Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 41

I rubbed the gauze on my knuckles, wishing the pain outside could numb the ache inside. I wanted to believe I was doing the right thing. That keeping my distance would let her be happy. That it would protect me from being broken further. But sometimes, logic wasn’t enough. Sometimes, the heart was too stubborn to listen. And maybe... maybe I was more broken than I cared to admit.

I sat back, staring at the cracked mirror shard still glinting on the floor. The new Matt. The cold Matt. The Matt who didn’t get invited, didn’t get noticed, didn’t get caught up in the chaos of feelings anymore.

That Matt was supposed to be stronger. Smarter. Logical.

I told myself this was survival. Not weakness. Not failure.

I wasn’t broken... I was finished. Finished with waiting for something that would never come. Finished with the endless games of pretending I didn’t care. But in the quiet moments.... when no one was looking... I felt the weight of what I’d lost. The easy laughter. The small glances. The friendship I used to think would last. I missed that version of myself. The one who hoped. But hoping hurt too much. So I shoved it down. I wasn’t the hero in this story. I wasn’t the boy who saved Betty. Maybe I was just the shadow. The leftover pieces nobody wanted. And maybe, just maybe, that was easier to live with. Because if I let myself feel any more, if I let myself hope again, I might break completely.

I pulled the leather jacket tighter around my shoulders, the worn collar biting into my neck like it belonged to someone else. The night was thick and heavy when I slipped out, the cool air slapping my face like a dare. The engine roared under my hands, a sound that didn’t ask for explanations, didn’t expect apologies.

The bar was the usual dive, smell of stale beer and cigarettes folding into the shadows. I claimed a seat at the far end, the one nobody bothered to reach. Tonight, I wasn’t the good kid. Not the one everyone thought would fix himself and make the family proud. Tonight, I was just me. Raw. Ragged. Ready to forget. The first drink hit like fire, burning away the weight of Betty’s smile that wasn’t meant for me, the way James carried her like she was a prize he never wanted to lose. The neat rows of responsibilities waiting at home, the sighs of my grandmother hoping I’d be better than this, none of it mattered here. I downed another glass, the bitterness settling deep in my gut. For once, I wanted my thoughts to revolve only around myself, my scars, my rage. No more ghosts of what could’ve been. No more pretending. Just the cold truth and a bottle to keep it company. The bar swallowed me whole, the bass rattling my chest like a freight train, sticky air thick with sweat and spilled beer. Neon lights flickered above, casting sickly green shadows that danced across cracked tables and worn leather booths. Glasses collided in drunken cheers; laughter spilled over, sharp and raw.

Then she slid beside me. A girl in a green dress that caught the dim light, making her look like a poison ivy vine crawling into my world. Her short hair was sharp, perfect, like a blade cutting through my fog.

“Hey,” she said, voice low but daring.

“Hey,” I replied, throat tight and voice rough as gravel.

“You might know me but...”

“I know you,” I snapped, eyes cold and calculating.

She smiled, thin and sly, lips painted with a dark gloss that caught the bar light just right. “Then you might want to hear me out. Do you want to get her back? Betty?” She sounded amused, like this was some game.

I looked at her, the air around us thick with cigarette smoke and stale whiskey breath. She radiated the same bitterness that churned inside me, dark, relentless.

“Talk.”

“We want the same thing,” she said, leaning closer until I could smell the faint mix of jasmine and liquor on her skin. “You want Betty, and I want James. We were both left on the sidelines, discarded like trash.”

She snatched my glass, slammed down the whiskey shot like a medicine to dull the pain.

“You and me, casualties of their love,” she whispered, eyes gleaming like broken glass. “Now it’s time to take back what’s ours.”

Her words settled heavy in my chest, thudding like the bass still shaking the floor beneath us. Make James jealous, she said. Easy, James already fears me. If he sees me close with Betty, she’d fall for it... drawn to the broken, just like always. James would break, and that would shatter them.

For a moment, it felt like a sweet poison. A dream dripping in revenge and possibility. But I’m not that man. I can’t use Betty like a weapon. She deserves more than to be played. I reached out, fingers curling around her chin, skin cold beneath my rough touch. Her grin widened, almost mocking.

“You’re sly, Olive,” I said, voice low and hard. “I’m down and out, yeah, but I’m not that kind of monster. If you hurt Betty, I swear, I’ll hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

I let go, stepping back, muscles coiled tight.

I stood up leaving her face down but not in defeat but in boiling rage. I turned to her and said... “Have some self-respect at least. That’s the kind of decency people like you and me have left."

I pushed through the smoke and noise, the stale stench of the bar lingering in my nostrils, and left her there, a shadow in the neon haze.

I collapsed into the driver’s seat, the stiff leather biting into my skin through my jacket. My hands wrapped tight around the cold steering wheel, fingers trembling with a fury I couldn’t choke down. Without thinking, I slammed my fist hard into the center, crack! The sharp sting shot up my wrist, sparks of pain blooming into my knuckles, raw and burning.

Then the car alarm exploded into the night, an ear-splitting scream that rattled my bones and set my teeth on edge. The relentless blare stabbed through the silence, shaking me to my core, like my whole body was screaming a warning I refused to hear before: Betty is in danger.

My chest tightened, ribs aching as each breath came shallow and ragged. I felt a hot pulse pounding in my temples, a frantic rhythm echoing the chaos inside me. My jaw clenched so hard I tasted blood, bitter and metallic on my tongue.

I closed my eyes, the cold sweat prickling on my forehead, my hands still clutching the wheel so tightly they ached. I may be a coward for not telling her how I truly feel, I thought, my mind a whirlpool of doubt and resolve, but I’m brave enough to protect her, even in the shadows, even in silence.

The engine growled to life beneath me, vibrating through the seat, a dull rumble that grounded me. Outside, the night air was cool and heavy, pressing against my skin like the weight of every unspoken word and every broken promise.

Tires hissed against the asphalt as I pulled away, the steady vibration beneath me a small comfort in the storm raging inside. I drove, every muscle taut, every nerve on fire, back home, back to the fight I couldn’t stop....

....back to her.