Rebel Revenge Inc: Rebel: Volume 1
(Rebels Revenge, Volume 1)
Jessica Sorensen
Rebel
Jessica Sorensen
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Copyright © 2018 by Jessica Sorensen
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
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For information: jessicasorensen.com
Cover Design by Mae I Design
Created with Vellum
To Giant Baller and Tiny Baller, you inspire me every day.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Coming Soon!
About the Author
Also by Jessica Sorensen
Prologue
Darkness has become my home, a part of me, woven into my mind like a black lace veil. Nothing exists but darkness and me.
Nothing.
I remember nothing.
I am no one.
I am not here.
I don’t exist.
Only in the darkness.
The chant thrums through my brain, pulsates of faint echoes, begging me not to remember when I open my eyes.
Don’t remember.
Don’t remember.
Don’t remember.
Nothing.
Except the darkness.
Even when you’re in the light …
My eyelids flutter open and light instantly slaughters my eyes. I wince as my brain throbs against my skull, pleading to shut my eyes again and return to the darkness. But I refuse to go to that place ever again. To wherever I was before I got here.
Wait … Where is here even?
With a shaky inhale, I force my eyelids to remain open and take in my surroundings. A tree domed canopy above me, pale silver sunlight glistening through the branches, and an overcast of light trickling in from the Electric Station City, where I live.
The place radiates with electric gadgets so powerful it lights up the sky, hence the name. It’s also located in the center of a forest, the restricted tree area unless you have a pass.
So, I’m close to the city? That’s a start. But where is here exactly?
I assess the trees, the shrubbery, and the blooming flowers enclosing around me, and the dirt, leaves, and twigs below me.
A forest.
I’m in the middle of the woods, someplace near the Electric Station City.
God, please don’t let me be in the restricted area.
“How the hell did I get in the woods?” I mumble as I slowly sit up, clutching my pulsating head. My skull feels fractured, my brain oozing out of its cracks. Did I crack my head open? It seriously feels like I did.
I slowly let my fingers wander along my hairline, over the top of my head, and along my forehead. When I reach my right temple, a sharp pain spreads through my skull and a sticky substance coats my fingers. I withdraw my hand, and my stomach clenches. Blood. Fresh blood.
The wound happened recently.
I rack my brain for the memory of how I was injured and how the hell I ended up in the middle of the woods, but all I see is darkness. Miles and miles of empty darkness that fills my head. Then a faint memory flickers in my mind. Bright, flashing lights, electric shots, dancing, laughing …
I was at a party not too long ago.
“Okay, that’s a start,” I mutter, struggling to connect all the dots. “I was at a party … with Travis. It was late … There were electric shots being served … I was drinking …” I flinch as my brain groans in protest, refusing to see any further and leaving my mind spinning with unanswered questions.
Did I wander away from the party and pass out drunk here in the fucking restricted woods? How much time has passed? Are people searching for me? Is Travis searching for me? What happened during my lost time?
I suddenly become painfully aware that my body is aching in other places. Strange places, like my lower abdomen and between my thighs. Bending my knees, I slant forward and nearly throw up at the sight of dried blood trailing down my leg.
“Oh, my God, did I lose my virginity last night?” I roll over onto my hands and knees and dry heave. No vomit comes out, which means my stomach is empty. Again, I question how long I’ve been out.
After my stomach quits spasming, I stumble to my feet and stick my hand into the back pocket of my shorts to dig out my handheld, but it’s empty. I’m also not wearing any shoes, and my knee-high socks are torn, along with my shirt.
Suddenly, more bits and pieces come rushing back to me. My stomach lurches as tears spill from my eyes.
“No, no no, no, no …” I stumble barefoot through the trees. Branches claw at me as I quicken my pace, hoping to God I’m heading in the direction of the road and not deeper into the trees. But I’ve always had a terrible sense of direction, and for all I know, I could be miles and miles away from civilization.
After running for what feels like hours, until my feet are torn up and bleeding, I start to cry out in a panic. Out of fear. Out of pain. And out of rage.
“Help!” I shout as I brace my hands on a tree trunk. The bark scrapes at my palms while sweat drips down my forehead and I struggle to breathe. “Can anyone hear me? I need help!”
No one ever comes.
Chapter 1
Two Months Later…
Ever since the day I woke up in the woods, I’ve been haunted by the same nightmare. Every night when I get into bed and sleep overcomes me, it fills my thoughts …
This party is supposed to be the party of all parties. Everyone who’s anyone will be attending. The best electric drinks will be served, along with the best drugs. The only way to get in is to be asked by one of the guys throwing it. I’ve had my eye on one guy in particular who I’m hoping will ask me.
Travis Marilellie is the son of one of the owners of the Electric Station City University I attend in Electric Station City. He comes from a very long line of famous people, including his grandfather who invented the handheld hologram. His family are billionaires, and he’s one of the most desirable bachelors on campus. He’s admired by most; even the professors seem to love him. While my family isn’t quite as rich as his, we’re pretty well-respected in the city, so we’d be perfect for each other.
I’ve been wanting to go on a date with him since I ran into him at a party a few months ago. But even though I put out the vibes that I’m interested, he seems to only want to be friends.
Or so I thought.
Today, however, as I’m leaving class, he’s waiting for me outside with that dazzling smile that made my heart flutter the first time I saw it.
“Hey, Wynter.” He approaches me, brushing strands of his hair out of his eyes. Almost all the girls around us glance in his direction, and I secretly smile when he remains focused on me. “I’m glad I ran into you.”
“Ran into you?” I tease, tucking
a strand of my long blonde hair behind my ear. “It kind of looked like you were waiting for me.”
His grin broadens. “All right, you caught me. I was waiting for you.”
I cock a brow. “Sounds sort of stalker-ish to me.”
He presses a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “I come here to woo you off your feet and you call me a stalker?”
“Woo?” I continue to tease while batting my eyelashes. “I think you might be confused about what era we live in.”
“Hey, don’t mock me for wanting to go old-school and sweep a pretty girl off her feet.” He winks.
My heart nearly melts right there.
“All right then, woo away. But you’ll have to do it while you walk me to my next class, or else I’m going to be late.”
With a grin and a bow, he gestures for me to go ahead.
Chuckling, I start down the hallway with my books hugged to my chest. He walks beside me with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pin-striped pants decorated with an array of buckles, occasionally checking me out from the corner of his eye.
I smile to myself, grateful I wore my neon pink leather skirt created by my favorite designer. A sheer white top and my lucky heels top off the outfit. My long blonde hair is curled at the ends, and I just applied a coat of glitter pink lip stain before I exited class, so my lips are all shiny and delicious, and hopefully, look kissable.
I’m not completely clueless when it comes to guys. I know how to flirt. I’ve gone out on more than my fair share of dates. My mom calls me guy crazy, which is fine. I like guys. So what? There’s nothing wrong with that. Although, I’m probably not as experienced as I come off.
While I’ve occasionally fooled around, I’m still a virgin. Not a big deal. I’m only eighteen and just started my second semester of my freshman year. I’m sure there are other girls who haven’t gone all the way yet. Not that I’m saving myself for marriage or anything. I’d just like to be in love before it happens. Is that too much to ask? But, no matter how much I put my heart out there, I’ve never fallen head-over-heels in love with someone. And I want to. Badly.
“So, have you heard about the party my friends are throwing?” Travis asks as we walk through the corridors.
“Yeah, I think almost everyone I’ve crossed paths with has mentioned it,” I say in a light tone. “From what I understand, it’s by invite only.”
“It is.” He comes to a stop in the communal area where several students are studying, watching the news on the array of holograms covering the upper section of the walls, and cyborg waitresses and waiters are roaming around, taking lunch orders. Some people pause to gawk at Travis—he’s that well-known. “I know it makes us seem like snobs, but there’re a lot of people from important families who are going to be there, and they don’t want everyone blabbing about their business. Or worse, reporting it to the media.”
“That makes sense.” Having grown up in a home where appearances are everything, I understand more than I wish I did. I can’t even count the number of times my parents have given me lectures on how to behave and look.
“That does make me curious about what you guys do at all the infamous parties you throw,” I tease with a smile.
His smile mirrors mine. “Well, maybe you should come and find out for yourself.”
“Why, Travis Marilellie, is that your way of wooing me to go to your party?” I fake a southern accent, which elicits a laugh from him.
I secretly smile that I made Travis Marilellie smile.
“Yeah, I guess it is.” He nibbles on his bottom lip. “So, what do you say, Wynter Porterrsen? Would you like to accompany me to a party where I promise to spend all night wooing your heart?”
Wow, I’m pretty sure he just did.
“I’d be honored.”
“Good.” He leans forward and places a soft kiss on my cheek.
He must have just drunk an electric beverage because his lips spark against my skin, adding even more pleasure.
My heart dances in my chest, the smell of his cologne and aftershave intoxicating and—
My eyes pop open as my alarm flashes and blares from my nightstand. I reach over and line my palm to the scanner, shutting it off. Then I dive out of bed and rush to the bathroom where I spend the next couple minutes dry heaving.
Once I’ve pulled my shit together, I splash some water on my face and lift my head to look in the reflector mirror. Those damn dark circles residing under my eyes won’t seem to go away, even with the best cosmetics and laser treatments. Maybe if I could get a decent night’s rest, they would, but for the last couple months, my mind spends most of the night fighting from succumbing to exhaustion. Fighting from succumbing to the nightmares.
My thoughts briefly flicker with images of the nightmare I was having only minutes ago; a nightmare that’s been on auto-repeat since the day I woke up in the woods. It was the start of what led to me waking up terrified, broken, with gaps filling my memory. Just thinking about that day makes the scent of Travis flood my senses, which then makes my stomach clench.
If only I knew back then that, by the time the party was over, I’d vomit whenever I thought of his scent, then maybe I wouldn’t have been so giddy and easy to woo.
I was naïve back then. I thought falling in love with a wealthy, popular guy who could sweep me off my feet was what life was about. I was so stupid.
Not anymore. Now I keep my guard up and make no room for love or relationships. Only school, work, and one final thing.
Revenge.
Chapter 1
After I take a shower, I pull out my steel pipe and take a few hits of savor glimmer haze to ease my nerves. Before I woke up in the woods, I rarely did drugs, mostly due to watching my mom’s addiction to cherry kiss euphoria at a very young age. Now I can’t get through the day without sucking in a few breaths of my new best friend—savor glimmer haze. It’s way less potent than cherry kiss euphoria, only calming the nerves instead of completely knocking me out. Plus, it’s one of the few drugs my dad does traffic, mostly because there’s not a lot of profit in it. The less connected to my father I am, the better.
Just thinking about him makes me suck in another breath of sweet smoke.
In and out, the smoke saturates my lungs until my body feels hazy.
Numb.
Tucking my pipe away in the top drawer of my nightstand, I grab a brush and comb my chin-length blonde hair. It used to be long, but I hacked it off a few nights after the party to get rid of the stench I swore was embedded into each strand, even after I washed it at least ten times. Afterward, I went to a hairstylist to get it trimmed. I didn’t really care if it looked like shit. In fact, I kind of wanted to look hideous. But I wasn’t interested in drawing attention to myself, which was so unlike me.
For eighteen years, I loved being in the spotlight. I was loud-mouthed; loved to speak my mind; wore designer outfits; danced, sang, tried out for talent shows; and stood up against bullies. Now I just want to blend in. I want to sink into the shadows and avoid being seen, at least in the way Travis saw me.
I no longer want to be Wynter Porterrsen. I want to be Wynter, the girl with no last name. A nobody. Just your average girl.
If I had been just your average girl without my stupid last name, that night might have never happened. Or maybe it would’ve. Who really knows?
Either way, I want to be the girl with no last name now.
Noting the time, I step into the closet scanner and punch my outfit choice into the system. Moments later, the doors open and a drawer slides out of the wall with my clothing of choices folded up neatly. I hate that my system does that—makes everything so perfect—but there’s nothing to be done since I live in an electric house.
I can’t remember a time when everything wasn’t run by devices, scanners, and cyborgs, but according to my grandma, times used to be much different. You used to have to cook your own food, fold your own clothes, and clean your own house. Sometimes I wish things were still like that, wh
ere I could rumple my clothes, keep my house messy, and sink into the mess.
Instead, I get perfection, because that’s what the world wants.
Perfection.
Fake perfection.
I slip on the pair of fitted black jeans with tears up the sides, and a grey shirt with metal cuffs. Then I top the look off with a studded leather jacket and thick platform boots decorated with glinting silver buckles and chains. I trace my eyes with a heavy amount of kohl eyeliner, apply neon pink lipstick to my lips, and clip studs into my brows.
I stay away from my designer clothes now and refuse to call in my makeup artist, something I used to do on a regular basis. The boots on my feet are a little scuffed and chipped, and dark blue nail polish cover my short, un-manicured fingernails. Every single part of my getup, from my shoes to my makeup, is the exact opposite of who I used to be. I’ve been sporting the look since a couple weeks after that night.
When my friends first saw me, they flipped the fuck out, which only made me love the look more. It meant I looked different. That I didn’t look like Wynter Porterrsen. It meant that guys like Travis would have a harder time spotting me, of knowing who I was.
I stare at my reflection in the reflector mirror and, even though my eyes are bloodshot, I think I feel the slightest bit better from when I woke up.
“I’m just an ordinary girl,” I whisper to myself.
I wait for a smile to touch my lips, because it feels like I should be happy I accomplished what I wanted. Like the last couple months, though, my lips remain set in a frown. It’s been so long since I’ve seen myself smile—two months, two days, and a handful of hours to be exact. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever see my smile again.
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