“They know what they’re saying, Maggie,” he scoffed, his attention going back toward the front of the bus. “You always try to see the good in people. You always try to protect the weak. What you don’t understand is I don’t need protecting.” He turned back toward me, his eyes boring into mine.
“You can’t save everything. You can’t save me,” he hissed out. My gaze slid down to his clenched fists, his body built up with aggression. I understood why though. I knew he didn’t want to be protected, and he didn’t want even one friend if there was a chance he would die—and there was. Friends meant when you died you would leave someone behind. You would have a reason to feel guilty about your death. He didn’t want that.
“I don’t want to save you, Diesel,” I murmured.
“Yes, you do. You. The doctors. My parents. They all want to save me. Everyone wants me to live except myself.” There was so much agony in the words he was saying. It was as if he knew his fate and that fighting it was inevitable.
“That isn’t true—” My words cut off as his hand landed on my knee gripping it. He wasn’t hurting me, but he easily could. Even if he was sick, he still had strength.
“It is true. Believe me when I say it’s true. I know what you all think. I know you assume sticking up for me makes it better, maybe you even think if you’re nice to me, when I die, God will grant you something special.”
“That’s not the p—” My words were cut off again as he squeezed my knee. Pain radiated up my leg, and I bit my lip to stifle the cry that wanted to escape my mouth.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Maggie. I don’t want to do anything to ruin you, but whatever you think is going on between us, isn’t. Whatever help you think you can offer, you can’t. In the end, you only hurt yourself and bring more attention to me. Attention I have no need to seek.”
My mind was blank. Like a chalkboard that had been wiped clean. I had nothing to say—at least nothing worth saying. He didn’t care. He didn’t want support, and even though it broke my heart to see others beat him with their words and hands, there was nothing I could do to save someone who didn’t want to be saved. He was right… I was putting my nose somewhere it wasn’t needed. I had been for six months now.
“Do you understand me?” he asked softly. His voice caressed my body in a blanket of warmth. He didn’t realize the good he could produce.
I nodded my head, willing the tears on the verge of slipping from my eyes away. Be strong.
“Good,” he said satisfied with the conversation. His hand slipped from my knee. I had to force myself not to rub the pain out of it.
The rest of the bus ride consisted of me sitting in the far corner of my seat staring out the window pretending his body heat wasn’t what I was feeling next to me. I was forcing myself to not lash out and say something to him—something that would only push him further from me.
As we pulled up to the school and the bus stopped, my heart felt as if it were going to beat out of my chest.
“Remember what I said, Maggie.” His voice was a whisper in the wind as he got out of the seat and pushed into the line to get off the bus. Those words would be the last he would ever speak to me unless I instigated him.
I couldn’t force myself to move. It was as if I had lost control of my body.
Eventually, I found my bearings and slipped into the back of the line, my mind drifting to Diesel’s words. I can’t be saved… Maybe he didn’t think he could be saved, maybe he didn’t think he was worth it—but I did.
Diesel was worth saving. He just didn’t know it yet.
Acknowledgments
Writing Fear You was a lot different from when I wrote Fear Me. With my debut novel, I didn't have the support of my family, readers, or bloggers because I kept my dream a secret for as long as I could for fear of failure.
This time around, I had a huge support system. Fear Me’s success was a wonder, and I have many people to thank for it. Because of you all, there is heavy anticipation for Fear You and I love it.