Deals With The Devil's Spawn

Your depravity is starting to show

Porter's POV

After yelling at Brayden and chewing his ass out, our relationship, for some reason, had improved. I'd learned that day that the guy was definitely missing some screws, not seeming to be bothered at all by the fact that I had unloaded some fucked up information on him. People usually left when they heard of the murders, not wanting to take the chance that I could turn out exactly like him.

When they heard the rest of the story, they avoided me at all cost, never making any eye contact and going out of their way to not be stuck in the same room as me. I couldn't blame them, I would do the same. Brayden, however, had taken what I'd told him and acted as though I was telling him that I shit like every other person.

I didn't know what to do with that. Brayden wasn't doing things by my book. In my book people had three different reactions. They recoiled in disgust, they stormed off, a bitter taste in their mouth every time my family name came to their mind, or they yelled as hard as they could and told me all the hateful things they thought of my family.

I'd fully expected him to yell back even harder than I had. Tell me that yes, I was a psychopath, he didn't need my bullshit, and storm out. Instead he'd brushed it off, and made a joke. Yeah, the guy was heading down a smooth road to the Looney bin.

I had wanted him to walk away, I'd crossed my fingers that he would. My feelings for him were growing by the day, and the only way to get rid of them, was to get rid of him. I was still hoping that somehow he'd see that I was a lunatic, say fuck it and never look back. But the guy was stubborn, and he'd somehow convinced himself that he wanted to be friends with the daughter of a deranged dick.

As good as things were going with him, my life at school was slowly becoming a living hell. People were angry. They were angry that one of their beloved hockey players, and a Cavanaugh at that, had affiliated himself with one of the Mathews. That anger, of course, was expressed with threatening notes in my locker, dirty stares, nasty rumors and the occasional physical altercation. I'd kept all of this to myself, seeing no reason to get anyone else involved. I'd been through this already and knew how it worked. All I had to do was ignore them and keep my head down; they would eventually get bored and move on.

So I kept my head down, and ignored the way they intentionally shoved me in the hallway. I ignored the dirty stares and the crude remarks directed my way. I ignored all of it. I ignored it all because like I'd so nicely yelled at Brayden, there was nothing I could do. How do you stand up to an entire town? How do you tell five-thousand plus people that they're wrong when you're not even sure that they are?

As I sat behind the counter at the diner, a magazine in my hand, I thought about the girl who had cornered me in the bathroom, and threatened to ruin me if I didn't break up with Brayden. I thought about the way her eyes had hardened as she looked me up and down, a sneer on her lips. She'd been so angry, and I couldn't help but wonder if Brayden had slept with her. I had sympathised with her then, knowing how easy it was to catch feelings for him.

"I'm heading home, clumsy. It's slow, and I have a date," Meghan informed as she pulled her apron off, and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder.

I watched her gather her things, quietly. Meghan was undoubtedly beautiful, but it was the confidence she carried herself with that made her truly stunning. I remember wishing that I could have that confidence when I first met her. She'd stared at me with her clear blue eyes, a smug smile on her face, before moving her long blond locks over her shoulder. She'd then walked off, letting me know not to get in her way, and to try and keep up.

"Hey, creepy, I said I'm leaving," she spoke up once again, snapping me out of my thoughts, my eyes lifting to meet impatient blue ones. "Make sure to close up before you leave."