Twisted Hate: An Enemies with Benefits Romance

part of me wanted to give in, sink beneath the surface, and never come back
up. 
Michael. Alex. Jules. 
Three of the people I trusted most all stabbed me in the back. Michael and
Alex’s betrayals hurt, but Jules...she knew how fucked up I was from what
happened with the others.
Intellectually, I understood her reasoning for not telling me earlier.
Emotionally, I couldn’t stop the hurt from poisoning every memory of us.
Careful, Red. Keep saying things like that, and I might never let you go.
You’re one of the few people I trust...even when we couldn’t stand each
other, I could always count on you to be honest with me.
Heat blazed across my cheeks.
I was a fucking idiot. 
Jules pushed herself off the ground and faced me. Giant blotches of red
bloomed across her face and neck. She’d stopped crying, but her breaths
sounded abnormally loud and shallow in the silence.
“It seems only fitting for us to end things with a goodbye fuck.” A cruel
smile slashed across my mouth. The unyielding pressure had crawled up my
throat, and it took twice as much effort to get my words out. “At least you got
an orgasm out of it, so don’t say I never gave you anything. I’ll miss that
tight pussy of yours though. No one takes my cock better than you do. It’s
your best quality.”
Vicious hurt slashed across her face and speared me in the chest like a hot

---

poker.
The only person I hated more than her in that moment was myself.
“What I did was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Her small voice contained the
barest hint of her usual fire. “But you’re being cruel.”
“Am I?” I mocked. “Well, I’m fucking sorry. As you can see, being a
nice guy hasn’t served me all that well in the past.” My eyes burned. 
Looking at her hurt. Hearing her hurt. Everything hurt. 
“You could’ve fucking told me, Jules. Did you really think so little of me
that you thought I’d judge you for things you were manipulated into doing?
That I wouldn’t have been on your side and took that fucker down with you?
I understand why you didn’t tell me the truth at Hyacinth, but after Ohio…”
My jaw clenched. “That’s what fucking hurts the most. That I considered you
worthy of trust but you didn’t think the same of me.”
Jules’s chin wobbled. She pressed a fist to her mouth, her eyes glistening
in the dim light.
“If you’d asked for the painting, I would’ve given it to you.” My voice
cracked. “I would’ve given you anything you wanted.” 
A sharp sob bled through her fist, followed by another, and another, until
her gasping breaths soaked every molecule of air.
I watched, unmoving, as she hyperventilated, but my muscles strained
with the effort to hold still. 
I loathed the part of me that still wanted to comfort her. It was the part
with no self-preservation, that needed her so much it would willingly hand
her the knife to stab me in the chest just so she could be the last thing I saw
before I died.
She was right. I was a masochist.
“Get out.” 
Jules flinched at my quiet command. “Josh, please. I swear I didn’t—” 
“Get. Out.”
“I lo—”
“Don’t you dare say it.” My pulse spiked with another burst of
adrenaline. Breathe. Just fucking breathe. “I said, get out, Jules. Get the fuck
out!”
She finally moved, her soft sobs growing fainter as she stumbled toward
the door. It closed behind her, and then…silence.
The tension holding me upright collapsed.
I doubled over, hands on my knees, silent shudders wracking my body.

---

The pressure inside me strangled every vital organ, but no matter how much
it built and built, it refused to explode. It just sat there, suffocating me from
the inside out.
Jules was gone, but I still felt her. She was everywhere—in every inch of
the room, every fragment of my thoughts, every beat of my heart. 
The visceral urge to destroy everything that reminded me of her propelled
me off the couch and into my room. I rifled through my desk drawer for the