Angry God

Arabella desperately tried to pry my fingers off of her neck now. Finally, I let go, pinning her hands to the floor again. Her neck was marred with purple and black Dalmatian dots. My fingertips. I swallowed, refusing to dwell on what I’d done to her.

“Why!” she screamed in my face, twisting like a snake behind me, trying to break free. “Because your asshole father had an affair with my mom, and now my family’s falling apart, and we’re about to lose everything! That’s why! Because one day he came into our house to drop Poppy off, and he never got out of there. My mom is suicidal. My dad is MIA. My sister has no one. All because of you and your stupid family. You should’ve stayed in England!” she roared, throwing her head back and bursting into a sob.

Too shocked to decipher exactly what she was saying, I let her slip from my grasp. My body slacked, and she took advantage of my surprise, pushing me back.

She shook her head. “You are so fucking gross. Like I would ever touch your dad. But I want you and Poppy to burn in hell. You came in with your stupid accent and clothes and bullshit and torched everything I knew and loved. You tore my family apart. Poppy stole Knight. You have Vaughn. What was I left with?” She pushed my chest again, harder. “Nothing!”

“So you and my dad…?” I tried to make sense of what she was saying, let it all sink in.

“Nothing,” she ground out, throwing her arms in the air. “Your dad and I are nothing. But my work here is done. He is miserable. You are going crazy. Poppy lost Knight, the only thing she cared about in America. As for Vaughn? You’re crazy to think he won’t dump you, if he hasn’t already. He’s wired differently.”

I watched her scramble to her feet from my spot on the floor. She wiped her face clean, patting her neck and wincing as she felt the bruises.

“I’m sorry your family is falling apart, Arabella.” Genuinely, I was. Compassion didn’t cost a penny. I knew what it felt like when my family collapsed and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I didn’t wish it upon anyone else—not even my enemies.

So many things collided together in a burst of realization and understanding.

Papa hadn’t touched Arabella.

He had moved on from Mum, eventually, and had an affair.

And the truth behind Arabella’s declaration that Vaughn was different from other boys, that he would leave me. Frankly, he already had.

“Whatever, Lenny. I don’t need your pity.” She flipped her hair, as she did when she was pretending not to be upset, huffing.

Lenny. Not Drusilla or Vampire Girl. That was new.

“You have no idea what it feels like to be me,” she added.

“Do I not?” I stood up, bracing myself on the edge of Uncle Harry’s desk. I was dizzy from all the things that had happened in such a short period of time.

“I lost my mum a week before I got my first period. I had no one to talk to about it. Poppy was so upset, she wouldn’t leave her room for four months afterwards. I arranged toilet paper in my knickers to absorb the blood every month until I found Poppy’s sanitary pads one day. I woke up every morning for a year expecting to see my mum, before remembering she was dead. I secretly hated my father for a while for not being the one to die. He was the one I needed less.”

She swallowed and looked away, blinking at the bare wall where Harry’s painting had once been.

“I stayed here and let my father and sister move away because the day my mother died was the day we stopped being a family and became a man and his two daughters. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. I didn’t feel connected to anything, anyone.”

Arabella sucked her cheeks in. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Not your fault. I came to All Saints High already saddled with an open beef with Vaughn Spencer.” I refrained from getting into the details. “The black eyeliner, hair, piercings, and wild stories about trips to Brazil were camouflage. Obviously, they didn’t do the trick.”

“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes, and I chuckled.

I needed to get out of here. To find Vaughn and Uncle Harry. To speak to my father. Make sure I hadn’t gotten myself into terrible trouble by spreading those posters everywhere.

I walked toward her, brushing my fingers over her arm. She looked up in surprise, a little gasp escaping her wounded throat.

“I hope it all works out when you get back,” I said grimly, despite everything. “I think we both haven’t had it easy, and I hope we can prevail. I think we can, Arabella. I think the best is yet to come.”