Vengeance (Burning Beliefs #2)

Chapter Eighteen *edited*

SERENA'S POV

The sun has risen a quarter of the way through the sky. The soft pallette of the clouds outlines a pale, baby blue. The sun's light is pastel yellow, creamy and insipid. My eyes feel dry and scratchy, my feet are tired and aching, and my stomach is mumbling soft, hungry whimpers. But somehow I still clench my fists and carry on. I want to forgive him, and kissing him felt every kind of right, but I can't. I understand that I was dead, and that they were both grieving, and that they were connected through me, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. I just don't know if I can trust him again. And even if I did, it wouldn't be the same as before.

"Serena, stop," Zach commands.

Against everything screaming inside me, I pause. I tap my foot impatiently.

"You need to eat," he says breathlessly, catching up to me. "And drink."

"Yeah, sounds like a wonderful idea, why don't we just head on over to that Tim Horton's over there for a nice cup of coffee?" I want to sound sarcastic, but my voice comes out bitterly empty.

Zach sighs. "Please, Rena. I... have something to drink."

I raise an eyebrow at him. He reaches, almost hesitantly, into his back pocket, and pulls out a whiskey flask.

"Whiskey?" I shout. "Really, Zach, really?"

"I'm not an alcoholic," he inhales a sharp breath. "At least not anymore. It's all we have, so just take it."

I set my jaw. He's a lunatic. I jerk the container into my hands, quickly screw off the cap, and take a quick sip. The sour liquid burns my tongue and leaves a trail of fire down my throat, but it seems to satisfy my stomach.

"Feeling better?" he asks.

I practically shove the flask back to him. I don't want to get caught up in that.

"A little," I say. "Thanks."

"No problem."

We stand there for a few seconds. The air is fifty shades of awkward, and I know he wants to say something about the night before, but I don't let him. I can't handle it. He'll draw me in with his stupid voice, and his stupid apologies, and his stupid, Goddamn whiskey flask.

I walk off in the other direction, the same kind of frustrated-angry I was before.

He runs after me.

"Do you like Disney movies?" he asks.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Do you like Disney movies?" he repeats.

I roll my eyes. "Of course I do. I'm not soulless."

"Okay, well, think of it this way," he says. "I love you."

This stops me dead in my tracks.

"And I'd do anything to take you back." he continues. "But I had seven years without you. It was the most pain I've ever felt. It was like every scar I'd ever gotten was being re-sketched into my body all at once. I mean, there are some days I can't even remember because they're overflowing with that depression. Some of them are blacked out by beer, or splattered over with terrible music I tried to use to calm myself down, and I --" he stops short. "What I'm trying to say, Serena, is that you should give me another chance. Everybody deserves another chance, right?"

"Not you, and not my sister."

"Oh, come on, Rena!" he pauses for a moment, thinking, calculating. I want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. "We're like Simba and Nala!"