by R. A. Smyth
As I predicted, Robert, Mr. Belmont, and Mr. Donaghue take themselves off to my father’s study, and Thomas escorts Mrs. Belmont to the sitting room, where there is a roaring fire she can enjoy while she continues drinking herself into a stupor - not that I can blame her if she lives with that disgusting pig.
Just as I go to make my escape, practically running from the room, a hand snakes out and grabs me by the wrist. Quickly turning around, Preston and Barrett are standing right behind me. Preston’s arm is outstretched, holding on tightly to mine, as if he has any fucking right to touch me. Yanking it back as though he has burnt me, I snarl out, “Don’t fucking touch me!”
I must be more on edge from that encounter at dinner than I realized, but you know what, fuck him! Fuck him for thinking he can just paw all over me like he owns me. Fuck Neill for thinking he can just decide where and when we are going to have sex and think I’m just going to go along with it. And while we’re at it, fuck Kurt and his creepy lecherous looks and threats.
Preston gives me a weird look but thankfully he lets me go, dropping his arm back to his side while Barrett frowns and starts looking me over in an assessing manner. I see the change in his expression when his gaze reaches my knees and he notices the half-moon marks left by his disgusting father.
“What the hell is that?” He demands, pointing to the marks in my thigh. “You didn’t have that before dinner.” He states obviously. It only takes a second of thinking it through before he puts two and two together and he barks out, “Did my fucking father do that to you?”
I keep my face carefully blank, but he must read something in my eyes as he doesn’t even wait for me to reply before cursing up a storm and stomping off.
Preston continues to give me an assessing look, as if waiting for me to refute what Barrett said, before turning around and following after his friend.
I have no idea what all of that was about but I’m so done with today, with these fucked up families and their pretentious children thinking they can get whatever the hell they want. They have no idea what it’s like living in the real world, surviving in the real world. These idiots wouldn’t last a day in my shoes.
Stopping by the kitchen to lift an entire bottle of champagne, I head upstairs and straight into the bathroom where I fill the tub with scalding hot water and lavender bath bombs. I strip off my clothes and sink into the heat with my bottle of happy juice, not even bothering with a glass, just tipping the bottle back and downing it.
And that is where I stay for the rest of the afternoon until my skin is so wrinkly I look like a ninety-year-old lady. I don’t leave my room for the rest of the holiday, until I am forced to go back to school on Monday morning.
Chapter 26
BARRETT
Ihad to get out of there. I couldn’t be in that house another second; see the marks my father left on her leg. He touched her against her will. He fucking touched her.
I knew something was up at dinner when she was being weird, I just didn’t know it was because my scumbag of a father was groping her under the table.
The look on her face when she realised we knew what had happened was even worse. She was afraid, like she thought we would blame her for my father’s actions. The emotion was only there for a second before she slammed her mental walls into place, preparing herself for whatever shitty thing we were going to say to her. Seeing her have that reaction to us pushed me over the edge. Even worse than my hatred for my father, was my hatred for myself; knowing I caused her to feel that way and act like that towards us.
Storming out of the room, I high-tailed it out to my car and flew down the drive, barely slowing down as the guards rushed to open the gates in time. Who the fuck needs guards anyway?
Escaping from that house, I couldn’t bear to go back to my parent’s place; even to the pool house. I can’t risk running into my father. God knows what I would do if I ran into him right now.
Just the thought of being in their space, in that cold, empty house full of their exorbitantly expensive crap that they care about more than each other, or me, has me grinding my teeth. The ever-simmering pot of anger inside me bubbling up and boiling over.
Instead, I head back to our warehouse, our sanctum sanctorum. It’s the only place either of us truly feel like we can be ourselves.
Preston had the place built last year, when we started investigating Charles. He’s been skimming money from his dad’s bank accounts for years now. Charles is too busy trying to become richer, become more powerful, that he hasn’t been paying any attention to what he already has, or well, had.
Preston needed a game plan to get out from under his father’s thumb, to permanently separate himself from him, and there is no way he could achieve that without money.
So, we built the warehouse. Our own place where we could come to get away from the shitshow that is our lives, and just chill, be ourselves, without fear of someone interrupting or overhearing us. It also gives us a safe place to hide all of the information we have gathered on Charles.
The drive to the warehouse flashes by so quickly I barely remember it. One minute I was leaving the Montgomerys and the next I’m pulling off the main road onto the hidden gravel path leading to the steel structure.
Getting out of the car, I head over to the door, stick my key in the lock, and let myself in. Not wanting to remember anything about this day, I grab my stash of joints and a bottle of whiskey, then make my way over to the sofa and drop down onto it.
Opening the whiskey, I down two huge gulps before setting it on the coffee table and lighting the joint. Bliss.
I don’t know how long I sit there, drinking myself into a stupor, before Preston arrives. I knew he would find me here. Even if he didn’t know me that well, the perimeter alarm will have notified him of my arrival.
Grabbing himself a beer, he sits down on the sofa opposite me, the whole cushion sinking underneath his weight and his broad frame looking completely out of proportion with the small couch.
The man is built like a tank. He spends way too much time working out in the gym; he seriously needs to get a life. Things have only gotten worse since the Montgomerys arrived, and I’m pretty sure it’s not only because of the stress associated with his father and Robert. A hot little vixen who stands out by a mile in this town, with her sexy accent and no shits given persona, is definitely part of the reason he’s wound so tightly.
It’s not like he’s the only one. She’s been getting to me too. I’ve also been spending more time than normal in the gym, going a few rounds in the ring with Preston. Mostly, though, I’ve been taking to the running track to burn off the stress and exhaust myself, so I don’t think of her; but damn if she doesn’t creep into my thoughts at night or haunt my dreams. It’s so fucking difficult though, watching her ass running around the track in front of me in her tight lycra pants.
She’s the only girl on the team – God forbid any woman in Crescentwood be caught sweating in front of anyone – and don’t think I haven’t noticed the attention she gets from the other guys. Not that she is even aware of their lingering gazes and heated looks. The assholes all backed off once I gave them my best death glare though. I may come across as the laid-back, flirty, funny guy; but that doesn’t mean I can’t be formidable when I need to be, and for some reason, Sophie brings out the beast in me.
Preston and I sit in silence for a long time, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. Eventually, he asks, “You ok man?”
“Yeah…No…I dunno.” I respond, shaking my head. I’ve no idea anymore. I knew my father was a cheating sack of shit, but to put his filthy fucking hands on a woman who isn’t interested; and to dig his nails in that deeply so she can’t get free, it makes my blood boil.
Even at that, I know my reaction is because he put his hands on Sophie. The girl is getting to me, more than she should be. I can’t fucking stand watching that shitbag, Neill, touching and kissing her every fucking day.
“What’s going on man?”
&nbs
p; “He fucking touched her!” I shout at him, slurring the words a little, thanks to the copious amounts of whiskey I’ve consumed in the last hour. How can he not be as pissed off as I am?
“Yeah, I saw.” He says without emotion, like he could care less. It’s an act though, it’s gotta be. Surely he’s not so twisted up in whatever is going on with his father and Robert that he would be ok with any woman, with Sophie, being touched against her will.
“What the fuck, man? Are you so far gone that you can’t see how wrong it is that my father touched her when she clearly didn’t want him to? Even if you don’t like or trust the girl, that’s still fucked up.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He snarls out, getting worked up at my accusations. “I’m pissed at your father too. My head is as messed up as yours when it comes to this girl, but we can’t let it cloud our judgement.”
Sighing wearily, I’m so sick of having this same conversation with him. I keep trying to convince him he’s wrong about Sophie, but he doesn’t listen to anything I say when it comes to her.
“Man, give it up. I’ve told you before, she’s not working with her old man.”
“We don’t know that for sure Barrett! I can’t afford to take any risks when it comes to my father. Until we know for certain, we have to be careful.”
“Fine then,” I snap out, frustrated, “let’s find out once and for all. What we’re doing isn’t working. We need to confront her, get some real answers from her and hear what she has to say. Then we can either deal with it, or move on.” I’m feeling the whiskey and I’m not entirely sure what I’m saying, but hopefully, when we know once and for all, he will finally drop this shit.
Maybe then I’d have a shot with Sophie.
“Fine.” He agrees, “One final push to break her, to get her to spill everything she knows. Then we’re done.”
Chapter 27
SOPHIE
Unfortunately, Monday morning comes all too soon. One week off was not nearly enough time. I’m painfully aware that I haven’t heard anything from Alexis or the girls, or Neill, all week. Not that I really expected to hear from Neill again, but I’m a bit concerned about why I haven’t heard anything from the girls, and I’m not sure what that means.
During our short friendship, we haven’t become fast besties who text each other incessantly, but there was always some chit chat or gossip going back and forth during the day in our group chat, but no one has said anything since the start of Thanksgiving break.
I know they were all away skiing and whatnot for the holidays so it's possible they have just been busy, but still, surely some sort of gossip happened over the break that one of them should be discussing; especially if there were several school parties like Preston and Barrett implied.
My stomach churns with nerves all morning while I shower and get dressed. Feeling the need for stronger armour today, I coat my eyes with a thick layer of eyeliner and paint on a pale pink lipstick choice which is ironically called ‘Get up. Stand up’. It feels like a fitting choice for today. I don’t know what it is but I just have this gut feeling that I’m going to need to be strong today, or well stronger than I usually need to be.
Oliver drops me off at school, as per usual, and I get out and make my way in. The minute I step foot through the front door, I immediately know something is wrong.
The hall goes deathly quiet and everyone stops what they are doing to look at me. The sickening feeling in my stomach intensives and my palms are slick with sweat. This is bad. Something is very, very wrong.
I make my way towards my locker further down the corridor, trying to ignore the stares and whispers as I walk by. I keep my head up and pointed straight ahead, not looking at anything or anyone in particular, but equally not showing any weakness or letting on that these pretentious shitbags are getting to me.
The quiet continues as I make my way down the hall. None of the usual hustle and bustle of a Monday morning is present, when everyone dumps stuff in their lockers and sorts out what books they need for their first few classes. Everyone is just standing there, almost as though they are readying themselves for something, like they have been called to attention, waiting for some sort of fucking show.
Closing in on my locker, I notice Alexis and her friends standing in front of it, blocking my way, waiting for me to arrive. If it wasn’t for all the eyes drilling into the back of my head and the evil smirk on Alexis’s face, I’d think the girls were here to greet me after our time apart last week.
Finally stopping in front of them, I don’t see any point in even putting on a fake smile and pretending I don’t notice our audience, or know that whatever they have planned is going to break a part of me. So instead, I stand and stare her down with my best resting bitch face in place.
Alexis’s eyebrows draw together as her eyes narrow in irritation. She’s annoyed that I’m not reacting how she wanted me to. Stupid bitch.
Drawing herself up to her full height, she gives me a smug smile, pleased at having got one over on me.
“In case you haven’t already realised, we’re done with you.” She states, as though it wasn’t obvious, in a voice loud enough to ensure our surrounding audience doesn’t miss a single word.
Quickly casting my eyes around our captive audience, I see each and every one of them are enthralled by the drama unfolding before them, some of them practically salivating over my destruction.
“Why?” I ask in a much quieter voice, not wanting every dimwit and their granny to hear this conversation. I need to know though. I need to know what would drive someone to string another person along like that.
Shrugging nonchalantly, she says, “The one-percenters asked us to. They said if we pretend to be your friend and broke your silly little heart that we would be invited to all of their parties for the rest of the year.”
A party? She went along with all of this so she could attend a fucking party? What the actual fuck is wrong with these people? Not a single fucking one of them has a moral bone in their body. They just can’t comprehend the difference between right and wrong.
There were people I knew growing up, struggling to get by but refusing to get involved in gangs or do illegal shit because they knew it wasn’t right. Hell, one of the older ladies in my street used to make me a hot meal during the winter, knowing I was likely going without, even though she didn’t have any more money to spare than we did. That lady, those people, had more fucking human decency in their little finger than these people have in their entire fucking bodies.
Yet these people here have the means to change people’s livelihoods, the funds to make a significant difference to the lives of those with less, and, instead, all they are concerned about is what parties they can attend and who has the latest, most expensive purse, or shoe, or car. I’ve never been so disappointed or disgusted by anyone in my life.
Before I can blow my fuse at these fuckwits, Neill appears out of nowhere, strolling through the crowd, who part for him without complaint, and slings his arm around my shoulder. For one stupid second, I think he’s here to support me, to stand up for me, but of course not. I’ve had to stand up for myself my entire life, why would that change now? No, Neill is definitely not my prince charming, here to save the day. Not that I need someone to save my ass.
Turning to look at him, struggling to maintain my game face, knowing the cracks are evident as I fight to hold back the emotion wanting to burst out, he gives me that smile of his, but now I can see the underlying malice. He was playing me. This whole time.
“Awh, don’t cry babe,” he says condescendingly, ensuring everyone is listening to him, “Didn’t you wonder why people like us would hang out with the likes of you? At least put some effort into your appearance,” he sneers before leaning in to whisper in my ear, so only I can hear, “You should have ridden my dick while you had the chance,” before standing back up to his full height, smiling cruelly.
Everyone in the hall bursts out laughing, just as the b
ell goes and they all start to disperse. Alongside the aching hurt I feel at these people’s betrayal, I can feel my anger at them all, at the fucking one-percenters, for doing this to me.
As the crowd thins, I see Preston and Barrett standing at the far end of the hall. Of course, they are. They are the ones that orchestrated this whole thing, they wouldn’t want to miss the big finale. Preston stands tall, smirking at me as my heart freely bleeds in front of them. Barrett can’t even look me in the eye, the coward.
Taking a deep breath, I rein in my emotions, firmly put my mask in place so they can’t see how broken I am by this, and straighten my back so I’m standing tall. They may have gotten to me today, but like I’ve been saying, I’ve been through worse, and I will get over this too.
The crowd thins out as everyone heads off to class. Preston and Barrett don’t move an inch though, standing there, staring me down until we are the only ones left. I glare right back at them, focusing on my anger and hatred to cover up the pain radiating through my chest.
The minute the two of them turn around and leave me alone in the empty corridor, I let my mask slip, unbidden tears leaking out and running down my cheeks as I turn on my heel and rush out the door. I’m so fucking done with this school.
I should have known it was all too good to be true. Of course, it was too coincidental that, all of a sudden, the ban was lifted and these girls took me in like I was a homeless puppy. Hell, I didn’t even have anything in common with those girls, I was just so starved of attention, too desperate for acceptance, that I jumped at the first sign of friendship and didn’t even question it. So stupid of me.
Not that knowing this fixes any of the hurt those girls just inflicted on me. We may not have had much of a friendship, but for the first time ever, I had people in my life other than just my mum. I felt accepted, part of something. I felt like a normal teenager, just having fun and enjoying life.