Home > Like You Hate Me

Like You Hate Me
Author: Bethany Winters








I shouldn’t be here.

I made a promise to the only friend I’ve ever had, a promise that’s getting harder and harder to keep. I’ve thought about breaking it hundreds of times—at least once a day since the day she left me—but I’ve never actually had the balls to go through with it.

Tonight, though…it feels different. I feel different. I’m in too deep this time and I just want it to stop. No more pain. No more guilt. No more misery.

With any luck, it’ll just feel like…nothing. Blackness. The end.

Clutching the blindfold I’ve kept on me for almost two years, I’m straddling my motorbike on the edge of the bend in the road my brother died on, facing the steep cliff overlooking the forest below.

Ride a motorcycle.

Jump off a cliff.

“That’s two birds with one stone right here, babe.” I laugh through the pain in my chest. Then, I lean over to get a better look. “I’m gonna do it.”

But I’m not finished yet.

And this probably isn’t what she meant when she wrote that list.

She didn’t want to die. She promised, just like I did.

Lightning strikes above me, and I wrap my arms around myself. There’s a storm coming. The rain hasn’t started yet, but it’s so windy and cold, I can barely feel my hands as I reach into my hoodie pocket. The bottle of whiskey I stole from my dad’s office tonight is long gone, so I swallow a couple pills instead, then light the joint I rolled earlier and take a hit.

My filthy, unwashed hair blows into my eyes, blocking my vision, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to see anything. I just need to drive. Just a few more meters.

Come on, you pussy.

Come on, come on, come on…

My phone buzzes between the handlebars, and I almost ignore it this time.


I squint at the text message on the screen, the paralyzing fear coiling around my lungs and squeezing as I read the words. And then I look at the pictures…

I think I’m gonna puke.

I don’t stop to think before I’ve got the phone pressed to my ear. He takes forever to answer, but when he does, he sounds wide awake and highly amused, the sounds of the party he’s at echoing in the background. “What do you want?” he teases.

“I need your help.”

“Again?” I think he laughs, but I can barely hear him over the ringing in my ears. “You can’t be serious.”

“Please,” I rasp, flinching at the next flash of lightning in the sky. “He—It’s Nate.”

He pauses, then asks, “Where are you right now?”

I shake my heavy head, feeling dizzy as I look around at my surroundings. “I…”

“Never mind. Fuckin’ drama queen. I’ll be there soon.”

After he hangs up, I pocket the phone and wait, but I don’t hold my breath. Soon could mean five minutes or five hours. He won’t rush because he doesn’t really give a shit about me. I don’t blame him. I don’t give a shit about me either.

The rain starts, pours, then pours some more. I’m soaked from head to toe within seconds. I don’t know how much more time passes while I smoke my joint, shielding it inside my hoodie to try to keep it dry. Once it’s gone, I toss the roach and tip my head back, taking one last look at the dark sky before I pull the blindfold into place.

Another text comes through, and I squeeze my eyes shut behind the fabric. Lifting it up an inch, I quickly delete all the messages he’s sent me and block his number. My phone will probably break when it hits the bottom, but I can’t risk anyone finding it down there and seeing what’s on it.

I can't risk Nate finding out what I’ve done.

Shoving the blindfold back over my eyes, I hold on to the handlebars and creep a little closer toward the edge. “Sorry, Katy,” I whisper.

But then I hesitate, swallowing as I flex my fingers.

Just twist it, Xavi.

Just fucking do it already.

Just fucking—










I’m at the hospital, high, stumbling through the never-ending halls as I make my way to the waiting room on the third floor. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me, and I can barely see where I’m going, but I don’t stop to catch my breath. It won’t work anyway. I won’t breathe right again until I know Katy’s okay.

Please be okay.

When I finally get to where I need to be, I stop just inside the room, holding onto the vending machine on my left to keep myself steady. There are a lot of people in here, low voices and soft cries coming from…I don’t know where. My eyes refuse to focus on anyone but him. Like magnets, they won’t let him go. He’s sitting by himself in the middle of the room, elbows resting on his knees as he runs his thumb over the black ring he’s holding—my ring. It’s chunky and black with the number 13 written on the face. I let Katy borrow it a few weeks ago when she was having a bad day. The doctors must have taken it off her finger when they brought her in here and given it to him. That’s the only reason he has it. That has to be the reason. Because if he was the one who took it from her…If he was the one who found her like that…

Like he senses my presence here, he lifts his head to look at me.


He looks furious, his usually light brown eyes now red and bloodshot, his short, dark hair sticking up at the top as if he’s been yanking on it repeatedly. His knuckles look busted too, like he’s punched a few walls. I think he’s been crying, but when he looks at me, there are no tears left. There’s only hate and rage.

“Nate,” I say and take a slow, cautious step closer to him. “What happened?”

He just stares up at me, which is weird because it’s usually me looking up at him. He’s only nineteen, two years older than me and his little sister, but he’s a tall motherfucker with a huge body built for basketball. He and I both know he could snap my skinny ass in half if he wanted to.

“Who called you?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“My dad,” I whisper. “He’s on his way.”

He nods slowly, his hands shaking slightly as he continues to play with the ring. “Get out.”

I swallow and look over at his parents for the first time. His mom is sobbing into her hands in the corner, his dad on the chair next to her, gently rubbing his wife’s back as he stares off into space.

“Nate…” I try again. “Please, just tell me wh—”

He’s up and coming for me before I can finish, pulling on my jacket and then slamming me back into the vending machine, causing a few people to look this way. I wince and wrap my hands around his, holding my breath as he moves in closer, erasing the small amount of distance between us.

“Nathaniel, let him go,” his mother says quietly, her voice raw from crying. “It’s not his fault.”

“Fuck that. He’s fucking high right now, Mom,” he growls, still looking at me, lowering his voice so she can’t hear the next part. “You wanna know what happened, party boy?” he taunts, cruel and menacing. “You killed her. My sister’s dead because of you.”

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