“What? Haven’t you finished insulting me yet?” he snapped.
“It’s always the same with you. Why can’t you be more like your brother?”
“Ben isn’t my damn brother. And I don’t want to be like him. I am who I am, whether you like it or not.”
“And what exactly are you? A murderer? Because those stupid street fights are turning you into one. The last boy you fought called us. Want to know what he said? You almost killed him.”
“You said it yourself. Almost. He’s still breathing, isn’t he?”
Easton’s mother let out a weary sigh.
“You’re just like—”
“Don’t you dare say his name. I’m nothing like that monster.”
“No, you’re not. But every day, you look a little more like him.”
“Go to hell.”
He started the motorcycle and sped away.
The cold night breeze brushed against my skin, making me shi
