Yin & Yang

"Maybe this was starting to look like a UFC fight"

Adam P.O.V.

I fucked up.

I mean I royally fucked up. What the hell is wrong with me? I manage to mess up anything good in my life. Out of all the things I should be saying to Annette, I go and bring up the one thing that I know tears her apart from the inside out. Her brother.

The moment those accusing words slipped out of my drunken mouth I knew I had fucked up. I knew there was no turning back. Annette’s impassive face had slipped from her features and for the first time since she came back, I saw real emotion from her. Her face had crumbled as the memories of that night flashed across her eyes; pain, regret, guilt, self-hate. I might have finally seen some emotion in those dead eyes, but those were not the emotions I ever wanted to see again.

The rest of that weekend was spent with me repeatedly banging my head against the wall, constantly calling Annette, and even showing up at her doorstep, to no avail. And that was so unlike me, I never and I mean never was this desperate for any girl. Usually, they would be the ones making fools of themselves for my attention. It was just Annette, always Annette that made me this way.

Made me so unsure of myself, so desperate for approval and attention, and so goddamn head over heels idiotic. When she left without any notice after the funeral, I was broken. I couldn’t stomach anything or sleep for weeks. It literally felt like I had no oxygen in my lungs, it felt like she had died. But, it was me. A part of me had died.

At first I couldn’t cope because I knew everything that had happened was my fault and all around town was evidence of that. The bridge their car fell over was where they had a candlelit vigil. Charlie’s locker became a monument of him with photos, flowers, and mementos. And everywhere I looked I saw grief-stricken faces all whispering about how it was Annette that made him get her from the party, that it was her fault. But, they didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t know that I was a shitty boyfriend, that she ran out of the house because I was too drunk to keep it in my pants.

Every time someone would blame her I wanted to scream at them because she wasn’t there to defend herself and I was too much of a coward to admit that it was my fault, that everything was my fault.

Ava even had the audacity to blame Annette once, but I made sure to set her straight on that fact.

I just had to blurt that out while playing that stupid drinking game with Annette. Admittedly, I expected her to do what she always used to do; cry constantly until I climbed through her window and apologized and then she would forgive me. But, of course that wasn’t what she did.

Instead, she went out and partied some more which was similar to what the old Annette used to do. When I saw her yesterday, it was like that party never happened because she had a neutral look on her face and that stupid smirk on her lips. But, I knew that she was bottling everything up inside like she always used to do.

So, now I’m sitting in Psych and pulling at the ends of my dark hair trying to think of something to say when Annette arrives. I keep wracking my mind for anything, but by avoiding the subjects of Charlie, the past, and the party there wasn’t much left to converse about.

The final bell rings and as if on cue, Annette saunters in. Even though she has been back in school for almost two weeks, her presence here still shocks me and leaves me breathless. Her cardigan barely conceals the black tank top that hugs her curves perfectly and her jeans ride low on her waist, exposing her stomach.

But, she looked worn out. Like, the years she was away had drained the life out of her. Her eyes held none of the warmth or mischievousness it used to, her skin looked pale, and her hair lacked in luster. She had light purple shadows under her eyes, indicating her lack of sleep and if I knew Annette that would mean that she was extra-