ROGUE

16 : He Killed Me

Your POV

I stared at myself in the mirror sadly and pulled my lower lip into my mouth to try and ease the burning sensation at the back of my eyes. I was struggling more than I had expected, and grieving just as much as I was when I first found out that Jason was gone.
The dress I was wearing was something that he would've liked; it was black and skin-tight, stopping right at my mind-thigh. I was wearing simple black heels to match as well, along with a permanent frown on my face to define the pain that I was so deeply feeling.

I sighed heavily when Sam approached from behind me and rested his hands on my hips, moving his lips to the skin behind my ear and kissing it softly. I tried my best not to squirm, but the sight of us together in the reflection of the mirror just looked wrong to me. The man behind me was not supposed to be Sam...
But the man it should've been was gone.

"Sam, don't." I murmured, fiddling with the silver bangle on my wrist but making no effort to push him away. "I'm not in the mood."

"But you look so fucking sexy, baby." He growled, sliding his hands down my sides and pressing himself against my back. "Too sexy for a memorial... Why don't you just stay home instead. Entertain me?"

I scoffed and took a step forward out of his reach. "I'm not just here for your entertainment, Sam." I winced, knowing that I actually probably was. I no longer had a personality, and I knew Sam didn't let me live with him just so he could look at me. "And you're not talking me out of this one. It's important to me."

Sam threw his head back and groaned. "Who's memorial even is it?" He sighed, still lingering behind me and complaining. "And why did I only find out about it today?"

"Jason McCann's." Saying his name out loud was difficult and almost immediately brought an intense glossy sheen to shield over my eyes. "And because you never asked."

"Jason McCann?" Sam raised an eyebrow and took a step closer, his tone dripping with a sudden humour. "You mean that criminal-guy who killed himself a few years ago?"

My throat tightened and I inhaled a sharp breath. "That's the one."

Sam waited for a moments to figure out if I was joking, until he sniggered and wrapped his arms back around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "You'd rather go to a criminals funeral than spend time here with me? Especially a criminal who probably killed like... half the population of America, and someone you've ever even met?" He chuckled humorously and looked at me through the reflection of the mirror.

Knots tied inside my stomach and my fists naturally clenched into balls at my sides. "It's not a funeral," I corrected irritably. "It's a memorial for everyone who was... affected by him."

Sam sighed heavily. "And why does that matter to you?"

"Jason killed my parents." I suddenly said emotionlessly, literally only to shut him up. Sam's grip around my waist loosened slightly and his usual smirk on his face dropped. "He also tried to kill my first boyfriend, a few of my friends died because of him... And he also came so very close to killing me." I said blankly.

But he did kill you.

Thick moments of suffocating silence passed, and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded far away. "What?" Sam mumbled. The baffled look on his face was undeniable.

I once again stepped forward out of his grip. "You heard me." I said, shaking my head. "Don't make me say it again."

"Is that why you're fucked up?" Sam questioned harmlessly, not in a tone that was intended to sound nasty, but in a tone that as almost sympathetic. Although he probably didn't make the cleverest use of his vocabulary.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes Sam." I mumbled. "That is exactly why I'm fucked up."

"You never told me." He pressed, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "Why did you never tell me?"

"Is it really any of your business?" I asked, spinning around to face him and meeting all of the unanswered questions that were pooling in his electric blue eyes.

"Yeah because you're my girlfriend, Y/n. That's kind of something I should know." He squinted at me, and I felt myself gritting my teeth together in a hardly-controllable anger.

Another moment passed before I eventually shook my head and pulled my black cardigan from the back of the dressing room chair and began to slide it on. "Don't worry, Sam." I said spitefully as I turned towards the door. I rested my hand on the handle and looked over my shoulder at him; and he was looking puzzled and confused in every way possible. "It doesn't affect the sex."

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