by A. R. Breck
"Easton?" I whisper, the pain too much and sleep is already starting to consume me again.
"Yeah?" He rasps.
"Thank you."
He says nothing, curling down deeper beside me and the protection that he suddenly makes me feel allows me to drift back into dream land, and this time, with no nightmares. Or memories.
◆◆◆
Waking up a second time in his bed, I feel a little bit more coherent and the pain is a little lighter. Still excruciating, but at least bearable. Running my hand where Easton once lay, I feel cold sheets. I turn over, noticing the rumpled sheets, but no Easton.
I sit up and look around, seeing the small bedroom that is even smaller than mine at the Shack. I thought my bedroom was about to beat some smallest room ever record, but seeing this room blows that right out of the park. I look around and notice it looks like a classic guy room - with its half-naked women on motorcycles and some famous fighters - I'm assuming from MMA. I scooch my way out of bed and grab one of his shirts that is laying against a small chair in the corner of his room.
Slowly sliding it on - I cringe as the fabric slides over each bruise and scratch.
Shit hurts, badly.
Lifting the collar up to my nose, I inhale the perfect, menacing scent of Easton. I'm embarrassed for smelling his clothes like some horny girl. This is so unlike me... but since moving here I guess you could say I'm so unlike me, too.
I walk over to the door and crack it open, peaking at the three guys all sitting on a couch in the living area in what looks to be a serious conversation. I can't hear what they're saying, but by the looks on their faces - it looks to be pretty intense.
I tiptoe out there, not wanting to feel like an intruder but also not wanting to feel like I'm eavesdropping.
Easton is the first to notice me, snapping his head up in surprise and then taking a closer look at me. Once he notices what I'm wearing, he stands up and his eyes heat with a mixture of lust and anger.
Behind him, I see Logan and Jackson look up at me too.
"Look who finally woke from the dead, rich girl. How you feeling?" Logan looks me up and down and lets out a whistle. "Now those are some legs."
I pull my shirt down as far as I can to cover myself. I'm about to respond to Logan when Easton feels the need to butt in.
"Go change." He barks, standing up and blocking me from the guys' gaze.
I place my hands on my hips. "I can't find my clothes."
"I threw them away. Go find something else to put on. Now."
"What the hell do you mean you threw them away? Do you know how much those pants cost? Oh my God!"
He rolls his eyes like I'm being a drama queen, but those pants were - holy shit - expensive.
Now I'm pissed, and feeling a little evil myself. Walking past him, I shrug. "You know what? I'm actually pretty comfortable just like this." I try to walk around him to the couch, but I only make it two steps before I'm hauled up into his arms bridal style and carried back into his room.
"What the hell? Put me down, you fucking beast!" I pull on his ears and his hair. I would hit him, but my wrists and arms hurt too much and I don't want to hurt them more.
My physical attempt at hurting him does not go as planned. He swats my hands away. "What the hell are you doing? God, do you ever listen? Or are you honestly some spoiled rich child who thinks she's entitled to everything?"
My face gets red at his accusation. I'm getting really tired of people calling me rich. If I were rich, I wouldn't be here!
He sets me down on the bed gently - thank God - and turns around and aggressively opens up a drawer, grabbing a pair of sweats and throwing them at my face.
"Put these on. Don't fucking come out there until you have some pants on your damn legs."
He walks towards the door when my anger gets the best of me. "Are you kidding me? I mean, thank you for saving me, twice, no less, but really? You can't just boss me around left and right and honestly believe I'm going to just follow you like some lost puppy. Do people actually bow down to you like some king? Wait, don't answer that. I know they do. But you can't seriously believe that I'm going to. I mean, seriously!" I'm nearly out of breath after my rant, but Easton looks completely unaffected.
"Are you finished?" He drawls.
I clench his pair of sweatpants in my hands, so, so damn angry at his cocky ass. "I'm going home. Can you take me to my car?" I barely wait a second for him to answer before I continue. "You know what? Never mind, I'll walk. Wouldn't want to be indebted to you anymore than I already am." I mumble, shuffling on the sweatpants and then grabbing my purse and phone from the corner of his room.
I try to walk past him but he blocks the doorway with his hand. I try to be quick and slide underneath his arm, but the pain is too much and makes me too slow.
"Stop. I'll take you home." He says. His attitude is gone and in its place is... is that kindness peeking through?
I don't dare read into it, so I nod my head in agreement and follow him out with my face towards the ground.
I hear Easton tell Logan and Jackson that he will be back, and then he places his hand at the small of my back and ushers me out the door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Rose
The daggers of silence last longer than anything ever spoken. ― Shannon L. Alder
The ride back to my house is filled with pure and complete silence. Awkward and thick. The only noise is the rumble of his engine and the occasional mumblings of me giving him directions when he needs to turn.
As he pulls up outside of the Shack, I'm about to walk out and not say a word when he stops me with a hand on my thigh.
"Take some more painkillers, and take it easy. I'm... sorry for what happened to you. Those girls won't bother you anymore."
I glance over at him, surprised at his caring words. I don't say anything, just give him a small nod and hop out of his truck, limping towards my door.
Unlocking the door and stepping inside, I close it and peak out the window, watching as Easton sits in his truck, still looking at my front door. After a moment, he seems to shake out of whatever thoughts he's having and revs his truck, whipping out of my street.
"Where have you been?" I hear from behind me.
Turning around, I show my mom my battle scars and watch as the blood drains from her face. "Oh my goodness, Rose. What in God's name happened to you?" She rushes up to me, putting her hand up to my face but not touching, probably realizing that the pain is as bad as it looks.
"Just getting to know my peers." I sass.
"Don't play games with me, Rose. This looks serious! Do we need to go to the hospital?"
"And add that to our list of ever-growing bills? No, thank you. I'm fine." I grumble as she ushers me over to the living room and pushes me gently down onto the couch.
"What really happened? And who was that boy that dropped you off?"
I sigh, knowing that my pushy mother will never let this go until I reveal at least something. "I don't know, Mom. Some people from school must feel threatened of me or something. A few girls from school cornered me and threw a few punches. It's really nothing. I slept it off and took some pain killers. Now I just have to wait for these ugly bruises to fade." I wave a hand at my face, speaking as if the swelling and bruising is a loose button on my blouse.
"Oh honey, I'm sorry. I knew we should have kept you at Woodbury Prep. Do you want to go back? We can try to find a way to make it work." It's now that I notice she seems relatively sober, and I'm glad. This is the first time in over a month that I haven't been able to smell the scent of booze on her breath.
Thinking about going back to my old school, and possibly being shunned at being the poor girl at the rich school - no, I just can't.
"I'm fine, Mom."
She sighs, not pleased. But at the end of the day, she knows that I'm just about as stubborn as she is.
"Any more of this and I swear I will pull you out of that school. I swear it, Rose. I'm not going
to let some new town and new school completely ruin you."
Ruin me? Excessive, but okay.
"I think I'm going to go lay down in my room. My muscles are feeling pretty sore."
"Okay, honey. Okay. I can make us some dinner, if you'd like?"
I smile and nod, just to get her off my back. "Sure, that's fine."
I start walking away when my mom calls my name. Turning back to her, she asks, "And don't think I didn't catch you evading my question about that boy. Who is he?" She asks, voice stern like an actually involved mother.
I sigh. "He's no one. Just a boy from school."
She narrows her eyes at me, and before she can ask any more questions I walk off to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning on the shower. I slowly peel off Easton's clothes and nearly cry out at the pain. Looking in the mirror, I see the awful, round bruises that cover my back and sides. Some are black while others are already starting to turn a disgusting shade of yellow.
I whimper as I go to poke one. Fuck, that hurts.
Hopping into the shower, I finally let my pain and anger take over and choke out a sob. I bite my hand to stifle the sounds that echo throughout the small bathroom, but it's no use.
The pain is just too much to bear. With each spray of the water that rains down on my battered body, my muscles weep in agony.
◆◆◆
After my shower and a short dinner with my mom, I head back to my room and shut the door. She tried to question me more, but the moment she grabbed for a glass of wine, I knew that her questions were going to become less concerned and more pestering.
She threw back her drinks like they were bottles of water in the Sahara Desert, and the moment I found an opening, I fled to my room to escape her drunkenness.
I'm laying in bed, trying to get comfy but it seems nearly impossible to find a comfortable position. I took some pain killers about an hour ago, and they are only now slowly beginning to kick in.
As I'm on the brink of sleep, I hear a knock at my window that makes me frantically searching for a weapon.
Knock, knock
It comes again. I hesitantly pad over to the window only to see the hulking frame of Easton standing outside my window. I unlock my window and slide the glass up. "What are you doing here?" I whisper.
He doesn't respond, grabbing onto the frame and hefting himself up through my window like he has done this a dozen times.
Standing in my bedroom, he makes the room shrink to about the size of a tin can.
"Easton, what are you doing here?" It's then that I notice him staring down at me with his black eyes.
Looking down, I realize I'm only wearing a tank top – sans bra – and panties. I attempt to cover myself with my arms but he just shoves past me and hops into my bed. I quit fussing with my outfit when I realize he has seen me in less when he undressed me. "Are you going to answer me or just sit there like a mute?"
"Would you just fucking come to bed? It's been a long day and I'm beat. Not in the mood for your bitching." His face is pointed towards the ceiling with his eyes closed, like this is the most normal thing in the world.
I scoff. He just keeps testing me and testing me. "But why would you be coming to my bed instead of your own?"
He scowls at me like I'm stupid for asking the question.
I roll my eyes. "Whatever." Walking over to the other side of the bed, I slide underneath my covers and face away from him. "Easton?"
"What?" He sounds so annoyed with me at this point.
"Thank you for coming over." As much as he is an asshole, I can't deny that his presence makes me feel safe and protected.
He lays down on top of the covers and runs his fingers through my hair. "No worries, Rose."
"Mmm." I mumble, finally comfortable – in his arms, no less. "That feels nice."
"Yeah?" He asks.
"Yeah." His scent quickly fills up my room, and his comforting hand makes me feel drowsy within seconds.
I fall asleep next to Easton the "Reaper" Malone in my room. Happy. Protected.
Who would have ever thought?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Easton
This inhuman place makes human monsters. ― Stephen King, The Shining
I watch as Rose finally finds some rest after shifting positions every ten minutes. It felt like it was going to go on forever, but finally it seemed like exhaustion won when her heavy and steady breathing took over.
I try to tamper down my fury, but the anger that I have inside of me is too much to bear, and I grab onto the corner of her sheets and squeeze them in my fist, only letting go when I start to hear the rip of the expensive threads tearing.
I think back on earlier, and how I was able to find a little bit of retribution for Rose. I don't think that murder would be enough justice, but at least I got my point across.
Hopping into Logan's car, I look over at him. "Did you find out where they are?"
"They're at Tiffany's house." Jackson mumbles from the backseat.
He has been uncharacteristically verbal since Rose got beaten up, and I think she hit a soft spot in him, because his anger is next in line behind mine.
I nod my head, turning back around as my anger starts to come on full force.
I want to fucking wreck these bitches.
Pulling up to the small townhomes in town, we park on the side of the development and I smirk when I see Logan opening his trunk and pulling out a baseball bat. I was going to use my hands, but a baseball bat will also get our point across, I'm sure.
Jackson walks up first and turns the door handle, giving us a nod when it opens with no trouble. We quietly walk in and I can hear the girls upstairs. And what are they doing?
Talking shit about Rose.
Tiffany is cackling as one of the other girls says, "She was such a fucking coward curled up on the floor! Did you see her trembling? She's fucking pathetic!"
I open up the bedroom door and stroll in like I was invited to this shit fest.
Their eyes go wide and they all stand up at once and make a line of pitiful whores. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting? Go ahead, continue." I say, grabbing my knife out of my pocket and flicking the blade open, waving it around in a 'come on' gesture.
"I - I wasn't saying anything." Says the dumb bitch who must have been the one just talking about Rose. I decide to go after her first. Walking up to her, I see her tremble to such an extent I'm almost worried she's seizing.
Oh well, not my problem.
I grab her by her long ponytail and yank her to me with her back aligned with my chest. I put the blade up to her neck and look over at Tiffany. "Punch her or I'll slit her throat."
"Wh-what?! No!" Tiffany cries.
I press the blade deep enough to make the girl cry out but not enough to break the skin.
"Last chance before her filthy blood drips all over your floor. Unless, that is, you want to explain the mess to mommy and daddy?"
"Please, Tiff, please! I don't want to die!" The girl screams.
"Fine!" Tiffany runs over and gives her the most un-punchy punch I've ever seen in my life. Definitely not the treatment Rose got.
"Oh, come on. You can do a little better than that? I mean, Rose got beat till she's black and blue. Don't you think your friend should see what a great fighter you are?"
She looks at me with terror in her eyes before glancing quickly at the door. No luck there, Jackson is leaning up against it looking at his nails like its tea time.
"Three...two..." And bam. The bitch gets socked with a pretty good amount of strength as Tiffany gives it her all just as I'm about to say 'one'.
I let her go and watch as she falls to the ground in a ball of sobs as blood drips from her nose into her palm. I chuckle as I go up to the next girl wrap my hand around her neck as she tries to run away. Squeezing hard enough to cut off her oxygen, I say, "Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast. Come on, Tiffany. I don't have all day."
"I'm supposed to hit all over them?" She shrieks.
&n
bsp; "Well, I mean, do you expect us to? We can, but... you know the guys hitting girls and all that. I'm not really into beating up women. You on the other hand, really have a knack for it. So whadya say, come on slugger."
The girl in my hands I realize is almost passed out from my strong grip, so I loosen up my hold a little bit and listen as she gasps, the oxygen finally going back up to her brain.
Before I can even react, Tiffany hits her next friend with as much force as the previous. This time, I hear a crunch and let out a little cheer and hope that she broke something.
Karma.
One by one, we get through the four girls until it's just Tiffany, cradling her hand like it's sore.
Boo fucking hoo.
Going up to her, I grab her by the neck and throw her down onto the floor, pressing my boot into her chest and leaning over with the tip of my knife pressing into her stomach. "Now, what about you? Your friends are all over there crying like wimps and I don't think any of them have the strength to hit you back."
I pause as she lets out a rather annoying cry and wait until it passes.
"You know - none of your friends would have done anything had you not suggested going after Rose. They follow their leader, and lead you sure did. Now tell me, what do you think it is you deserve?"
I hear a crash behind me and glance up, seeing a sheepish looking Logan. "Whoops. Slippery fingers." He wiggles his fingers holding the bat and I glance over and see her dresser and nightstand, broken into bits.
Shrugging, I glance down at her. "Poor thing, look at you. Crying so hard you look like you're going to pass out." I press the knife further into her stomach, enough to draw blood. I have to hold back from killing the bitch.
I grab her hair and yank her up to standing, and using my blade, start slicing off her hair. It's a sharp as hell blade, but I guess it's not as good as I'd hoped it would be for cutting hair.
Shrugging again, I keep slicing and pulling out her hair as she weeps and cries for help.
Once her hair is as butchered as possible, I nod at Logan who gives her a slam with the bat to her knees, making her cry out and fall to the ground.