Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

you entered the cafeteria on the first day of our senior year, my first thought was that you were so fucking cute. I thought you were cute and so shy, and you needed someone to take care of you. And in that split second, I felt I could be the one to take care of you.”

My hand gripped the sheet as I took a quivering breath.

“That was a red flag for me. I thought and felt something that was forbidden—something I felt for the first time since Emma’s death—and I didn’t like it. I couldn’t feel that way. I couldn’t let some strange girl get to me after—what? Just one glance? It was pathetic. So I told myself you were most definitely a manipulative bitch and just acting all shy and cute. You weren’t someone who should be protected, and you certainly weren’t someone I could ever trust. I didn’t trust people. I couldn’t trust you. That’s where that welcome party comes in.”

I stared at my hands in my lap, frowning as the images of the first day of school rolled through my mind. “You’ve never given me the chance to prove myself to you,” I whispered into my chin. “You just pegged me as bad and continued to bully me.”

He turned around to face me, a veil of regret shading his face. “That day, yes, but that’s not all. The welcome party was like my knee-jerk reaction to you. But then, that night, I had the first nightmare. And the next day, the flashbacks started again, followed by panic attacks and more nightmares. The more I saw you, the harder it was, and I blamed you. I blamed you for bringing my symptoms back, and I had to get you away from me, so I did all I could to make you leave, as you now know.”

I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to alleviate the rising ache that throbbed there. It hurt a lot hearing this, but at least he was finally giving me the truth. He wasn’t sugarcoating it. He was just stating the facts from the past, but that past still had power over me, just like his past still had power over him.

“But you stopped after New Year’s Eve. For a while, you acted like I didn’t exist. And then you started again before we got detention.”

He smiled regretfully. “That’s because I was so jealous and angry when I saw you with Robinson. So I started lashing out. I didn’t want to admit I wanted you, and I even convinced myself it was all to punish you for affecting me the way you had from day one, but each time I saw you with him or Burks, I felt so possessive. But you weren’t mine. Not by a long shot.”

I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Do you still blame me? For bringing your symptoms back?”

He looked back through the window and fisted his hand against the glass. “No. I still don’t know why your arrival made my PTSD worse, but that’s not your fault. It was never your fault. It’s all about my sick mind.”

I stood up and walked over to him. “Don’t say it like that, Blake.”

“How do you want me to say it? It’s true. I could try to rationalize it, but there’s really no excuse for what I’ve done. There will never be. And I realized too late that hurting you only made things worse. It made me feel like shit. It fueled my guilt…so much guilt that it seemed endless.”

He pressed his forehead and hands flat against the glass, his body tensing all over again.

“Sometimes, I’m so tired of myself. I’m sick and tired of constantly navigating through life with my stupid traumas and PTSD. I’m sick and tired of this explosive rage.” He hit his fist against the glass hard enough to make it shake. “I’m tired of being this shitty person.”

I stopped next to him and looked out the window. The trees surrounding the estate ebbed into nothing in the distance, merging with the starry sky that stretched indefinitely. The full moon created a bright pathway that continued into the dark nothingness, and the contrast between light and dark was mesmerizing. They complemented each other, just like hope complemented despair.

“There is hope, Blake. I can only imagine how hard life with PTSD can be, but as long as we don’t give up on hope, things can get better. We can better ourselves. You can be someone better than a bully.”

He turned to look at me with dull eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s too late for me to better myself, but I can do something right for a change.” The final tone of his words carried a clear meaning, and the lead in my stomach returned to drag me down.

“Revenge.” I barely whispered the word, but its impact was echoing in my mind and heart.

“Revenge,” he confirmed, and I closed my eyes, fighting against the tears.

“But I don’t understand. How can you face them with your PTSD?” As soon as I asked this question, I realized this must’ve been what Masen had asked him about after they lost the race to Bobby Q. Blake had PTSD, but he was ready to face his tormentors directly in order to get justice.

“By staying focused on what needs to be done. I’ll go through hell if I have to.”

His harsh words helped me fully grasp what our reality meant. Everything we’d shared had happened on borrowed time—each kiss, hug, caress, and soft-spoken word. Our bodies dancing the first and final dance until the song was over and the never-ending silence took over our lives.

Blake cared for me, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to conquer his need for revenge. It wasn’t enough for him to want to keep living, and that was the sharpest shard that penetrated my heart and created a puncture that took away all the hope and joy.

Anything was better than this. Even