stop.
“You broke her trust!” he growled, slamming me against the wall.
A kick to my side. I crumpled to the ground.
“You fucking hurt her!” Another kick.
I didn’t fight back. I didn’t even raise my hands to protect myself. I deserved this. Every punch, every kick—I took it all.
“You piece of shit!”
His voice reverberated in the narrow alley, each word a hammer driving the nails of my guilt deeper.
By the time he was done, I was a broken heap on the ground, my body bruised and battered, my face swollen and bleeding. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, and every breath was a struggle.
Through swollen eyes, I looked up at him.
In all the years I had known Ryan, I had never seen him like this. Gone was the golden boy, the perfect image he projected to the world. This version of him was unhinged, dangerous—a man consumed by fury.
And it was all because of Violet.
The realization hit me like another punch to the gut. She meant everything to him. I had never stood a chance.
“You were her best friend,” he said, his voice low and eerily calm now. The shift in his tone was more chilling than his earlier rage. “Were.”
The weight of that single word crushed me. Past tense. Whatever bond we had was gone, shattered beyond repair.
“You don’t deserve her kindness. You never did,” he continued, his dark eyes boring into mine. “She didn’t even want to involve the cops because she still valued your friendship.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Even after everything you did, she’s still trying to save you. Do you realize how fucking lucky you are?”
My chest tightened, his words slamming into me like a freight train. She’s trying to save me??
“She’s too good for this world,” Ryan muttered, more to himself than to me. His hands clenched into fists again, but he didn’t move. “Too good for people like you. Like me.”
He took a step back, his gaze still locked on me, and for a moment, I thought he might hit me again. Instead, he spat on the ground near my feet and turned to leave.
“You stay the hell away from her,” He said. “Because if you hurt her again, no amount of guilt is going to save you from me Luke Carter”
I stayed on the ground,the chill of the air seeping into my bones. The pain in my body was nothing compared to the hollow ache inside me
He glanced back at me, his gaze sharp and unwavering. “And don’t think that the anonymous text you sent makes up for what you did. Nothing will ever make up for it.”
Shock rippled through me, tightening my throat. How does he know?
Ryan smirked, as though he’d read my mind. “Next time, try harder to cover your digital tracks. It wasn’t exactly difficult to find you.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice felt caught in the weight of his disdain. He started to walk away.
“Wait,” I croaked, summoning every ounce of energy I had left. My body screamed in protest, pain radiating from every bruised muscle, but I refused to give in. Not yet.
Ryan half-turned, his face carved in stone, his eyes brimming with unrelenting hatred. “What?” he snapped, his tone sharp.
“Please,” I whispered hoarsely. “Don’t tell her about the text. Let her hate me. I deserve it.”
For a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered across Ryan’s face. His jaw tensed, his gaze softening ever so slightly before the hardness returned, masking whatever vulnerability had briefly surfaced.
“The difference between you and her,” he said coldly, “is that even after what you’ve done, she isn’t capable of hating you. But knowing about the text will only make her forgive you, and I can’t allow that. She might let you off the hook, but I won’t.”
His words hung heavy in the air as he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the distance before I could muster another word
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
