Going 78 Miles Per Hour | ✓

25 | Pit Crew

I don't fucking want that.

"She's fine." I clear my throat, dropping my gaze to the ground. "We don't have to talk about her—"

"Harlow," Claudia commands, gripping her voice with authority. "If she's telling you things, that's great. It's good to have a friend. But, if you cannot hold in information that could potentially hurt her."

I turn and scowl. The assumption grips at me harder than anything else. "I'm not hurting her."

"No, you're not intentionally hurting her. There's a difference. If you're withholding information about her situation because she asked you to, or because you think it's best for her—that's deadly." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine with a seriousness that cannot be fathom. "You can't save her."

Bullshit.

"You don't know her." I spat, standing from my spot. "She's not just some girl you study in a book, she's human. She's a person, her situation is different from a normal abusive household—and she trusts me when she tells me shit. And it's fragile. I'm not going to break her trust just because you told me to."

Claudia stands, matching her stance with mine. While I tower over her in height, she continues to stand proud and tall. "Toxic households are difficult to identify and though she doesn't live in a physically abusive home, there's triggers that could potentially lead to that. If she's told you something about her father that gives off red flags, you have to tell me. For the safety of her wellbeing."

I'm getting pissed off. Claudia doesn't understand how hard it was to get Dahlia to open up to me. If Claudia does something—I'll be the one to blame. I'll lose her trust.

I don't need your help. I can handle this myself.

"No," I shake my head, crossing my arms stubbornly. "You're going to fuck it up for me. Claudia, if you do something that jeopardize that relationship we built, I'll never fucking forgive you."

"I'm not going to do anything!" She declares, her voice pleading, almost desperate. "You need to understand, you can't be the sole savior to her entire situation. She'll need help—help to get her away from her father."

I growl, "that's what I'm fucking doing! I'm helping her learn how to drive, so she could get to her internship and she could receive her scholarship from SAINT. When she does, she gets to leave her father and she gets to live. Don't you fucking understand?"

"I do! But what you're doing is you're presenting her with a temporary situation, and while getting away from her father is top priority, you have to consider external factors. What if she can't? What about her situation now? I don't want to say it, but what if something happens between now and her graduation?"

I know what she's implying, and I grit my teeth in retaliation. The thought of that asshole hurting Dahlia is beyond me—and if that happens, I don't know what I'll do.

I'll fucking kill him.

"I got it," I said through clenched teeth. "And I'll handle everything that comes her way—but I'm not telling you shit, Claudia. She trusts me."

"You can't be her only source of outlet!"

"Why the fuck not?!"

My breathing ragged, and I stare at Claudia with daggers. Her claim speaks volume, and they echo through my head like a pestering acknowledgement. You can't save her.

"Because," Claudia sucks in a breath, levelling her eyes with mine—despite the harsh look I'm sending her way, "what happens after she leaves? What happens to all the years of abuse she faced? What happens to her unresolved trauma?"

I shake my head, turning away from Claudia. "I've got it handled."

"Do you? Do you really? Harlow, I don't know if you realize—but you don't exactly scream the type that resolved their own trauma. I don't know what you been through—"

"Exactly!" I snap back to her, my eyes blazing. "You don't know what the fuck I've experienced, you don't get to say shit about my situation. I'm dealing, and what's going on with Dahlia is none of your business. If I need your help, I would've fucking asked."

And with that, I turn around and left.

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