Summer: Day 40 

Zach's POV:

The walls are plain and white and sad.

The table I sit at is one they use for interrogations, and the chair I sit in is a metal piece of shit.

And when the officer comes in with a handcuffed Shawn Lemay, my gaze instantly hardens. How much I hate this old bastard, maybe and probably even worse than my own father. Thinking about all the things he's done to Mackenzie makes me sick, internally and externally disgusted. The trauma he's given her, the nasty comments he's probably made. I want him dead, but I'd rather be free of manslaughter than end up in a place like this.

"Montgomery," Shawn greets me, nodding his head with a small smirk. "Glad you could join me."

"I believe you're the one joining me," I point out, unamused. "I was here first, so therefore you're joining me."

He snarls and slumps in the chair across from me. "Well you're one asshole."

"As are you," I grumble, glaring at him. I want to cut right to the chase. "Listen, I want you to tell me exactly what you said to Mackenzie when she came to visit you."

"The bitter truth," he says nonchalantly, not giving in.

"That what? You're a liar and an absolute bitch to her?" I ask, leaning forward in my seat a little. "That you abused her for your personal happiness? That you're that twisted and that fucked up? That you're... that unhappy with yourself?"

He clenches his jaw. "At least I wasn't the one with ulterior motives."

I hit my fist on the table, my eyes blazing. He jumps a little and stares at me. "I didn't even fucking know about this arranged marriage shit that you pulled! I am not the one to blame here."

"But we all know you don't really care about Mackenzie, nobody could." He looks me dead in the eyes as he says, "She's useless, worthless."

"I think you're describing yourself, Shawn." I shake my head, chuckling to myself. "I don't know who did what to you in order to make you so damn cold, but you are one fucked up bastard."

He narrows his eyes, his elbows on the table. "You really wanna know what I told your pathetic girlfriend?"

"Enlighten me," I challenge, ready to snap at him whenever he decides to cross the line.

Shawn sinks back into his chair with a proud and disgusting grin on his face, the yellowness of his teeth grossly showing. "I told her who you Montgomery people really are; just a bunch of rich, selfish, good looking bimbos who want to mess everyone's life up. Power is the most important thing to you, but without it, you're nothing."

"So you think I'm good looking?" I smirk, chuckling. "What's your favorite feature of mine? Is it my hair, or my eyes—"

"You're such a boy."

"I was being sarcastic, dumbass. Whatever you told Mackenzie was enough for her to run for the hills—so what did you tell her."

He shrugs. "I said some things about you using her. About the arrangement, how you were probably just trying to butter her up before you turned her life into a living hell—"

"I believe you've already succeeded in doing that, Shawn." I purse my lips together in a tight line before leaning over the table in a threatening way. "I know I'm not the best guy out there. I don't buy her roses or shower her in expensive perfume, but at least I never laid my hands on her. I've seen her scars and the bruises that you've left behind, and you know what? She's fucking beautiful to me. Nothing will ever change how I feel about her. Not you, not my dad, and definitely not a stupid fucking arrangement that would allow me to marry the love of my life. So I guess you lose in the end because whatever plan you had to throw our lives down the drain will never work."

"You're mistaken," he replies. "Your love for her is your weakness."

"If you say love is weak, I guess you've never loved."

"You're right, I haven't loved anyone but myself," he returns, nodding his head. "And I'm proud of myself for that. That is power, being numb is powerful in more ways than you know."

I give him a smile, clicking my teeth. "And look at where that got you," I say before pushing myself up and out of my chair. "Go rot in hell with my dad, Shawn."

But before I can leave, he says in a criticizing voice, "You and Mackenzie are so similar."

I turn on my heels fast, facing him again. "How would you know?"

"Because you both have too much faith in the other person."

"You can think that all you want, but the only difference is that you would never know why," I deadpan, walking out of the room.

Mackenzie. Mackenzie. Mackenzie.

Oh, what the hell have I done?

******

Mack's POV:

Everyday I miss him more and more. He had been such a constant in my life this summer, and it's weird to think I haven't seen him in seven days. I miss him.

Sulking around didn't look good on me, but it's the only outfit I had left. I'd worn all the clothes Zachariah brought over for himself whenever he stayed, and I didn't want to step foot in my own clothing. So sulking it was.

I slump in the chair to my desk and sigh. Everything is so outrageously boring.

Then, my eyes drift over to the small notebook Kylar had given back to me for my birthday. My journal. My poetry book.

With quivering hands, I reach over to pick it up. I knew what was inside of it, so why would Kylar give it back knowing what was in here too?

I open the front cover, taking a deep breath.

Poem #1: that guy.

HE was a tall boy,
with model hair
I could never get him out of my mind

HE was my yellow,
but ended up kryptonite

I tried to fight it,
and ended up hypnotized

MY friends they warned me,
he will always be that guy.

that guy.

******

Poem #2: when.

when it's cold outside,
I miss the way your skin felt on mine.
miss that look in your eyes,
the one that got me every time.

grab the remote and hit rewind,
back to that night;
in the backseat of your car
where you had me from the start.
never knew we'd get this far,
because you had me falling hard.

when it's dark outside,
and you go park under that light,
does my name cross your mind?
wish I could call you mine.

every car the color white,
has my heart beating inside.
because I don't know if it's you.
if it was, what would I do?
would you wanna see me too?
or is this a game I'm gonna lose?

******

I wipe the tears that have now started falling. That last poem hit a little too deep. I loved him then and I'll love him forever; over and over again if that meant I could have him with me right now.

Poem #3: death of me.

they said he was the death of me.
brown hair, blue eyes, almost six-foot-three.
we were so different but I couldn't help it.
it's hard to let some things go.

my heart opened and he fell right through;
right through the cracks.

I'm tired of wishing in the fountain,
waiting for good things to happen.
I'm done wasting pennies on you.
do you understand that it was always you?

they said I fell "way too fast,"
that I cannot go back to the past.
he would still be here if he was the one.
some things in life just don't last.

******

I've read enough. I don't need to hear anything else.

This is why Kylar gave my journal back to me; to choose, to pick Zachariah.

I grab my phone and wipe the tears out of my eyes so I can find his contact. I just need to make things right, I love him and he could love me. Right?

Everything everyone's been saying isn't true. My Zachariah wouldn't do that. Would he?

My dad was just trying to get under my skin. Right?

And Mr. Montgomery wouldn't have told me to go to my dad unless it was to trap me. Would he?

Crap. Crap. Crap.

I messed up.

And I'm just now realizing this?

I bang my head on the table. Stupid Mackenzie.

I press his contact with trembling fingers, anxious and nervous as to what I'm gonna say. Like, what could I do to make up for the fact that I wouldn't let him speak or explain? Does he even want to talk to me now?

I grip my scalp in agony as the phone rings.

"I'm sorry, the person you are trying to reach is not available right now. Please leave a message after the tone. Beep."

I let out a deep exhale, gulping. "Zachariah," I whisper. "Zach... Zach. I—I miss you."

My leg taps ferociously against the ground as I bite my nails.

"Please come back to me, I'm sorry."

And not being able to handle it any longer, I end the call and throw my phone across the room. Dammit, that was one half-ass apology.

I hate myself.

Author's Note:

that was a crappy chapter, but oh well.

*all the poetry was written by me*

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