With one well-timed, errant elbow, Holly was propelled forward, crashing into the railing. Neither Connor nor I made a sound as we watched the horror unfold around us. Holly went careening down the stairs, knocking others out of her way. No one stopped to help her up. No one attempted to break her fall or check if she was all right. Somehow, she made it to the bottom in a pile of books and limbs. Panting hard, you could see the tears in her eyes as the camera zoomed in on her devastated face. Still the snickers and taunts echoed. Some people called her clumsy. Others a fat cow. Those weren’t the people I was worried about though. How fucking sad was that. Girls, teenage girls, were calling her ugly and a slut and it didn’t unsettle me in the slightest. It was the group of three, all wearing the matching maroon hoodies and black pants moving towards her from all directions that had the blood roaring through my veins and my heart beating out of my chest.
“Tell me this is as bad as it’s going to get?” Connor begged. I knew he was feeling as disgusted as I was right now.
Before I had a chance to answer, the paper bags the hooded army were carrying were torn open and their contents rained down over Holly where she was still slumped on the cold linoleum floor, rubbing her knee and trying not to cry. Pain was written all over her beautiful, scared face for anyone to see. All they had to do was dare to look.
“Is that…? It can’t be. Tell me it’s not…” Connor’s face was ashen. Not that I could blame him. Anyone who’d spent any time on a farm would instantly recognise what had just been dumped all over Holly’s beautiful head. Shit. Bags full of shit. By the looks of it, horse shit, more than likely collected from the school farm, but that wasn’t really the point.
Before I could confirm or deny Connor’s suspicions he went barrelling through the door, crashing into something as he passed before letting out an impressive line of expletives. Not that I could blame him. Picking up my phone from the floor where he’d dropped it, I was disappointed to see the screen still in one piece. What I wouldn’t give right now to see the whole thing shattered.
And like the fucktard I was, I pressed play. I’d come this far, I needed to know how it ended.
One of the hooded bitches bent down and scooped some up before rubbing it in Holly’s hair. I heard a roar and had no idea where it’d come from. So, when it came again, it took a second to put two and two together and realise it was me.
Forcing myself to shut up, I focused on what was in front of me. Holly was sobbing and you could hear her muffled cries as she tried to scramble to her feet, only to have her arms kicked out from under her. These girls were nasty pieces of work. What I wouldn’t give for five minutes alone with them.
“Oh, precious Holly’s crying. Why, Holly? You’re used to playing in shit, aren’t you?” some snide little bitch snickered. Lucky for her she was off camera or I’d be hunting her chickenshit ass down.
“Yeah. Don’t tell me the country bumpkin can’t handle a little shit before lunch?”
“N-n-no.” Holly’s voice cracked and the camera zoomed even closer. Holly’s beautiful eyes were leaking tears like they were a waterfall as she squeezed them shut. She was still sitting on her ass, probably too afraid to try to stand again. As quickly as she could, she scooted back across the concrete floor until her back hit the wall behind her.
My stomach heaved again. This should be over. They’d had their fun. Surely it would end. I found myself praying it would.
The camera panned around, catching the bystanders doing absolutely fucking nothing. There were shitloads of them. Probably two dozen, maybe more. All of them watching on with confusion on their faces. Why weren’t they helping her? Some looked scared, almost like they were glad it was Holly in the middle of this literal shitstorm rather than them. I felt sorry for them. I hated their cowardice, but I understood. Others looked on, amused and entertained. Those bitches I wanted to wipe the smug smirks from their glossy, pouty lips.
“Open up, Holly! It’s time for lunch.”
Two hoods descended on Holly, thankfully blocking out the camera’s view. I didn’t need to see it to know what was happening. With Holly’s frantic pleas to be left alone ringing in my ears, I bolted through the door and vomited all over my boots.
When my stomach was empty, and my mouth tasted like ass, I straightened and put my hands on my head, sucking in deep breaths. Conveniently Holly had left that little gem out of her story.
“Tell me I didn’t just see that?” Connor begged.
I wished that I could. I wished that I could tell him he’d seen it all. Every horrid second. He didn’t. He’d taken off before it got really bad. Smart bastard.
“I’m gonna head off,” I announced, pocketing my phone.
“Yeah, man. No worries.”
Needing a shower and a few minutes to myself, I started across the lawn. I’d only been at the McIntyre place maybe half an hour but it felt like weeks. When I’d arrived I’d already been tired. But now I was absolutely buggered.
I’d almost made it to my ute when I heard Connor calling my name. Spinning around, I saw him standing in the middle of the drive, hands on his hips looking like he’d just been dragged to hell and back. I guess in some ways he had.
“Hey Jack!”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to stop this. This fucking ends now.”
“Count me in,” I agreed without hesitation. How could I hesitate? This is what Holly had been going through alone, and they’d been recorded and were now being sent to my phone, I had no fucking idea who was sending them or worse, who else was seeing them. It was going to stop though.
I don’t remember the drive home. I was completely blinded by the rage and adrenaline pumping through my body. No matter which way I looked at it, I couldn’t even begin to figure out who in their right mind would think that doing this shit was okay. I mean, it wasn’t even funny. Not at all. So why? Why do it? Why would someone go out of their way to hurt and try to destroy another person? I didn’t fucking get it. I doubted I ever would.
It wasn’t until I tripped over the suitcase waiting just inside the door that I even realised I’d made it inside. “What the fuck?” I boomed, booting the suitcase out of my way.
“Jack?” Dad demanded, rounding the corner, cradling a chipped mug in his hands.
Setting the bag back on its wheels, I ran my hands over my face. I was tired. I was hungry, and I was pissed off. Not a good combination. And it was way too early to pretend to be anything else. “Sorry,” I grumbled, pushing past him towards the kitchen.
Snagging a banana that had already seen its best days, I peeled back the skin and took a huge bite, forcing myself not to gag at the squishy over-ripeness. I wasn’t a huge banana fan, but right now it was the quickest thing I could get my hands on.
“Everything okay?”
For a brief second, I thought about lying. It would be so easy to just tell Dad everything was fine. That nothing was bothering me. I could have done it, but then he wouldn’t be able to help me. He wouldn’t be able to tell me what to do. He wouldn’t be able to fix it. “Not really.” I thought I’d feel humiliated as I confessed, instead I felt lighter. Like somehow the problems staring me in the face weren’t as bad as they seemed. The impossible seemed possible. It must have been some weird ass voodoo magic, because Dad hadn’t said a word yet already I felt better.
“Has this got anything to do with that McIntyre girl who snuck out of here in the early hours of the morning?”
“You saw her?” All I could see was fucking red. If Dad saw Holly leaving and he let her go, I’d kill him. Anything could have happened to her and if he let it, I couldn’t be held responsible for would come next.
Shaking his head, he tipped the remaining contents of his cup down the sink and rinsed it. Asshole was stalling. At least that’s what it felt like. “No. Adrian called about an hour ago and asked me about her. She’s a lot of trouble, that one.”
Dad’s words were like a warning. One I knew I needed to hear, but i
t wouldn’t make one ounce of difference, either. I was already in way too deep to be able to walk away. Not now. Needing to change the subject, or punch the shit out of something, I addressed the elephant in the room. “What’s with the suitcase?”
“I’m going to go get your mother.”
“Go get her?”
“Yeah. It’s about time she brought her skinny ass home and fixed this family. She’s had her fun.”
Oh shit! Was he really that delusional to think this would be a good idea? Not once in as long as I could remember did Mum take being bossed around well. In fact, you’d tell her the sky was blue and she’d say it was pink just for the sake of an argument. Surely, after more than twenty years together, Dad hadn’t forgotten about her stubborn streak.
“Are you sure…” All I could picture were the fights. The arguments. All the broken dishes hurled across the room. All the angry, hate-filled, hurtful words volleyed back and forth like bombs. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mum, and more than anything I wished she were here, but having her gone, well, it hadn’t been all bad either. For starters, I’d spent more nights asleep in my own bed in a row since she’d left than I had in the past six months.
“Jack, I know it was pretty shitty before she left, but we’ve been talking…”
“You have?” I couldn’t mask my shock. Dad never used a phone. I can’t remember the last time I’d called him and it actually worked though. His battery was forever dead. So the whole idea he’d actually been talking to Mum, who was currently, at least according to a text update she found the time to send, sunning herself on the beaches of Nice, was more than a little odd.
“Yes, Jack, we have. I’m going to France to spend some time with her. We’ll be back in three weeks. Both of us. You think you’ll be okay on your own until then?”
Still in shock, I barely nodded. My tight ass father, the one who had the money to travel the world a dozen times over, but preferred to stay within driving range, was about to take a three week vacation to the other side of the world. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole.
I watched as Dad glanced down at his gold wrist watch. It was one Pop had given him for his twenty-first birthday. One I knew I’d inherit on mine. Dad never wore it, though. Not even for special occasions. Instead it stayed safe in its black velvet box in the hall drawer. Yet there it was wrapped around his wrist. Things were definitely changing around here.
“Well, I better head out.”
Dropping the half-eaten banana in the garbage, I followed along like a lost puppy as Dad grabbed his hat from the hook beside the door and settled it on his head. Without a word, I picked up his suitcase and followed him outside. Today was a shitty day. The wind was picking up, and above my head, the dark, daunting clouds were rolling in. I wouldn’t be surprised if the rain arrived within the hour.
After putting the overstuffed suitcase on the backseat, I dug my hands in my pockets, not sure what to say next. Yep, I was a big boy. Yep, I was quite capable of looking after myself. Did that mean I wanted to? Fuck no. Deep down I knew that Dad was doing what he had to, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.
Hating my selfishness, I shuffled back as Dad’s heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder. After barking out one last round of instructions, he was in the car and driving away. I wasn’t change averse, not really, but some days, ones like today, I wish the change would just slow down a little. Just give me a chance to catch my breath.
When the first fat rain drop hit my cheek I headed back inside. Although I was starving, my stomach growling painfully, I bypassed the kitchen and headed upstairs. The moment I kicked open my bedroom door, I could smell Holly in here. My room no longer smelt like boy—ass and dirty socks. Somehow it smelt fresh. Toeing off my heavy boots, I stripped down to my boxers and slipped under the covers, burying my head. Everything would look better after a couple of hours of shut eye. At least I hoped it would.
***
I was wrong. Very fucking wrong.
When I woke up I had a migraine. I was still tired, and every joint in my body protested when I tried to move. Rolling my neck from side to side, I heard the cracks barely seconds before the pain came. I’m sure I howled, there was just no one there to hear me. No one there to care. I’d spent a lot of time on my own, and I mean a lot, but not once did I feel as alone as I did right now. Tossing my legs over the side of my bed, I shuffled towards the bathroom, hoping the hot water would make it all better.
After a shower, a huge plate of toast, cheesy scrambled eggs, and a couple of aspirin, I laid on the couch and clicked on the TV. Ignoring the storm raging beyond the windows and the wind which was rattling the glass, I found some old movie with Clint Eastwood and hunkered down.
When I woke again, the credits were rolling, and my phone was ringing. Checking the time on the annoying ass clock on the wall, it was one of those ones that ticked every second, making you feel it all through your entire body, I was surprised to see it was after four. I’d achieved absolutely nothing today. Granted, the way I was feeling, there wasn’t much I was going to attempt, yet my greatest accomplishment was I hadn’t burnt the house down when I’d made myself some food.
The phone rang again and I realised I had a choice. I could drag my lazy ass up off the lounge and find it, or let it ring. Closing my eyes, I willed the noise to stop. The shrill wasn’t helping me at all. The migraine may have eased, but the lingering headache hadn’t. Not really interested in re-joining the real world just yet, I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, one of those ugly crocheted ones grandmas make and sell at the markets, and wrapped it around me. My toes were freezing. All I could think about was a pair of socks, but going all the way upstairs just seemed like a hell of a lot of effort. Instead, I grabbed the remote and started clicking around. Finally landing on a replay of a football game, I dropped my head back and allowed myself a moment to just…be.
“Jack! Jack! You in there?”
Slowly I sat up. The banging, wherever the fuck it was coming from, felt like it was directly on my skull. Around me, everything was dark except for the glow from the TV. Squeezing my eyes open and shut a few times, I waited for the blurriness to pass. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep again. It wasn’t like me to sleep this much. Maybe I was sick.
“Jack?” The nasally, whiny voice came again.
Kicking off the blanket, I shivered as my feet touched the cold tiles. Clicking on a lamp, I wished I’d turned on the heater earlier. As beautiful and old as this house was, when the winter winds arrived, it was like living in an ice box. As I rubbed my hands up and down my bare arms, I scurried towards the door. Turning on the light outside, I yanked open the door, only to come face to face with a nightmare.
Caitlyn and Amber stood there wearing matching scheming expressions. Their too short skirts were creased and crinkled. Their white button-down shirts were so wet they were completely see through, and both wore white, barely-there lacy bras, although Caitlyn filled hers out much better than Amber. I was a dude and I liked boobs. And they were right there. Staring at me. Begging me to ogle them. So, ogle I did. Dragging my eyes away from their pointed nipples, I looked at their faces. Wincing, I wished I hadn’t. There was a definite look of mischief and sneakiness there. Their usually perfectly styled hair was wet and tousled, while their thick, caked-on makeup ran down their faces. But that wasn’t what made me feel sorry for them. If anything, all that did was repulse me further. It was the way Amber cocked her hip and the way Caitlyn toyed with the chain dangling perilously close to her cleavage. I felt sorry for them because right now, the two girls dripping on my porch thought they were acting and looking sexy, but all I could see was a pair of drowned rats. The more they flashed that fake, coy smile, the more I wanted to look away.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out, my migraine coming back with a vengeance.
Amber’s lip quivered. Caitlyn pushed her chest out even further and stepped forward. “You weren’
t at school today. We were worried.”
I wanted to call bullshit. I had days off all the time and no one batted an eyelid. “You were worried?” I asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow.
While Caitlyn nodded, sticking to her lie, Amber shivered. I wanted to be an asshole, mainly because I really didn’t want to deal with them right now. Looking over their shoulder, I looked for a car. I didn’t live close to town or to either of them, so I was more than a little curious to see how they’d gotten themselves all the way out here. Yet there wasn’t a car in sight. When Amber coughed, a deep barking cough, I knew I couldn’t leave them out here like this, despite how much I wanted to.
“Come on inside. I’ll grab you some towels.”
Stepping aside, I let them into my home. It felt awkward and off, and I found myself wishing someone else was home. The last thing I wanted was to be alone in the house with these two. Who knew what kinda bullshit they’d try and pull. I for one did not want to be a participant in any of their games.
Leaving them standing in the entry, I clicked on the heating as I passed the control panel and headed straight for the laundry. Upstairs we had good towels, those really thick, soft, huge ones that wrapped around you like a sheet. I wasn’t sharing them. Instead I grabbed some old beach towels, ones reserved for our adventures down to the river when we went skiing. That’d do. The last thing I needed right now was for them to feel comfortable. The sooner they were dried and out of here, the better.
Hurrying back out to where I’d left them, I was shocked to only see Amber still there shivering. Handing her a towel, I watched as she wrapped it around herself, trying to warm up.
Fighting Back (Meet the McIntyres Book 3) Page 19