A Gang of Our Own

Chapter Twenty- Seven

Hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes and I glared at him with the most hate imaginable. Cory looked at me innocently with a concerned look on his face.

"Babe? Are you ok?" He tried to touch my face but I slapped his hand away. He jumped back in surprise and gaped at me.

"Quite the act! Do you really think I'm that stupid?" I shouted.

"What are you talking about?"

"Cut the bullshit, Cory!"

"But I-"

"Say it!"

"Say-"

"SAY IT!"

"I didn't-"

"Own it, Cory! Be a man and own it! I'm not an idiot! Say it!"

"Fine. I'm cheating on you. " And he smirked...

The tears began falling and hate boiled inside of me. I don't want to be here.

"Yep. With Monica. She's smoking hot, popular, rich. The total package. And, I guess she made it her goal to steal me from you, and it was easy. Now I just have to tell her the good news." He was smiling. He was actually happy right then.

"You are horrible!" I cried. "Scum of the earth! A dirtbag, and all those other things Matt said! He was right about you!"

"Yes he was. And everyone saw it coming." He casually slipped his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. "Why couldn't you?"

"Because I loved you!"

"You don't know what the hell love is."

"I'll tell you what love is!" I seethed.  "Love is when you cut your finger on a piece of broken glass after a food fight and he runs over to help you clean it up. He checks for glass, runs it under water, and gently puts a Band-Aid on it, soaking his own hand in your blood in the process without blinking an eye at it. Love is how he refuses to make you get up to get a blanket when you're cold because he has a sweatshirt you can wear. Love is when you spill your guts about all the crap you've lived through and he wraps you up in the tightest, warmest hug you've ever experienced. Love is when he randomly takes you out bowling just so he can see you smile and buys you lunch afterwards. Love is when you're ready for your first choir concert and he can't stop telling you how beautiful you are. Love is when he stops you in the hallway, takes your hand, looks into your eyes, and asks you if you'd go to Homecoming with him. Love is when he still looks at you with endless adoration even after you have put him down again and again. Love is how he helps you whenever possible even after you break his heart and don't deserve any of his love. Love is when you are so angry you jump out of the car and run and he does the same to follow you so he could be sure that you were safe. Love is when you have venom dripping from your voice and he has a hold on your arm. You tell him to let go of your arm and he looks into your eyes and promises that he will never let go. That is love, Cory Mathews. You are the one who doesn't know what the hell love is. "

"I knew you and Triston had a thing!" He spat. So he must have cared a little...

"No, you know nothing!" I growled in a barbaric voice. "I know what it means to be faithful. I loved you. I loved only you. That is why I broke Triston's heart so many times. My love for you is what caused this fight between Triston and me in the first place! I can't believe I chose you over Triston!"

"Well nothing is holding you back now!"

"Damn straight!" I sobbed. "Keep your damn money."

I ran out of the house. I ran away from that room, that boy, that disaster and that mistake. I ran for miles on end. I passed my school, DJ's school, the church, Mr. White's, the Morris', and finally arrived at my doorstep. My cheeks were stained with tears, and my hair clung to the wetness. My heart was still pounding from the fading adrenaline when I took the hide-a-key from it's place and unlocked the door. Tears fell silently and my hands shook as I fumbled with the lock. In the stories and movies you hear about broken hearts and this giant whirlwind of emotion seems to sweep over and take over your body and control your every action and every move. The pain and heartache were supposed to be overbearing and too intense to cope with. Your whole body lights up in fire. Some go on a destructive rage, letting hate get the best of them. Some run to friends and family and cry their hearts and souls out. That was how I was supposed to feel, but it wasn't. I didn't feel a thing. I was numb. My heart, my mind, my fingers, and my legs; I couldn't feel them. I was paralyzed.