Taming 7 (Boys of Tommen Book 5) -
Taming 7: Chapter 77
“It’s going to be okay.” With one arm wrapped around my waist, Shannon led me back to the common room. “Johnny is going to replace him.”
“I should have gone with him,” I replied, numb. “It’s my fault.”
“No, Claire, it’s not. None of this is your fault, I promise.” She stopped in front of the door and turned to look at me. “And you’re in no condition to go running around town looking for him. Joey’s not drinking. He’ll drive us back to your house and we’ll be there when Johnny brings him home. Because he will replace him, Shan. He won’t stop until he does.”
“I can’t deal with Lizzie right now, Shan,” I admitted, gesturing at the closed door. “I can’t.” Sniffling, I batted a tear off my cheek. “Because if she says another word about Gerard, I think I might snap.”
“Then wait out here, okay,” Shannon replied. “I’ll go inside and get my brother.”
“Okay,” I agreed with a hiccup, not trusting myself to be anywhere near our other friend in this moment.
When Shannon opened the door a moment later, and tried to slip inconspicuously inside, Lizzie’s voice boomed through the air. “I don’t care what she says. He’s clearly after getting into her head and twisting everything around,” she was screaming. “She’s making all of this up to cover for him.”
That was it.
That was all I could take.
Losing every ounce of self-control left inside of my body, I slammed my palm against the semi-closed door and pushed it back open.
“Making it up?” My voice was deathly cold as I stood in the doorway, eyes trained on the willowy blonde. “Making it up?”
“Why would you do that?” Lizzie cried, turning to face me. “Why would you lie about my sister like that?”
“I didn’t lie,” I heard myself respond, knowing that the only thing I had left to lose had already bolted. “And I didn’t make anything up.” Narrowing my eyes, I gritted out the words, “Mark didn’t rape your sister.”
“Yes, he did! I read the words on her suicide note,” she screamed, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I know, Claire!” Strangling out a heaving breath, she sobbed, “I know what he did to her!”
“You don’t know anything!” I shouted back, losing my cool. “You don’t have a fucking clue about what actually happened, Lizzie.”
“And you do?”
“Yes,” I screamed back at her. “Your sister is not the victim in this story. She was never Mark’s victim. She was his fucking accomplice!”
You could have heard a pin drop.
Everyone’s eyes landed on me.
“What are you saying, Claire?” Hugh demanded, making a beeline for me. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It wasn’t Caoimhe, Hugh,” I cried, when my brother’s hands clamped down on my shoulders, “it was Gerard.”
“What?” My brother staggered backwards, clutching his chest. “What do you mean it was Gibs?”
“There’s a note from Caoimhe,” I tried to explain, feeling my entire frame rack with tremors. “Gerard kept it all along.” Shuddering, I squeezed out, “It explains everything.”
“How dare you!” Lizzie choked out, eyes full of horror and betrayal. “There’s no other letter.”
“How dare you,” I challenged right back at her. “How fucking dare you treat him like you have all these years.” I couldn’t stop my tears from falling or my voice from rising. “And yes there is another letter, the real fucking letter, and I suggest that you read it, Liz. And then, once you have, you might want to start directing your anger at the right people.” Narrowing my eyes, I spat, “Because Gerard Gibson was never your target!”
“No, no, no, I know the truth,” she desperately refuted my claims, tears streaming down her cheeks, looking more vulnerable than I’d seen her look since her sister’s funeral.
She looked so broken, so utterly lost, that for a moment I had the strongest urge to fold her into my arms and make her feel better.
But I couldn’t do it.
Not this time.
I couldn’t bow to her anger.
Her pain belonged to her. Passing it around to the rest of us wasn’t fair.
She wasn’t the same little girl I’d grown up with, and while my heart truly broke for all the heartache she had endured, I couldn’t live my life with this level of toxicity in it.
“I know what really happened,” she continued to cry.
“You weren’t there,” I replied, striving for calmness when I felt anything but. “You don’t know the whole story. You never did. None of us knew.” Straightening my spine, I forced myself to add, “But we do now.”
“He’s trying to change the narrative.”
“Of what?”
“Of my sister’s death!”
“No, he’s not,” I shouted back. “Gerard has never done anything other than try to survive the horrendous hand of cards life dealt him.”
“I don’t believe you,” she cried, roughly pushing Patrick away when he tried to hug her. “God, I fucking hate you so much right now, Claire!”
“Fine,” I snapped back. “Don’t believe me. Label me as a liar. If hating me fills a hole in your heart, then you go right ahead and hate me, but don’t expect me to wait around and take your shit anymore. Because I’m done with it all. Including you.”
“Claire.” Shannon hurried to intervene. “You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I’ve never meant anything more, Shannon,” I ground out. “I can’t do this with her anymore. I won’t.”
“I’m not doing this with you,” Lizzie sobbed.
“Well, I am absolutely doing this with you,” I spat back. “Because I am done holding my tongue, and I will never allow you to use him as your personal punching bag ever again.”
“You are such a bitch.”
“And you are such a bully,” I roared back. “You know, Gerard took your bullshit for years.” Furious, I shook my head. “He knew the truth, and let you treat him like that. Let you try to meddle and twist and turn his friends against him.” I narrowed my eyes in disgust. “That was you, Lizzie. You did that to him, but it stops now. Do you hear me? Go and get help. Sort your head out because I’m done walking this road with you. I’m stepping off!”
“Guys, please,” Shannon offered up. “Please don’t fight.”
“I’m not fighting, Shannon,” I stated. “I’m just done.”
“We can fix this, guys,” Shannon tried to plead. “Come on. After everything we’ve been through. We can get through this together.”
“I can’t,” Lizzie hiccupped a sob. “Not after tonight.”
Neither could I. “Don’t ever speak to me again, Lizzie Young,” I warned, and then, truly disappointed in myself, I walked away from one of my oldest friends in the world for the sake of another.
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