Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 266

Olivia’s POV - Twenty years ago

I knew that voice.

"Olivia, please! I need to talk to you!"

Jenny looked at me, confused. "Hey, isn’t that the fat kid from..."

"I don’t know him," I said coldly, keeping my eyes forward, pumping my legs to swing higher.

"But he’s calling your name," Lisa pointed out.

"I don’t know him," I repeated, louder this time. Making sure Maxwell could hear.

"Olivia!" His voice was closer now. "Please, I just want to explain..."

"Who is that?" Jenny asked, squinting at Maxwell as he approached the playground.

I stopped swinging and turned to look at him. Really look at him.

He looked terrible. His eyes were red and swollen like he’d been crying. His clothes were rumpled. He was breathing hard from the effort of crossing the playground. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Good.

I hoped he’d cried every day since what he’d done to my family.

"That’s just some fat boy," I said loudly, making sure every word carried across the playground. "Some coward whose life I saved once because he was too weak to stand up for himself."

Maxwell flinched like I’d slapped him.

"But... but I thought you were friends?" Lisa looked between us, confused.

"Friends?" I laughed, and even I could hear how cruel it sounded. "With him? Please. I felt sorry for him once. That’s all. But I learned my lesson. Some people aren’t worth saving."

"Olivia..." Maxwell’s voice cracked. "Please. Just let me explain what happened. My father, he..."

"I don’t care," I cut him off, my voice ice-cold. "I don’t care about your excuses. You had one chance to tell the truth and you didn’t. You’re a coward. And I don’t talk to cowards."

I turned back to my friends, deliberately putting my back to him.

"Come on, Jenny. Let’s go play on the monkey bars."

As we walked away, I heard Maxwell behind me, his voice small and broken: "I’m sorry..."

I didn’t turn around.

But he didn’t give up.

Over the next week, he kept appearing. At the playground. Near the corner store. On the street by my house.

Every time, I ignored him. Or worse.

"Go away, fatty!"

"Nobody wants you here!"

"Why don’t you go cry to your rich daddy!"

My words got meaner each time because I wanted them to hurt. Wanted him to feel even a fraction of the pain my family felt.

My friends thought it was hilarious, this fat rich kid following me around while I insulted him. They started joining in, making pig noises whenever they saw him, throwing things in his direction.

I told myself I didn’t care.

I told myself he deserved it.

But sometimes, late at night, I’d remember the way he’d looked at me that first day. Like I was an angel. Like I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

And I’d remember my promise to protect him.

Then I’d remember Kennedy sleeping in a jail cell, and Dad crying over losing his father’s beach house, and that weak, pathetic look on Maxwell’s face when he’d stood silent while my brother was dragged away.

And my anger would come roaring back, hot and justified.

It happened on a Thursday.

I was walking home alone from the playground - my friends had gone a different direction - when I heard footsteps running up behind me.

"Olivia! Wait!"

Not again.

I walked faster, but Maxwell caught up, his breathing labored.

"Olivia, please. Please, just listen to me for one minute. Just one minute, and if you still hate me after that, I’ll never bother you again. I promise."

"I already hate you," I said without slowing down. "And I don’t want to hear your excuses."

"They’re not excuses!" His voice rose, desperate and frustrated. "If you’d just let me explain..."

"There’s nothing to explain!" I spun to face him, and he nearly crashed into me. "You stood there and said NOTHING while they took my brother away! You let them lie about Kennedy! You let your father hit him! You’re a coward and a liar and I HATE YOU!"

"I know!" Maxwell’s shout matched mine. "I know I’m a coward! I know what I did was wrong! But you don’t understand what it’s like..."

"I don’t CARE what it’s like!" I screamed. "My brother went to JAIL because of you! My dad lost the beach house his father left him because of you! My family is falling apart because I made the mistake of helping you! I WISH I’D NEVER MET YOU!"

Maxwell’s face crumpled, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I wanted to speak up, I did, but my father..."

"Your father WHAT?" I cut him off. "Your father was going to hurt you? Beat you up? Well, guess what, Maxwell? Those bullies were ACTUALLY beating you up and you couldn’t stand up to them either! You can’t stand up to anyone! You’re weak and pathetic and..."

"I KNOW!" Maxwell grabbed my arm to stop me from walking away. "I know all of that! But I’m trying to make it right! I’m trying to..."

"LET GO OF ME!" I yanked my arm free and shoved him hard in the chest.

He stumbled backward but didn’t fall.

"You’re disgusting!" I shouted. "You’re a fat, worthless pig just like those bullies said! And you know what? They were right! You ARE worthless! You’re nothing! NOTHING!"

"Olivia, please..." He reached for me again.

That’s when I pulled out my pepper spray.

"I said LET GO!"

I didn’t even think about it. Just pointed and sprayed.

Maxwell screamed, his hands flying to his face as he stumbled backward.

"MY EYES! IT BURNS!"

And I ran.

Ran as fast as my legs could carry me, not looking back, my heart pounding in my chest.

I didn’t see the car.

Didn’t hear it until the screech of brakes and the shout of warning and...

Pain.

Blinding, terrible pain.

Then darkness.

Then nothing.

**The present**

My eyes flew open and I gasped, my hands clutching at my chest as I bolted upright in a hospital bed.

The memories crashed over me like a tidal wave - not fuzzy recollections or vague impressions, but vivid, crystal-clear memories of everything that had happened twenty years ago.

Kennedy taking the fall for saving Maxwell.

Dad losing his beach house.

Maxwell’s cowardly silence.

My anger. My hatred.

The pepper spray.

The car.

"No," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "No, no, no..."

I remembered it all now.

Every cruel word I’d said to Maxwell. Every time I’d called him worthless, pathetic, a coward.

I’d been eight years old and filled with so much rage at the injustice of what had happened to my family that I’d taken it all out on him.

And he’d kept coming back. Kept trying to apologize. Kept trying to explain.

Until I’d sprayed him with pepper spray and run into the street and...

My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking.

The accident. That’s why I couldn’t remember. The head injury. It had taken all those memories and locked them away.

Until now.