Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 41: Broken Souls

Justin’s POV

They said curiosity killed the cat. I knew that. Hell, I knew it — and still, like the dumbass I am, I went to the stupid address Army gave me.

Only to find out it was her place.

What the actual fuck?

Why would she give me her own damn address?

I should’ve left. Should’ve hit reverse and peeled the hell out of there. But I didn’t. Since I was already standing there like a fool, I figured—might as well get to the bottom of whatever mindfuck she was playing at.

She was already waiting when I rang the bell. That same wicked smile on her lips—the kind that made my stomach twist with disgust.

"I knew you’d come," she said, all sugary-sweet, like we were in some sick fairytale.

I didn’t say a goddamn thing.

She stepped aside, ushering me in. I followed, mostly because I didn’t want to keep circling the city like some idiot dog chasing a scent I couldn’t place.

Place was quiet. Guess her folks weren’t around.

Then she beckoned me upstairs.

That made me pause.

A warning flared somewhere in the back of my head—but I ignored it. What the hell could she do to me?

I followed her up the stairs.

But every step felt heavier than the last.

Her room looked exactly how I expected from a spoiled, rich brat—decorated like a Barbie dream, all pastel colors and bright lighting. I hated bright colors. They made me feel exposed. Vulnerable.

"This doesn’t show me a damn thing," I snapped, already pissed at myself for getting lured here—and more pissed at the strange tension crawling under my skin.

"Jeez, impatient much?" she said with that smug little laugh, strutting over to her closet. She pulled something out, and for a second, I couldn’t even process what it was.

A telescope.

Seriously?

She walked over to the window like it was completely normal. "Perfect timing," she said, angling it just right. Her voice was light—too light. She peered through it, looking out toward another house just a few lots away.

"Come see this."

I hesitated.

But I still stepped forward. Like the dumb fool I was.

And I had no idea that what I was about to see would shatter me. Would gut me. Would drag me to the edge of fucking insanity.

As soon as I peered through the telescope, I saw her.

June.

She was sitting on a bed, wrapped in a towel—looked like she’d just gotten out of the shower. My heart stuttered. Her body, even barely visible through the lens, was as beautiful as I remembered. Familiar. Mine. Or so I thought.

She stood, slowly removed the towel, and let it fall.

And just as I was about to whip around and demand why Army was spying on her, June moved.

She climbed onto the bed. Lay down. And opened her legs in a slow, deliberate motion.

A seductive provocation.

That’s when it hit me—she wasn’t alone in the room.

A moment later, a man’s body entered the frame. Naked. Older. Mature. He joined her on the bed, his form shadowing hers. My stomach twisted. My breath caught in my throat.

No.

No. No. No.

I tore my eyes from the lens before I broke the damn thing with my bare hands. My fists were shaking, jaw clenched so tight I thought I might crack my molars.

Army was watching me, savoring the destruction she’d caused.

"Told you she was a cheating slut," she said, her voice dripping with smug poison.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to believe it—couldn’t—but my eyes... they didn’t lie.

June. Naked. With another man.

And that man? He wasn’t some classmate. He was older. Much older.

Too old.

Something felt off. Wrong.

So why the hell did it still feel like betrayal?

And just like that, the voices in my head surged forward like a broken dam. Loud. Unrelenting. Cruel.

You’re not enough.

You’re always the one left behind.

She chose someone else—again.

They reminded me of things I fought to forget. Memories buried under thick skin and thicker silence.

Just like when we were little...

She managed to crush me again.

And maybe I deserved it. Maybe broken things like me were never meant to hold onto anything beautiful.

Army was saying something. I don’t know what. Her voice was just background noise now—static behind the roaring in my ears.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t fucking breathe.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes like that could stop what I’d just seen from existing.

She was with someone else. She opened her legs for someone else.

And I—God, I felt it. Like something inside me was tearing open with rusted nails.

"Justin?" Army’s voice turned sweet, sultry. "You don’t have to waste another thought on her."

Her hand touched my arm.

Wrong move.

I flinched back like she burned me.

Then she tried again—bolder this time, pressing her chest to me like I’d forget everything if I just got a taste of her.

"You deserve better, Justin," she whispered, fingers sliding toward my belt. "Let me make you forget—"

I snapped.

"Don’t fucking touch me!" I shoved her off me so hard she stumbled into the bed, eyes wide.

She didn’t get it. None of them ever got it.

This wasn’t heartbreak. This was ruin.

I was breaking.

No—I was already broken.

I turned and bolted out the door, down the stairs, out into the night. My hands clawed into my hair, nails scraping my scalp as the voices rose like a storm in my skull.

She lied. She used you. Just like before. Just like always.

You’re nothing. Less than nothing.

She’s better off. He’s better than you. Everyone is.

Kill the noise. Kill it. Make it stop.

"Shut up!" I growled to no one, to everyone, to the ghosts in my head. I kicked a trash bin on the curb, sent it clattering down the street.

I was losing it. Fully, completely, devastatingly losing it.

And I didn’t know if I wanted to be found

I got in my car. Slammed the door harder than necessary. The silence inside was suffocating.

I drove.

No destination. No plan.

Just away.

Away from Army’s grin.

Away from the image of June opening herself for another man.

Away from the feeling of my own ribs caving in around a heart I wished would stop beating.

The city blurred past me in streaks of red lights and darkness. My grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, my knuckles sore from clenching too damn hard.

My head spun. My chest felt hollow.

The voices... they weren’t whispers anymore.

They were screams.

She lied. She used you.

You were never enough. Not then. Not now.

They’ll always leave. They’ll always choose someone else.

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed. free𝑤ebnovel.com

I rolled the window down. Let the cold slap my face. It didn’t help.

Nothing helped.

I slammed my palm against the steering wheel. Once. Twice. Over and over until the pain in my hand matched the one in my chest.

Drive into a wall.

Floor it. Just fucking end it.

I gritted my teeth. Shook my head violently like I could shake them out. But they were louder than ever. Louder than her.

I almost turned toward the club.

Almost.

But no. I wasn’t looking for release tonight. I wasn’t looking to feel in control.

I just wanted to not feel at all.

I pulled off the road into a dark, empty parking lot behind a closed diner.

Killed the engine.

And just sat there.

Breathing.

Barely.

The silence in the car was thick—like fog in my lungs, choking me slowly. The dashboard lights glowed faintly against my face, painting me in a shade of guilt I didn’t want to wear. I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel, fingers twitching against the leather.

"Stop," I muttered. "Shut up. Shut the fuck up."

But the voices didn’t listen. They never listened.

Instead, they cackled. Loud. Mocking.

Did you really think she was different?

You’re broken. Rotten. She saw it.

She left because she saw what you are.

I slammed my fist against the dashboard, the pain blooming instantly. But pain felt real. Grounding. It reminded me I still existed even if I didn’t want to anymore.

My breath hitched as the image of June on that bed flashed in my head again—her legs spread, her eyes closed, another man’s body hovering over hers. That towel falling. That gasp. Her submission.

My soul screamed.

"STOP!" I shouted at nothing, the sound ricocheting off the inside of the car. I dragged at my hair, fingers knotted in it, tugging like I could rip the thoughts out with the roots.

But they were inside.

Inside me.

Just like they used to be back in the lab.

My mind slammed open like a rusted door, creaking, unraveling memories I had buried under blood and survival.

The metal table.

The wires.

The electrodes stuck to my temples.

The soft voice through the speakers: "Tell us what the voices are saying now, Justin."

The pain. The buzzing. The voices back then were children. Infants compared to what they’ve become now—these monsters that lived in me, wearing my skin.

I laughed. Or maybe I sobbed. They sounded the same.

I clawed at my arms like I could dig my way out of myself. Like maybe beneath the skin, I could find silence. Find peace.

A scream built in my throat, shaking, guttural, feral. I slammed both hands against the roof of the car, over and over again until my skin split, until the dull metal throbbed like my skull.

The world outside the windshield warped—headlights blurred into stars. I tasted iron on my tongue.

"I should’ve never fucking trusted her," I whispered.

But it wasn’t about her anymore.

It was about me.

About the boy they created in the lab.

The boy who heard voices.

The boy they forgot.

The one who never got out, not really.

I curled up in the driver’s seat like a kid again, hands over my ears, rocking back and forth as the voices danced like demons around me, whispering things I couldn’t repeat without vomiting.

And still—under all the madness, beneath the filth and rage and heartbreak—her name still surfaced.

June.

My June.