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

by Esme Devlin

  “Jim!” I hear my ma screeching behind us. “Jim, please,” she begs.

  I scoot forward on the tiles between thumps and flip myself over. He’s on me in a second, but now I can see what he’s doing it is easier to anticipate and block him as he swings. She’s screaming behind him, going ballistic like a fucking banshee on speed and I want to tell her to shut up, so I can focus on not reacting. On keeping from snapping. He’ll tire soon. He’s not got the stamina anymore.

  But she doesn’t leave it. She grabs his arm. She grabs his arm, and he turns and looks at her, swinging his arm back as if I’m just an annoyance, and she is the goal.

  Fuck's sake.

  I try to jump up, blood pishing out from my nose and my vision blurry, and stop his hand before he does something in a rage that he’ll regret in the morning. I try to, but I’m not fast enough. His fist slams down and cracks me right on my brow bone. Pain explodes inside my brain and the world goes dark at the edges.

  I stumble.

  She screams.

  I fall.

  And then none of it even matters anymore.

  ❖

  I wake up some time later and I have no fucking idea how long I’ve been out. It’s dark, and the floor is cold and hard. Too hard, like concrete. I take a moment, but when I come to my senses, I realize I’m in the basement.

  It’s been years since the old cunt has done this.

  And I still remember it like it was yesterday.

  I push myself up off the floor and stumble a bit, but manage to keep my balance. The blood from my nose has gone hard, and it’s sticking to my cheeks, making my face feel all stiff. My head is pounding; he got me a fucker with that last one. I didn’t have time to block it at all… I was only thinking about my mum. He probably knew that, though. Probably planned for that to happen.

  I feel around in the dark for something familiar, and my hands reach cold metal bars that I know from memory belong to racking shelves. I follow them to the end where an old broken chest freezer sits and use it as a seat while I wait for him to calm down. I try to think back to the longest he’s ever kept me down here. I don’t think it was more than a full day and night. My mum would always be too scared to let me out, but she’d make sure the second he left the house to come down and slip me a packet of biscuits or something.

  I used to just sit on this freezer and think about shit, similar to what I’m doing now.

  What did I think about then? I try to remember. Probably my friends. I’ve known the four of them since we were babies, what with our dads all being in the same circles. I’d cook up things for us to do, places to explore, trouble to make, all while sitting on this freezer. I wanted to be a boxer then, best fucking boxer the world had ever seen. I snort at myself, that didn’t work out so well, did it? I remember even though I hated him, my dad, I didn’t have this urge to turn out nothing like him. You hear about that, people with arseholes for parents who swear they’ll never grow up to be like them. I didn’t. It was just expected I’d grow up to be like him. I’d take over, just as the rest of my friends would.

  And it’s still expected now.

  That’s the thing with my dad and his friends. You don’t just walk away. You’re either in, or you’re destroyed.

  Which leads me on to the current mess I’m in. I knew I was playing with fire getting involved with her, but I couldn’t fucking help myself. And now I have two choices. I can let her go, or I can fight.

  The problem is, I don’t know who to fight first. And I don’t know how to fight them. I thought I was fighting Liam by being with her, by making her see that maybe, just maybe there might be something deep inside me worth liking. If she’s thinking like that, then she’s not going to entertain any fucked up notions of marrying Liam, is she?

  But by beating Liam, I’m directly disobeying my father’s orders and so far, all that’s achieved is a bloody nose, a cracked socket, and a night in the fucking basement. I can’t beat Liam without disobeying my father.

  I need to convince him that there is another way. I sit on my chest freezer and think, as the time drags by.

  Finally, when my back is aching from leaning against the hard wall and I feel like I might die if I don’t get my fucking dinner, I come up with some semblance of a plan. I just need to get Doeboy to clear it with his dad first. I’ll need a shit hot accountant and a rat in Lacey’s house.

  Luckily, I already have one.

  I hear a tinkling sound above my head and then the fluorescent light flickers a few times before it finally switches on. I close my eyes as the light blinds them and hear the turn of the lock at the top of the stairs. Blinking my eyes a few times, I jump off the freezer and walk around the shelves to see my gran coming down the stairs.

  “Gran?”

  “Your mum text, told me what happened. Christ boy, look at the state of you,” she says, tutting and taking my cheek in her hand. My gran is a lovely wee woman with a heart of gold and eyes that can’t hide her emotion. I sometimes wonder how a man like my dad could have come from a woman like her.

  “Probably looks worse than it feels,” I shrug. “Where’s Da?”

  “Took your mum out. Come on, come ben the kitchen and we’ll get you all cleaned up.” She turns and makes her way up the stairs. “I brought a tub of stew over for you, figured you’d be needing it.”

  “You’re a wee angel, gran,” I tell her as I follow her up the stairs. “What time is it?”

  “Just gone midnight. I’ll be having words with yer dad tomorrow, bloody fool, getting me out of bed at this time over a wee feckin’ lassie.”

  Midnight? I’d expected it to be at least four in the morning. Maybe I can still salvage this shit-show if I get my arse into gear now. “Sorry Gran, I need to go. I was supposed to be somewhere hours ago.”

  “You can’t go out looking like that, you’ll scare the dead looking like that,” she says, huffing and running a cloth under the tap. “Come here while I get you cleaned up.”

  Chapter 19

  Lacey

  It’s five minutes past seven and I wonder if it’s too soon to text him. Last night, he showed up fifteen minutes early and said he hated being late. And now, twenty-four hours later, he’s late.

  I’m ready, have been for a while, so I go down the stairs and wait for him in the living room. I mess around on my phone while flicking through the channels on the TV, trying not to look at the clock.

  By 7.32pm, I’m thinking it’s an acceptable time to text and ask him where the fuck he is. I send it and lock my phone, putting it down on the sofa beside me while another episode of ‘Police Interceptors’ starts. I wouldn’t go out of my way to watch it, but then again it’s not the worst way to spend a half-hour of being stood up.

  After everything that’s happened, you’d think if he was really trying to prove he wasn’t a prick, he’d at least have the good sense to text me and tell me he was going to be late.

  Not Shaun, though.

  At 8.15pm, I pause the TV in the middle of a high-speed chase and go up the stairs to get changed into my pajamas. To say I’m disappointed would be an exaggeration. I didn’t really have high hopes for him, anyway. I mean, it wasn’t so long ago I hated everything about him. And while some parts of him have grown on me, there is still a lot there to hate.

  Like the fact he manipulated this date out of me. Or should I say yesterday's date — which he retrospectively decided didn’t count. He’s manipulated pretty much every bit of contact we’ve had, and while a certain amount of male-dominance is attractive, it’s a fine fucking line.

  He was a tempting fantasy. It’s every girl's dream really, isn’t it? The bad boy who doesn’t know how to love, until he meets that one special girl who makes him whole again. Except, I’m not the special girl. I’m just me, plain boring Lacey Tyler. And that’s okay. Just as long as he doesn’t go back to trying to ruin my life again, we can go our separate ways. I can have my thoughts back. I can get him out of my head. I can forget about what
he did to me, all the bad stuff. I can move on from it.

  I come back down the stairs and notice my phone on the couch, lighting up and buzzing. Even though I’ve just given myself the pep talk, I still can’t help going straight for it to read what his excuse is.

  Except it’s not Shaun, it’s an unknown number. I slide the text open and get a shock at the long wall of text that appears.

  It’s Rosheen. I know you don’t want to hear this, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore. You might think I’m a bitch, and I have been a bitch to you, but I do actually try to abide by girl code and since no one else has the balls to tell you, I will.

  Shaun is playing you. He’s getting inside your head so he can rip the rug from under your feet. His dad and Liam’s dad are bitter enemies, and Shaun’s dad ordered him to destroy you and run you out of town, because your dad is here to work for Liam. Think about it, think about everything he did to you. You’re stronger than he anticipated and now he’s changing tact. Now he’s being nice because he’s going to break your heart. He’s going to chew you up and spit you out so you will leave and take your dad with you. I’m sorry, but it’s always been me. We’ve been a thing since I turned 13. We were trying for a baby until you showed up. I’d rather you hate me than not understand.

  My phone buzzes again, twice, and two photos pop up on the screen. The first one is Shaun and Rosheen, although she is barely recognizable without the makeup. Her hair is highlighted blonde and you can hardly see her eyebrows in the photo. They’re young, really young, possibility 13 like she said. It’s nighttime, clearly this was before decent cameras existed on phones because the flash has turned their faces ghostly pale. They’re sitting on grass. Shaun has a can of beer in his hand, and she’s wearing a hoody that I’m assuming is his. They’re sitting side by side and she’s leaning into him, smiling for the photo.

  I look at the next one. This is more recent — she’s got a set of fucking bear ears filtered on the photo — her hair is black and her eyebrows are thick and dark. She’s lying in bed, with the covers wrapped around her chest and his head rests on it. You can see his naked back on the picture and her hand, complete with long acrylic nails, strokes his cheek. She’s pouting at the camera.

  I feel numb.

  I don't want to believe her, but it sounds pretty fucking convincing. I’ve always thought there was more to the way he treated me than the fact that he disliked Liam, and Liam liked me. I just didn't know what it was.

  Well now I do know. He wants me gone. He wants my dad gone. When his little games and his torment didn't work on me, he decided to do one better. He decided to break my heart.

  I have news for him. You can't win when your opponent has nothing to lose. You can't break a heart unless your opponent gives it to you.

  Fuck him!!

  I come out of her message and open my contacts list, scrolling down until I see Shaun Keagan. I half think about typing out a cutthroat message to him, describing exactly what I think of him and his actions, in great detail. But I won't do that. I won't give him the satisfaction of thinking I care.

  I block his number — something I should have done ages ago — and throw my phone down on the sofa. Then I head to the kitchen and pull out a tub of cookie dough ice cream, which I devour while I watch criminals flee from the police. When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll feel better. Well, I hope so anyway. I don't know if this means he’ll revert to the bullying of Plan A, or even ramp up the ruining of my life now that heartbreak Plan B will fail too, but I’ll just have to take that as it comes.

  ❖

  I’m lying in bed some hours later, drifting off to sleep when I hear the door open in my bedroom. I turn around and scramble to sit up. I didn’t hear anyone come in.

  The lamp at the side of my bed goes on and I don’t even need to wait for my eyes to adjust. I already know who it is. There’s only one person who thinks it’s acceptable to break into someone's house and sneak into their bedroom.

  “Get the fuck out of my house,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head before I’ve even finished my sentence. I look at him and notice his eye is cut open. “Lacey, please. Just listen to me for a second. I can explain.”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Shaun.” I spit his name out like it’s venom on my tongue.

  “You will want to hear it, it’s important,” he argues.

  “More of your lies? No, thank you. I’m fine. Your little plan to seduce me didn’t work. I don’t give a fuck about you, and I’m seriously not interested in what you have to say.” I lie back down in bed and pull the covers close around me. This is a risk, of course. Every muscle in my body is screaming for me to sit up, and get into a defensive position. He’s taken what he wanted once before and has the strength to do it again if he wanted to. But I won’t cower before him. He needs to know I’m not scared of him, because he feeds on that.

  “My little plan to seduce you? What are you talking about? Who the fuck have you been speaking to?” He takes a step closer to the bed and I stare at him, eyes filled with hatred.

  “Rosheen filled me in on your schemes. How you set out to ruin my life, because you want rid of my father, how when your plan didn’t work you thought you’d break my heart instead, how you’ve been with her for five fucking years, how you were trying for a baby with her. All of it. So there’s nothing for you to explain. You can just leave now. Goodbye.” I tell him.

  “Fucking hell, Lacey. You’re seriously going to believe her? She’s twisted with jealousy,” he says.

  “Well, what she says makes a lot more sense than half of the shit that comes out of your mouth,” I snap back.

  “What she says is lies! The part about wanting you and your father gone is true, but that's it. And none of that was my idea; it was my father who told me to do it. You don’t go against what my father wants. I tried it tonight and look at my face,” he says.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? You only did what you did because your family hated me? Oh well, that’s fine then. I take it all back. Let's be in love and live happily ever after, shall we?” I sit up in bed, it’s hard to stay lying down and acting like you don’t care, when you do. What the fuck does he want from me?

  “I’m not asking you to be in love with me right now. Hell, I’m not even asking you to like me right now. All I’m asking for is a chance.” His face softens and his tone lightens, but I’m determined not to fall for it.

  He’s a master manipulator.

  “Why? What is it about me that makes you want a chance so desperately?” I ask him.

  He pauses for ages, just looking at me. He pauses so long that I think I was right all along, he’s lying. There’s nothing about me he wants; there’s nothing that actually makes me special. “Thought as much,” I continue. “Why don’t you run along now, back to Rosheen. Leave me alone.”

  “Listen Lacey, I could lie to you right now and list off a hundred shitty reasons about why I like you. I could tell you you’re beautiful, smart, funny, that your eyes shine like diamonds and your hair glows like the sun. I could lie and tell you all of those things make you special. I could list them all, quick fire, rapid succession, and I could do it all night. But the real answer, the truth? That’s harder to explain. It’s hard because sometimes I don’t even fucking know myself.”

  His hand goes to the back of his neck and he turns around, giving me his back. I watch him as he moves, shifting, like he’s nervous. Like he’s having to think about what he’s going to say.

  “I know that we’re the same, though. I know we both live a life where it’s easier to not give two fucks than it is to risk getting hurt. I know you take my shit and you throw it right back in my face, and I know that’s not always a good thing, but it’s necessary. I know it’s not going to be easy with us and that is a good thing. I know you won’t let me walk all over you. I know I’ll enjoy trying to, anyway. I know that one day, if anyone will ever have any sort of power
over me, it will be you.”

  He turns back around and looks at me while I sit there, my mouth open, trying to process everything he’s saying.

  “And I know that somewhere, deep down, you like the thought of that. You don’t need money, and you don’t need company. But you need someone who cares enough to want you, even when you tell them to stop.” He walks over to the bed and stands in front of me. “Even when you tell me that you don’t want it.”

  I look into his eyes, studying them. So fucking dark. He takes my chin in his hands and looks me in the eye, and my breath catches in my throat. “I’ll always give you what you need, Lace, even if it’s not what you want. Even if you hate me for it. I’m not scared of you hating me.”

  I try to process what he’s saying while he watches me, and my thoughts are a jumbled mess. Maybe a part of me wants to believe him, and is even enamored by his words. But the rest of me is scared, and I’ve tried so fucking hard to not fear him. Even when he was at his worst.

  Letting someone have that much power over you, letting someone decide what you need and what you don’t, that takes trust. That takes more than trust. Even if I wanted to trust him, I don’t know how to. I’ve never trusted anyone in my life.

  He takes my hand and pulls me up on my feet. I stumble forward and slam into his chest, and his arms close in around me, and all I can think about is how it feels more like a cage than a comfort.

  “I don’t trust you,” I tell him, my face pressed hard against his chest.

  “You will. You’ll see I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, ever. I’ll deal with my dad. I’ll deal with Rosheen. I’ll deal with all of it, and I’ll show you I’m worth trusting,” he says, his chin resting on my head and talking into my hair.

  I don’t reply to that. What would I even say? I don’t believe you? He’d just argue more. And what’s the point. This is fucked up, and I can’t think straight when he’s around me.