by Lindsey Iler
Out on the front lawn, I lift my head towards the sky, praying to be struck down by lightning in the middle of a sunny day. The odds are stacked against me, much like they are to survive this.
“Palmer Weston.” My mother’s voice breaks me free from the fog that’s overtaken my thoughts. “Get over here right now. You have some explaining to do.”
I see her and my father crossing the path to me. Not once did they tell me they would be at the ceremony today. They’re both alumni, meeting each other freshman year and living out some rich kid fantasy of marrying your high school sweetheart.
“Mom, that wasn’t me,” I explain, holding up my hands, begging them to understand.
She reaches up and connects her flat palm across my cheek. “You are a disgrace. You want to know why your sister was so beloved? It was because she was smart and beautiful and everything you will never be.” Her hand raises again to punish my face for what she believes I’ve done wrong.
My father grips her wrist, stopping her assault. “Karen, let’s go. It’s not worth it.”
What he means is I’m not worth it.
Hand in hand, they walk away from me. Abandoned and in shock, I punch the closest thing I can. My knuckles split and bleed on the brick sign.
Doors slam behind me, and I turn to find a sea of angry glares directed at me. Marek leads the pack, with Byron, Dixon, and Breaker flanking him. They have a new darkness in their eyes, more so than before. Perhaps I haven’t wanted to see it. Maybe Reed’s memory has blinded me, making it so I’m only willing to accept what she’d told me about them.
The corner of Marek’s lips lifts as he turns away from me, proving what I already know.
Near the corner of the building, Julia Webb is arguing about something with Declan Dumas. When she tries to leave, his hand wraps around her bicep, pulling her in close. She winces under his strength. What could Declan have to do with a fourteen-year-old girl? They disappear into the building, forcing my attention to the crowd outside.
Every glare they believe I’ve earned. Without question, my classmates believe what they heard instead of being willing to look through to the truth.
I’ve been made the criminal by the real villains.
But why? Everything that has happened between Marek and me has seemed genuine, and although a little fucking twisted, there’s no way it can all have been a lie.
“What the hell was that?” Delaney finally catches up to me as I’m pushing my pin number into the dorm keypad for the third time. My room is the only place I want to be right now, and of course, access is denied.
The sun glints off the shiny black paint on Breaker’s Escalade. From the passenger seat, Dixon winks, then rolls up the window, disappearing behind the tinted glass.
“God dammit!” I shout, gesturing for Delaney to try her code.
They are responsible for this. All of it. The pulling me into their vortex. The making me feel safe among the monsters. The baffling false recording. Now, my safe haven. Locking me out of my dorm is their way of showing me they’ve got my number.
They know how to make me weak.
I run the steps two at a time and slam my door once Delaney and I are safe behind it. The rug shifts as I pace back and forth.
“That wasn’t you, was it?” She plops down on my bed. “I mean, it couldn’t be you.”
“No, it wasn’t me.” I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping to stop the threatening tears.
“Do you know who it was?” Her tone strikes me as interesting. She doesn’t want to believe Breaker could be capable of something like this. “It can’t be who I think it is.”
“They fooled me, had me believing something that’s been a game all along.”
“I’ve been around when Marek looks at you, Palmer.”
“Do you see him here now? Don’t you think he’d be knocking at my door, trying his hardest to explain that he didn’t play any part in this mess?” I argue, collapsing on my mattress. A minute later, I sit up and look into Delaney’s sympathetic face. “Everything is falling apart.”
“It’s going to be okay. This will pass, and everyone will move onto the next thing. I’m certain of it.”
“No, it won’t. I’m their new target.”
******
It’s been a week. Things are eerily quiet. Everyone is acting as if they didn’t witness my mother slapping me, like they didn’t hear the doctored recording of me and Marek. Missing girls seem to be a topic we’re so accustomed to, that everything seems normal on campus.
Paranoia is starting to set in. If the boys are quiet, then they have to be plotting something.
Their absence has given me ample time to process everything I know. It’s been a year since Reed disappeared. The boys were convincing enough that I fell for their nice guy act, only to find out it was a cruel joke. But why? The only thing I ever did was not die when she did.
Are they cruel enough to hold that against me?
Their absence should give me a sense of relief, but the opposite is true. I’m more scared than ever. Sleep is evading me. There’s no place where I’m not checking over my shoulder. Behaving like a victim before I become one has a way of twisting my sense of security.
I walk into English and find the room empty. The time on my phone says class should be starting any minute now. I sit in my usual seat, take out my notebook, and read over the paper that’s due today. Nervous energy fills the space around me, and I catch myself fiddling with the hem of my skirt.
A quick check of my phone lets me know class is now ten minutes late. Pulling up my email, I assume I’ll find a message I’ve missed informing me of the change, but my inbox is empty.
“Huh?” I sit up a little straighter, examining the large, empty stadium-type seating in the lecture hall.
The lights flicker, bringing unease through my mind, and I twist back to the front.
Marek stands in the center of the room. He has on his uniform, and his hair is a fuss on the top of his head. He stalks towards me. It’s then I notice Breaker slipping through the left side door, Dixon at the right, and one quick glance behind me shows Byron guarding the top exit.
“What’s the plan, Marek?” I gather my books and stand. He’s on me before I can take a single step. “There has to be a plan, right, for this all to make sense?”
“Sit down.” His flat palm lands on my chest and shoves me into the chair. “We need to talk.”
I try to stand again, and I’m put back in my place. “This isn’t funny, Marek. Tell me there’s a reason for all this fucked up bullshit. Put me at ease.”
“Does it look like I’m laughing, Palmer?” He bends down and puts his face in front of mine. I turn away, and his fingers dig into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.
“Let me go,” I plead, clawing at his hand.
Marek leans in closer, pressing his lips to mine, catching me by surprise. I melt into him, hating myself the whole time I do. When he pulls away, a knowing, sinister smile turns up his lips in the corner.
“Go ahead, baby.” He releases my face but places his hands in the front of my hair. “Fight me. Try your fucking hardest, but don’t forget, we will always be stronger than you.”
“But not smarter,” I bite back, straightening my spine, a false claim of the strength he thinks I lack.
“You so sure about that, Palmer?” He bites his bottom lip and backs away, his eyes on me the entire time. “Trust me enough to give you what you need.”
“I don’t trust you at all.” I narrow my eyes on him and stand, moving to the side to get around his large frame. “Don’t you get that?”
Marek’s jaw clenches tight, and his fingers wiggle at his sides. He’s an uncontrollable force, and like any other force, once it’s started, there’s no stopping it.
“Will you just listen to me, hear what I’m trying to say?” He steps in front of me, blocking my escape and demolishing that sense of security I’m trying desperately to get back. “Don’t you get it by now?�
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“Marek.” Byron’s tone is menacing, challenging him.
Marek’s head jerks towards the top of the classroom. When Marek’s eyes break from Byron back to me, I see it. That thing he so desperately wants me to understand.
Trust him even when I shouldn’t. But why?
Weighing my options leads me to believe Breaker is the easy choice. Dixon and Byron release a mutual guttural groan when I don’t go to them.
“You think I’m soft, huh?” Breaker lifts his hand, blocking the door. I shake my head, too afraid of how frail my voice will sound if I try to argue with him. “Don’t mistake my pretty boy face for niceness. Two of them have already tasted you, and I’m looking for mine, Palmer.” At his warning, I swallow the large lump in my throat, instantly aware of the threat nipping at my heels. “Have a nice day, sweetheart.”
Once I’m out the door, their laughter chases me through the front entrance and onto the lawn. I rest my forearms on my knees, allowing my bag to hit the dirt. Every breath is needles poking into my chest.
“Whore.” Two hands slam into my back, and I’m shoved forward, falling to my knees. Rocks grind into my skin. I glance over my shoulder and see a lot of blonde hair wrapped in Marek’s arms. “That’s where you belong, anyway.”
Quinn Herrington. Reed had mentioned seeing her chase after the boys. Seems she’s gotten what she wants. The way she gazes up at Marek makes bile climb my throat. He catches me watching them. I should glance away, but I can’t. Am I imagining the plea for understanding coming from him?
I push off the ground, only to take a book to the back by Dixon. Marek literally steps right over me, like I’m nothing, the complete opposite of what he made me believe moments ago. I’m the center of attention, and everyone is hiding behind their hands to whisper in someone’s ear, finding my pain as entertainment.
Shoulder to shoulder, they walk away from me, not one of them bothering to look at their handy work. I’m where they always intended me to be. I’m no longer lost in the shadows, blissfully hidden away. They’ve set the tone for me to be at the front of everyone’s attention.
With labored breath, I rush past the crowd Marek and Dixon somehow conjured up to witness my downfall. When I’m far enough away, my steps slow. I grip the metal light pole, willing my chest to stop burning.
When my vision clears, my eyes skim down the black metal until I spot the gold plaque. The embossed letters are cold against my fingers.
Georgina Matthews. May her short life shine light on yours.
Unable to stay on my feet, I slink down to the bench. I close my eyes only to be greeted by visions of Georgina’s twisted body, immediately followed by one of Reed’s bloody dorm room.
Overcome by it all, tears prickle at the back of my eyes. This is too scary, and if there’s one thing I am, it’s tired of being frightened all the time.
I rush through campus and manage to survive the rest of my classes, only to have a small run-in with Breaker in the cafeteria around dinner time. He knocks my tray out of my arms, spilling my dinner down the front of my uniform. Breaker bows to his followers as if he’s accomplished something.
Not bothering to clean up the mess on the floor, I run from the building to the sound of laughter and applause. Dixon and Byron step into my path, and I skirt around them.
“Don’t worry, Miss Weston, we love a fighter,” Byron calls out.
Kings in their castles, declaring who is beneath them, and who is worthy.
I run straight to my building, but when I enter my code, it doesn’t work. Even after getting it fixed the other day, I’m locked out again. Maybe if I bang my head on the door enough, I’ll wake up and this day will have been a simple nightmare.
My phone vibrates. Marek’s name is on the screen. I guess I’m not dreaming.
Try 1-0-4-5.
I look around to see if I’m alone before I type in the code. The door clicks, and I open it and ease into the building. As I rush to the elevator, I scan everything in sight, hoping to spot the next attack before it hits me.
Them stealing my trust is one thing, but now, they’re after my safety.
I unlock the door to my dark apartment. This is nothing new, but right now, it might be more than I can handle. My body itches with the stench of today’s chaos. I strip on the way to the bathroom, turn on the light, and jump into the shower. The water burns my flesh, and with a hand on the cool tile wall, I accept the sting it brings.
Through the steam, orange blossom and leather hit my senses. Warmth wraps around me as a familiar hand flattens on my taut skin. With his fingers splayed out, Marek pulls me into his chest.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
This is when I should be scared. I’m helpless here, alone, yet not.
His head dips down, and his chin rests on my shoulder, his lips close to my ear. He takes a few breaths, his chest moving in rhythm with mine. We are both struggling to stay still.
As if he can read my mind, I’m spun around, and my back hits the tile. His hand slides across my collarbone and creeps up around my neck.
“Do it,” I goad, dropping my attention to his dick.
“Do you get off on pushing me?” His fingers tighten enough for me to notice the subtle movement. The pressure is uncomfortable.
“Do you get off on pushing me?” I jerk forward to try to loosen his hold, only for him to squeeze tighter.
“You have no idea how far I’m capable of pushing you, Palmer.” I watch his lips as he slings the threat.
Like a lightning storm brewing between us, his lips crash into mine, and I’m hoisted up into his arms. He devours my mouth, and my brain short circuits when his tongue slips across my lips.
Everything is forgotten.
I’m me. He’s him. That’s all that matters.
“Fuck!” Marek pulls back, slamming his fist next to my head so hard I think he’s cracked the tile. Some internal debate plays out in his eyes, and the moment he grimaces, I know I’m going to get a different version of the Marek I’ve experienced this far.
Before I can brace myself, he pushes inside of me. The move is effortless, and I’m surprised when he leans his forehead against mine, watching me as he fucks me against the shower wall.
My mind is telling me to push him off, tell him no, but my body has other plans. With my arms wrapped around his shoulders, I hold on for dear life, riding our pleasure until his body tenses against mine.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he moans in my ear, coming inside of me.
With an unexpected gentleness, he sets my feet on the shower floor. The warm proof of Marek being inside of me, pools between my thighs. I squeeze them together, covering my chest, suddenly self-conscious of being exposed to him.
Without speaking, Marek grabs my shampoo and washes my hair. Once it’s rinsed, he slathers on the conditioner, running his fingers through the strands under the warm water until it’s clean.
“What are you—” He holds up a finger, silencing me.
My time is limited with him, so I don’t say anything else, instead, choosing to accept whatever he does to me.
He reaches behind me and grabs my pink loofa, squirting a quarter-sized amount of body wash on the middle. Like this is completely normal behavior, he hands me the bottle to put back in its place. When my back is turned, Marek bends down, putting my senses on high alert. He starts at my ankle and works his way slowly up my calf, then switches to the other leg to continue the torture. The small cuts on my knees are tender.
He shows undivided attention to every inch of my body, hissing in a breath when his fingers creep between my legs. He’s gentler than I’ve ever imagined him capable of.
Once he’s happy with his work, he turns the shower knob, stopping the flow of water, sending a direct chill over my body. After sliding the curtain back, Marek steps out, grabs a towel, and holds it out in front of him. I step into the plush material, and he wraps it around my wet body.
“You didn’t wear a co
ndom,” I say, passing by him to get to my closet.
“Count yourself lucky, sweetie. I’ve never done without one before.” As he steps out into my living room, his pants aren’t buttoned, and his shirt is dangling from his hand. “I’m a cruel son of a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.” He slips the shirt on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. “I’m clean, so you can go ahead and chill the fuck out.”
“I think I have every right to be freaking out, Marek. You snuck into my shower and had sex with me.” I drop the towel, knowing damn well what my plan is. He wants to storm in here, acting like an entitled cave man, then I get to torture him a little bit. “And it isn’t me I’m worried about.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Palmer? You don’t exactly come off as the kind of girl with a permanent penicillin drip attached to her arm.”
“Not exactly what I meant, Marek. You’re smart though. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Maybe next time you’ll be a little smarter, and not take something that isn’t freely given.”
In a flash, his hands are wrapped around my neck like they were in the shower, except this time, it’s menacing, not thrilling. My naked body is pinned against the front door, the handle forced into my back. There will be a bruise there tomorrow.
“Don’t pretend like I pushed anything on you that you didn’t want.”
“Did you ask?” I grab his wrist, trying to gain some relief.
“Oh, we’re going to play it that way, then?” He pries my hand off and pins it above my head. “You didn’t have to ask with words, Palmer. All you had to do was look at me for me to know exactly how eager you are.” He examines my body like it belongs to him.
“You’re hurting me,” I whisper, clawing at his hand.
He releases me, as if my words have burned him, and eyes my neck. Without a response, he scoops up his shoes and pushes me away from the door.
He’s barely had the chance to storm off in his show of dominance when I call out, “Oh, Marek?”