Tormented: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Elginvale High Book 1)

by Esme Devlin

  “And you would have listened if I’d told you to stop?” I raise my eyebrows to assure him I already know the answer.

  “Who knows? You do have a nice pussy. And it was soaking, by the way.” He grins at me.

  I snort at him, before I give my cheeks the opportunity to turn bright fucking red at his direct appraisal. “That does not mean I wanted it.”

  “Oh, really? See, I specifically remember you kissing me right back, but maybe my memory is hazy. If only we had some way of verifying that?” He puts his fingers on in his chin and stands there, legs apart like his balls are too big to fit between them.

  The uneasy, sinking feeling I had when I first saw him get out of the car twists into rage. I need to get out of this situation before I slap the smirk right off his face.

  I don’t want to think about Friday night. It seems the rest of the world is hell-bent on making me relive it. Shaun clearly revels in it.

  “Are we done here? Can you move, please? I need to get home,” I tell him.

  “Why the rush, princess? Is this new backbone of yours weighing you down?”

  “My dad is expecting me,” I snap.

  Shaun screws his face up. “Really? From Norway?”

  How the fuck does he know about Norway?

  “Listen. I had a great time on Friday, but you really need to take the hint. I’m not interested. Not now, not ever. Whatever it is you think you’re doing here, it’s pointless. You don’t scare me.”

  He smirks and takes a step towards me, close enough so he has to tilt his head down to look me in the eye.

  “You’re a good liar, princess, but I don’t buy it. I should scare you. Smart girls know when to be scared.”

  I watch him for a moment. Now it’s daylight I can see his features. His eyes are the deepest chocolate color, but there’s little warmth in them. He has a shadow along his jaw that blends into the hair at the sides of his head. If the circumstances were different, I could see myself being desperately attracted to him. Where Liam is sweet and angelic, Shaun is painfully handsome in the opposite way. In a devilish way. And he knows it. He carries himself like a king born to rule. His size alone is enough to intimidate, and even though I’ve just told him he doesn’t scare me, I can’t help but feel weak and insignificant in his presence.

  His step towards me has created a path to my door, but taking it would mean sliding myself across his body. He could stop me easily just by sticking his hand out, but the car park is still busy and there is enough people around that I’m confident even he wouldn’t be so bold. I move closer to him; we lock our eyes, and he flashes his white, perfectly straight teeth.

  “Have you always ran towards danger?” he asks me.

  I move around him, chest to chest, and he turns with me. I’m standing right beside my door now, although his is still open, so I’d have to deal with that if I wanted to open mine. I smell his cologne, the same one from the other night, and I have to fight down the uneasy nerves that are trying to come to the surface.

  “I’ve never had anything to lose.” I shrug.

  He nods once and shuts his car door, leaving me free to open my own. I waste no time in dropping into the drivers seat, although now he’s holding my door open.

  “You have more to lose than you think and believe me when I say, I’ll enjoy taking every piece.”

  “Have fun with that, then,” I snap back at him. My hand reaches out quickly and I pull the door closed, which he releases like it’s burning him. I think I caught him off guard. I’m shaking but I turn the engine on and manage to put the car in reverse, avoiding his eyes on me as I back out of the space.

  I don’t look back.

  Chapter 8

  Shaun

  As much as she tries to hide it, I think I’m getting under her skin. I watched her from my car as she walked across the carpark, books close to her chest, hurried steps, deep in thought. Most girls would have struggled today, but a pampered uppity perfect princess like Lacey? I’m surprised she didn’t die of shame. Today would have been torture for her, although you wouldn’t necessarily know that from the way she was acting.

  I genuinely can’t tell if she is actually brave, or if she just does not understand who I am and what I’m capable of. No one stands up to me. I tell anyone in this school to jump and they ask me how high, and then they offer to change my lightbulbs while they’re up there. It’s the way it has always been, just like it was with my father and his father before. No one gives me attitude like she does. No one would dare. Except, maybe Liam. But he’s different.

  And he’s not half as amusing.

  Lacey acts like she enjoys sparring with me. There’s a glint in her eye, like she knows she’s playing with fire but still wants to reach out and touch it, just to see how much it will burn her. Whatever I say, she has a cutting answer for. I can’t deny I find it appealing. Perhaps in another life I would have chased her for real. I would have played this game with her and seen where it could have taken us, but that’s not the task my father set me. My father told me to break her, to extinguish her spark and make her leave this town. It doesn’t really matter what I think about her.

  I arrive home and my ma is sitting at the kitchen table with a coffee in her hand and an ashtray overflowing with ends in front of her. She’s in her housecoat, probably has been all day, but there are rollers in her hair which is a sure sign my dad’s taking her out tonight.

  “Good day, son?” she asks as I cross the room and head straight for the fridge.

  “Alright, aye. What’s for eating?”

  “Your gran came over with soup earlier, it’s in the tub at the back,” she offers.

  “Soup won’t cut it,” I state, rummaging around and retrieving a tray of roast beef from last night’s dinner. I take it over to the table and sit down beside her while she lights up a cigarette. “Do you mind not doing that? I’m trying to eat here.”

  My mum shrugs and eyes up the tray while she takes a draw. “I was going to make stoavies with that.”

  “Sure you were,” I say cynically.

  She lets my comment slide over her head and changes the subject. “Where’s your sister?”

  “Don’t know.” I shrug. “Not seen her today.”

  “She didn’t come home last night.”

  “Should have told me, I would have sent out the search party.” It’s not unusual for Heather not to come home. She’s a smidge over a year younger than me, and while she technically shouldn’t be out drinking all night, there’s not really anyone who can stop her. My dad is never here and my mum has never been any good at that stuff. Heather is quite sensible though, for the most part, and even if she wasn’t there’s not a soul around here who would touch her anyway.

  “I’m worried about her. She’s been acting strange over the weekend.” She takes another draw of her cigarette and I wave my arm in front of my face to get the smoke away from me.

  “Well if you put that shit-stick out, I’ll attempt to find out where she is for you.”

  She narrows her eyes at me and huffs, but pushes it into the ashtray anyway.

  “There’s a good girl,” I laugh as I whip my phone out. I open up the group chat with Calvin, Doeboy, Scoot and Tony.

  “Anyone seen Heather? She didn’t come home last night, ask around.” I hit send and lock my phone.

  “It’s done,” I tell her. She nods and gets up to leave. “Going out tonight?”

  “Your da’s taking me to The Rhubarb. Well, so he says,” she mutters as she leaves the room, no doubt to get ready. I watch her until she heads up the stairs and I can no longer see her. I remember growing up and thinking that my mum had to be the most beautiful woman in the world. She was like a Hollywood actress; blonde hair, red lips everyday. She’s still beautiful, but my dad has turned her into a shell. This is his way of keeping her sweet. They go out for dinner a couple of times a week, although I don’t see much point in it considering she barely eats now.

  My dad has ruined her.


  My thoughts cross easily to Lacey and I unlock my phone again. Tony has replied confirming he will find out about Heather.

  I phone Scoot and ask him to arrange a little surprise for Lacey in the morning. Strike while the iron is hot, and all that. She’ll regret the day her and daddy dearest ever stepped foot in this town.

  I’m woken up at god knows what time by the sound of banging coming from the hall. I turn over in bed and grab my phone from the side table, checking the time. It’s 02.23, too late for it to be my parents. I get up and rake around on the floor to find my shorts, shove them on and make for the door.

  The hall is pitch dark. Our house sits within a few acres, away from any roads so there’s not even streetlights outside.

  “Heather?” I say into the darkness.

  “What?” She sounds pissed off.

  “Just checking it’s you.”

  She opens the door to her bedroom and switches on the main light, which pours out of the room and illuminates the hall. She stumbles slightly and uses the doorframe in an attempt to hold herself up.

  “You’re pished,” I accuse her.

  She turns around to look at me and I can’t miss her red eyes and the mascara marks that run down her cheeks. “So what?” she spits, doing a half shrug. I cross the hall to her door and shove her in the room.

  “So, mum was worried,” I tell her.

  “Oh, now she’s worried? Did Dad even notice? Did you even notice?” she slurs.

  “For fuck's sake, Heather, you’re sixteen not six!”

  “Don’t you shout at me,” she says as she pushes me off her.

  I’m trying to fucking help her.

  “You need to get out of these clothes and sober up before Dad does notice,” I warn her as I look her up and down. She’s dressed like a common hooker, short skirt and knee-high boots with far too much tit on show. Her dark hair is piled on top of her head in a bun and she looks like she’s been out for days. She slumps down on the edge of her bed and I watch her carefully.

  “Dad doesn’t notice fuck-all,” she says, screwing her face up.

  “Is that what this is about? Daddy doesn’t love me so I’ll go off the rails to get some attention,” I say wryly.

  “Fuck off. You know nothing,” she says with a sniff.

  “Then tell me.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m dealing with it.”

  “What, by staying out all night with god knows who, and getting into states like this,” I nod at her. “Your name protects you but it doesn’t make you fucking untouchable!”

  “You think I don’t know that? Believe me, I fucking know that!” she snaps.

  I sit down on the bed next to her.

  “Did someone touch you? Who touched you?”

  “Shaun, leave it.”

  “You tell me — right now — what’s happened,” I demand, gripping on to her cheeks and turning her face towards me. I’m not normally heavy handed with my sister but she needs to understand that if anyone has laid a finger on her, I’ll go through them.

  “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

  “And I’m telling you it does.” My eyes bore into hers and it’s like looking into my own, except hers are maybe a little warmer. There’s a pain behind them though, a vacancy, like she’s not really seeing me and I don’t fucking like it. “I need a name. Just a name. You don’t need to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” My voice turns softer, and she closes her eyes.

  “It was Liam,” she says.

  I drop her cheek and put my head in my hands. That slimy little rat. How fucking dare he?

  “When?”

  “You said I didn’t need to tell you what happened,” she states.

  “When?” I demand.

  “I went to the party on Friday night. You’d already left.”

  “You’re a fucking idiot. Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have had Doeboy or someone stay with you.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” she snaps.

  I don’t reply. I can’t really think of a coherent response. The little cunt. He watched me walk Lacey out of that party and thought he’d get one back by going after my wee sister. He’s obviously smarter than he looks. I have to admit; I didn’t even consider that was a threat. Didn’t think he had the balls for it. No one else would.

  “Shaun?”

  I stand up from the bed and pause for a minute while I collect my thoughts.

  “Get some clothes on and get to sleep,” I tell her.

  “Shaun? What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing that he doesn’t deserve,” I reply as I walk out of her bedroom door.

  Chapter 9

  Lacey

  I wake up to my alarm and dismiss it from my phone when I notice another message from him. I’ve saved his number now, but maybe I shouldn’t have because my heart sinks when I see his name written across my home screen. Shaun Keagan.

  “Thinking of you, princess.”

  Ugh, sent at 4.52am this morning. I should really block his number but then I wouldn’t know when he finally gets bored and gives up tormenting me. That’s my only hope now, that he gets bored and gives up. I was thinking about him last night when I should have been sleeping. I bet he’d fucking love that, if he knew.

  It’s the not knowing that’s killing me. It’s like an uneasiness that doesn’t leave me alone; it’s there when I wake up, it’s there when I go to sleep. It doesn’t matter if I’m showering, or eating, or when I’m not even thinking about him. He’s still there in the background. And while he’s there, I’m on edge because I know it’s only a matter of time before something else happens.

  I haul my ass out of bed and head for the kettle. When I reach the last few stairs, I hear a noise coming from the kitchen and I freeze. Dad’s not due back until the end of the week. Someone is in my house.

  I creep down the rest of the steps silently. If whoever is here wants to do me harm, then I’d rather not alert them to my presence. If they’re here to rob us, then they’re welcome to it. I wouldn’t stop them. I hear footsteps approach and I think my heart stops beating. I hold my breath. I wish I had a weapon. Maybe I should start carrying a knife in my sock?

  “Lacey?” A woman appears in the kitchen doorway and smiles at me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! It’s just my shift starts at 6am and well, I didn’t want to wake you. I’m Alice.” She must notice the confusion of my face because she adds, “I’m the new housekeeper. Your father hired me, I thought he might have told you?”

  I exhale the breath I’d been holding and try to smile back at her. “He doesn’t tell me much, to be honest.”

  She smiles in that understanding way and I’m certain she must be a mother, or perhaps even a grandmother judging by her age. “Can I fix you some breakfast?”

  “No, it’s okay. That won’t be necessary. I’ve always sorted myself out with stuff like that.”

  “I really don’t mind, come,” she says as she beckons me to follow her into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair at the table and nods for me to sit down, so I do. “Tea? Coffee?”

  “Tea would be lovely, thank you. Just milk,” I tell her, and she nods. I watch her as she goes through the cupboards and drawers like she’s been here forever. I’d estimate she’s in her late fifties or early sixties. She’s quite tall and carries some extra weight on her lower half. Her salt and pepper hair is curled into a low bun and fixed with a clasp.

  “Now what do you normally have to eat in the mornings?” she asks as she puts the cup of tea down on the table in front of me. “I could fix you some toast? Or porridge, if you have the time? Have you tried porridge? Your dad sounded English on the phone?”

  “Oh, I don’t normally eat first thing. I tend to just take something with me and have it at break.”

  “You should eat, dear,” she tells me. There’s that look again. She pulls out the chair opposite to me and sits herself down with her own cup. “Now tell me, are you in some kind of troubl
e?”

  “Huh? No. Why do you ask that?”

  “Oh, I meant nothing by it. It’s just… well… I noticed something was off when I parked outside this morning.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her, my tone filled with alarm. I get up from the table and look outside the window, but everything looks normal. My car is where I left it on the drive, the sun is up, and the street looks the same as it always does.

  She follows me over to the window. “You won’t see it until you go outside, dear. I didn’t know how to say it but…”

  “Say it.” I tell her, my tone firm.

  “Someone has written something on the wall of the house,” she says, her eyes filled with sympathy and concern.

  Are they for real? I storm out of the room and open the front door, not giving a shit that I’m not even dressed yet. I walk down the path backwards and gaze up the house.

  There’s black spray-paint all over the lower level.

  SLAG.

  SLUT.

  WHORE.

  DIRTY.

  Fucking hell.

  I cringe at the thought of the neighbors waking up to see this. I need to do something. This needs to be gone before my dad gets home. Who the hell does that?

  I go back inside and ask Alice if she can arrange to get someone out to clean it. I mean, how do you even remove spray-paint from roughcasting? Thinking I might need a painter too, I ask her if she can at least arrange one as a backup. I’ll worry about how the hell I’m going to pay them later. Somehow I don’t think a couple of grand on “Bankston Decorating Services” will go unnoticed when his credit card statement comes in.

  My thoughts are still reeling as I get myself ready and head to school. I don’t want to go. I don’t think I can face another day like yesterday. I don’t like attention, and between the drama of yesterday and the house I think I’m reaching my limit.

  But something inside me argues that by not going, I’m letting them win. I’m giving him what he wants, even if I don’t really understand why he wants it. I thought this whole thing was about Liam. Taking me from the party, sending around the video of us. All of that pointed to him getting at Liam. But why would he do this? How does this have any affect on Liam?