Estranged • h.s.

08

The difference between knowing you're good and bad is like a school test you just can't pass, regardless of how much you study for it. You try exceptionally hard to prepare, doing deeds you've deemed good. You dedicate extra time to trying to make things right, especially when you've caused harm or hurt. You think that if you can just try a little bit harder, forgiveness will follow and you'll know for certain that you're good. 

But that's bullshit. 

Mostly because the chance to make things right rarely ever comes. And what do we truly do with that chance when it is given? 

I stood there, wordless and pathetic. I didn't do anything. At that moment, all that mattered was that I was seeing her. She was right in front of me. Words didn't seem important. What was important was that she was alive, glowing, and confident. Everything I wished for her. Who am I to steal that moment? 

"Bet you thought you could make new friends, hm? People who didn't already know exactly what kind of man you are?" 

Liam's tone, and his words, catch me off guard. We haven't spoken for the last few minutes. Not since Cecily and the other girl took the stage. I've sat here starstruck, and this fucker has the audacity to pretend he knows me. 

"Excuse me?" 

He chuckles, looking at me with an arrogance I'd like to beat out of him. 

"You came here with a past that smacked you in the face so hard, I mean, it honestly made my day. It gave me a good laugh, man. And then you thought you could come in here and pretend you aren't a pining loser." 

I square my chest with him, pushing him into the wall with my face in his quicker than he expected. His back slams into the wall before he tries to shove at me. 

"What the fuck did you say?" I ask, looking down at him. 

He shoves me, and I stumble back a single step before I decide I don't give a shit. My fist connects with his face, sending him hunching over to his right. I grab him by the collar of his jacket, slamming him into the wall. 

"Watch your fucking mouth. You don't know me, and you sure as hell don't know my past." 

"Hey, hey!" Other guards come, pulling me off of him and separating the two of us. I'm calm in their hold, knowing the difference between people who have and haven't pissed me off. I smile, looking at his bloodied nose. 

"You, go to the other hallway. Down that way to the right. Neither one of you even fucking looks at one another tonight." 

I huff, pulling myself out of their hold before walking off. I situate my jacket, making sure my earpiece is still secure as I head down the hallway. I pass the dressing room, the ominous steel door, and one random guard at the corner looking at me like I'm seconds away from hitting him too. 

Annoyed, I make my way down the new hallway. I recognize the Saints and Sinners hallway, noting the last room that I was just in last night. Is she still on stage? Is she in her room with someone? 

I station myself at the end of the hallway, the corner of it leading right to the room she would be in if she's doing a private dance for someone. Her name is neatly printed on the door. 

I lean against the wall deciding I'll stay here all night if I need to. Maybe she'll go in or come out soon. Maybe she'll talk to me. Maybe I'll have the fucking strength to talk to her. 

I flex my hand, forming a fist and relaxing it a few times to shake away the slight ping of pain. I don't regret punching the son of a bitch. I regret only doing it once. Especially after seeing how close he and Cecily are. I may be willing to let her lead this little dramatic tango we're doing, but I never said I wouldn't continue to kill any sorry son of a bitch who touched her.