Sweet Hatred
Chapter 193: Heartless

Chapter 193: Heartless

Olivia hugged herself, eyes flickering with guilt. "A few weeks. After... after mom. I—I just... I wanted to hear him out."

My laugh was sharp and bitter. "Wanted to hear him out? While we were still mourning her. You thought, ’Hm, maybe now’s a great time to go visit the man who made her life a living hell.’ Is that it? Say something!"

"I didn’t tell you because I knew how you’d react!" she said, her voice rising in defense. "I knew you wouldn’t understand—"

"Damn right I wouldn’t!" I barked, tears burning behind my eyes. "Are you seriously telling me you’ve been playing happy daughter while I was lying awake every night thinking about every fucking bruise he gave her? Every time she told us to be quiet because he’d be mad? Or how I wanted to fucking kill him before he finally walked out?"

Olivia didn’t respond. She just stood there.

Silent. Hesitating.

I felt the crack again. This time, deeper.

I wanted to scream, to break something, anything.

I stepped closer, chest heaving. "Have you forgiven him?"

Her lips parted. Closed. Then opened again.

"I don’t know," she whispered.

I froze.

I just... stared at her.

Like she was someone I didn’t know. Like maybe she’d been someone else this whole time and I was only now seeing her clearly.

"You’ve forgotten," I said, shaking my head in disbelief. "You’ve forgotten everything."

"No," she said, her voice shaking. "I remember. Every night. Every scream. I just... I guess I wanted to believe people could change."

"Do you think he thought about changing when he was dragging mom by her hair across the floor?"

Her face crumpled at that.

And I hated that I said it. But not enough to take it back.

"Am I the only one who remembers what a fucking monster he was?" My voice cracked. "Am I the only one still bleeding from it?"

She didn’t answer.

And that silence felt louder than any scream.

"Just calm down," Olivia said, holding her hands out like she could steady the fire inside me. "Just... give him a chance before it’s too late."

My blood boiled.

"I don’t care if it’s too late," I spat. "He could drop dead right now and I still wouldn’t give a damn."

Her mouth tightened. "That’s a really selfish thing to say."

I blinked.

And then I laughed. I fucking laughed, but it didn’t sound right. It sounded like it was cracking at the edges. "Selfish? Are you seriously calling me selfish right now?"

"I’m saying you’re not the only one who was hurt. I mean... what was the point of coming if you aren’t going to try and understand him."

I could feel something snap. Loud. Sudden. Ugly.

"Oh, fuck off, Olivia," I hissed. "You should be the last person on earth to call anyone selfish. You want to talk about hurt? About choices?"

She flinched. I didn’t stop.

"Instead of being better, you decided to throw your life, your goddamn degree away for that deadbeat husband of yours, rotting on my couch, in my apartment, which, I pay for, while the both of you pretend you’re raising two kids you can’t even afford without me stepping in every goddamn time."

Her eyes widened. My mouth kept going. It wouldn’t stop.

"You let that coward Michael convince you he’s someone worth staying with, every lie, every second chance, every empty promise, and now you’re letting him, our father, the man who ruined everything, do the same fucking thing to you. You’re falling for it like a damn braindead fool, again and again. I don’t even understand how we share the same blood when you’re this stupid?"

I hated the sound of my voice. I hated every word.

But I couldn’t shut up.

Not when I was this raw. Not when everything was finally breaking loose.

Her face twisted, red with fury and tears welling fast.

"You’re a cruel bitch," Olivia snapped, voice shaking as she took a step closer, "who thinks she’s God just because we’re at your mercy all the time."

Her words hit like a slap. My stomach twisted, but I said nothing.

"You think your pain makes you better than us," she went on. "But you’re not. You’re just bitter and cold and you can’t stand that we’ve managed to survive without falling apart completely. My failure makes you feel good about your weakness."

I scoffed, arms crossed, nails digging into my skin. "You call this surviving? Is that what you call it when your husband’s been ’getting back on his feet’ for how many years now? Three? Four? He’s practically married to the couch—what’s he working on, his PhD in being a fucking leech?"

Her lip trembled.

And then she burst.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, quick and messy. "You’re horrible, Aria. You’re a horrible, heartless human being."

And just like that... everything stopped.

Like the moment you realize the plate you threw didn’t just break, it shattered.

Fuck.

No.

I stared at her.

"You think this makes me happy? Being a burden to you? You don’t think I try to help in my own way?"

Her face was crumpled, hands shaking, tears running down in angry streams, and all I could think about was how much I hated myself.

Because I didn’t want to see her cry.

I never did.

She was supposed to be the strong one. The soft one. The part of me I could never be.

And now I was the one breaking her.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Just silence. Just guilt. Just this burning, aching shame that wrapped itself around my throat like a noose.

"Olivia..." I whispered, finally.

But she turned away, wiping her face with the back of her trembling hand, shoulders rising and falling with broken sobs.

And I hated everything about what I’d become in that moment.

I reached for Olivia’s wrist without thinking, just a desperate twitch, a silent plea, but she pulled herself free before I could even feel her skin.

"You know what? You’re right," she whispered, wiping at her face, her breath jagged with emotion. "You’re always right Aria. You’re the hardworking one and the rest of us are just dead-weight pulling you down from achieving your fantastic life. I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about that anymore."

What?

And just like that, she turned her back on me. She walked inside the shelter, disappearing past the doorway like she hadn’t just left me bleeding in the open air. No second glance. No invitation to follow. Nothing.

The chill hit me seconds later. Or maybe it was the shame, sinking into my bones like sleet. I stood there for too long, blinking up at the sky, trying to make the spinning stop. But it didn’t. Not this time.

Everything I’d buried, my grief, my rage, my guilt, was leaking out through the cracks again. Like I was breaking open, one raw inch at a time.

I didn’t want to go home.

I didn’t want to sit in the apartment I paid for, haunted by everything I just said.

So I called a cab.

And I told it to take me to the only place I knew how to disappear.

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