Revenge at Raleigh High

by Hart, Callie

  Jake wants to taste my fear. I refused to give it to him when he roughly threw my legs open and thrust himself inside me at that party, and he hasn’t been able to swallow the fact that I defied and denied him ever since. He thinks that tonight, that wrong will be righted. He’s bigger than me. Stronger. He thinks he’ll be able to hold the threat of more pain over me until I crack and supply the fuel that he’s been craving for months now. But he’s wrong.

  If I die tonight, then let the act be naught but ash and death on your tongue. Let my steel cut you to the quick, even as I fade…

  Am I afraid of dying? Yes. A thousand times, yes. But more than that, I regret not getting to see what comes next. All the places I haven’t explored. All of the life events I won’t experience. I’ll never know the kind of person Max becomes. I’ll never know if my parents find happiness again. And Alex…Alex will go on and live without me. Once all of the hurt and the anger subsides, and the world no longer feels like it’s crumbling down around him, there’ll come a day when he wakes up and the pain feels just that little bit less. Someday, some girl will come along, who makes him feel the way I make him feel, and that…god, it hurts more than I can bear, but it’s a good thing. He deserves to be happy, after all the shit he’s been through. So I can do this. I can get through the next few hours with Jacob Weaving, and I can make sure he never gets what he wants from me. He’s going to rot in prison for what he’s about to do. He’s going to spend those long days and even longer nights trapped behind the bars of his cell, having never won his victory over me.

  Fuck. Him.

  Jake’s lips peel back, exposing his perfect, twenty-thousand-dollar teeth. My defiance is getting under his skin. He fists my hair, getting to his feet, and I have no choice but to follow along with him, biting back a cry as I struggle to stand. Before he knocked me unconscious, he hit me. He wound his arm back and he hit me, giving each swing everything he had. He knocked me off my feet, only to lift me back up so he could knock me down again, and when he finally left me on the ground, disoriented and bleeding, he laid into my ribs with his boots. He kicked until the both of us felt my bones splinter, and then he kicked me some more. I’ve never known pain like this before.

  My head swims, my vision warping, darkness pressing down on me, trying to force back down to the ground. God, I’m going to throw up. My stomach squeezes, nausea rolling over me like a wave, but I clamp my mouth shut, drawing a deep breath in through my nose. Expanding my ribs is agony, but the extra oxygen helps me stop myself from retching. My vision stabilizes, but I’m so damn weak.

  “I know what you did to Sam’s headstone.” Jake leans down, spitting the words viciously into my face. “Shouldn’t have done that. He was a fucking moron most of the time, but he was one of my best friends. Now people are whispering behind my back, giving me dirty looks. They’re wondering, and I can’t have that. It’s only a matter of time before the busy bodies in this Podunk fucking town start asking questions.

  “He told me you did your best to clean yourself up after we were done with you that night. He stood outside the bathroom door and listened to you sobbing like a little bitch in the shower. I was almost sad I didn’t hang back to hear it. That kind of abject misery is fascinating to me.” He leans even closer—so close that his lips brush against my cheek as he pours his vitriol into my ear. “You were right. My dick really only does get hard when other people are suffering. I know that’s messed up. I know that’s not normal, but hey. Telling the truth can be cathartic, right? It can be healing.”

  God, he’s such a fucking joke. I give up trying to pull my head free, letting myself fall limp. “Don’t play games, Jake. You don’t care about healing. You like yourself just the way you are.”

  His wide grin reminds me of a shark, opening its maw to expose its teeth just before it bites. “Looks like you know me well, Second Place. Come on, now. I figured we’d go and take a shower together. For old times’ sake.”

  * * *

  I fight. I fight like I’ve never fought before. I kick and scream, lashing out with as much fury as I can muster as Jake drags me through the boys’ locker rooms toward the showers. In the end, all of the thrashing and hollering is futile. Jake knows I’ll take an opportunity I get to slip free from him and do him some damage. I taught him that in the hallway, when I climbed on top of him and laid into him with my fists. He’s not taking any chances now. He holds me close to his body, pinning me to his side, which makes it impossible to gain any momentum to hit or land a proper kick.

  The harder I struggle, the harder he laughs.

  “That’s it, Parisi. Let it aaaaall out. Scream at the top of those whore lungs. Doesn’t make any difference. No one’s gonna hear you. No one’s gonna find you. This place is gonna be deserted until Monday morning. And then? The janitor’s gonna find himself a nasty surprise when he unlocks the place, that’s for sure.”

  The boys’ showers are a mirror to the girls’ showers, except the smell is much worse—damp and mildew, punctuated with the overripe tang of adolescent male sweat. My cries echo off the tiled walls. My numb, bare feet can’t make purchase as Jake hauls me toward the bank of showers, still laughing under his breath. Moonlight pours in through the strip of narrow windows at the top of the walls. I can see the night sky through the glass, a scattering of stars burning brightly in the midnight blue.

  My pulse is racing out of control. It’s freezing inside the shower room, but it gets infinitely colder when Jake fumbles for a shower handle, and a jet of frigid, icy water pelts down on me. The temperature is so shocking that I let out a strangled, frightened gasp.

  I’m drenched in seconds. Jake is too, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  “Darhower insisted we get some hot water in here, but Coach Quentin’s a hard ass. He thinks making us shower in cold water will toughen us up. Make us real men. What do you reckon, Parisi? No fun, huh?”

  I strain away from the water, but Jake has me by the back of the head. He forces me into the torrent, angling my face so that the cold, stinging beads of water drive into my eyes, nose and mouth. It’s hard to breathe. Impossible, almost. I cough and splutter, attempting to drag in a sip of air any way I can, and Jake doesn’t let up. He croons like a madman, imparting the most vile, hateful things into my ear. Eventually, just as I’m about to pass out, he jerks me out of the stream of water and shoves me, sending me crashing into the wall.

  I land in a heap on the dirty tile. My clothes cling to my broken, stinging skin, the water still pouring down on me. Jake stands back, placing his hands on his hips. He’s breathing hard, his shoulders hitching up and down. Using the back of his hand, he wipes his nose, then clears his throat. “All right, Parisi. Get undressed.”

  I stare up at him dumbly. He wants me to get undressed? Strip for him? Stupefied laughter bubbles up the back of my throat. “You…you can’t be serious. No fucking way. I’m not…I’m not getting undressed.”

  Malice flashes in Jake’s eyes. “I’m not asking, you stupid cunt. That was an order. Get on your feet and take off your fucking clothes. You wanted to be a Siren again, so here. I’m making you one.” I haven’t noticed the clothing hanging from the hook by the door. Jake snatches it up, throwing the fabric down onto the floor, just beyond the gathering pool of water.

  It’s a Raleigh High cheerleading uniform. How nice of him to try and keep it dry for me.

  “No.” If he thinks I’m going to help him fulfill some sort of sick fantasy, then he is out of his ever-loving mind.

  Jake digs his teeth into his bottom lip, scraping it through his teeth. The front of his t-shirt is plastered to his skin, his jeans so dark with water that they look almost black. “Don’t you think I could make you, Silver? Don’t you think I’d enjoy stripping you naked? You remember the last time?”

  I was wearing a dress at Leon Wickman’s party. It was easy for him to relieve me of it. Now I’m wearing my space pajamas, and he’s going to have to fucking fight me for them. “Why the hell would you
want to watch me change anyway?” I lean to one side, nearly toppling over, and a spasm of pain fires through my ribs. Shiiiiiit. I taste blood again. “You think it matters to me anymore if you see me naked? You’ve already seen everything there is to see. I haven’t grown another pair of tits since the last time.”

  “I couldn’t give a shit about your body. I. Am. Going. To. Burn. Your. Clothes.” He says the last part slowly, enunciating every word as if I’m too stupid to comprehend what he’s saying. “My blood’s all over them, too. Why make forensics’ job easier for them.”

  Another burst of laughter rattles out from deep within my broken-ribbed chest. “Jake, I called 911 back at the house. I gave them your name. I’ve got half your skin under my finger nails. Your hair’s probably all over me. Your hands are gonna match the bruises you’ve planted all over my skin. Nothing you do will separate you from this. You’re fucked.”

  Jake’s nostrils flare. “You think you’re so fucking smart. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this all taken care of. By the time I leave tonight, it’ll be like I was never here. My father won’t let Sheriff Hainsworth anywhere near me once your body’s found. He’ll have me relaxing, safe and sound behind so much red tape, it’ll take five years to get through all the paperwork required to even fucking interview me. By then, everyone will have forgotten you even fucking existed. It’s gonna be fucking beautiful.”

  I’ve been skating on the surface of a black mirror, hovering above reality, not really here, trying to think of a way out of this nightmare, waiting, hoping against hope and my better judgement that someone is going to show up and save me, but this brings me crashing back into the moment.

  Forget me?

  Forget I even fucking existed?

  Something about that rings true. People like Mallory Hawkins are still stalking through town, demanding to have Leon Wickman’s body exhumed and unceremoniously tossed into a landfill, but the rest of the people in Raleigh? The shops, the elementary school, the bars and restaurants…they’re all open and operating like it’s business as usual. How easily people have already moved on from such a horrific, monstrous event. Eighteen people died at Raleigh High the day Leon turned his gun on everyone…and that was only six weeks ago. I’m just one more meaningless student at Raleigh High. One. How long will people mourn me before it’s back to the status quo? A few days? A week at the most.

  I don’t want to be forgotten.

  I don’t want to think about what Jake plans on doing with my body after he’s silenced me. I don’t want Alex to grieve over me, only to recover and move on with someone else down the line. It turns out I’m too selfish, after all. I want what’s owed to me. I want my fucking life.

  The cold water splashes down, mostly hitting me in the legs. Mercifully, I’m free to breathe. Jake looms over me like a sentinel, arms folded across his chest, his jaw working as his eyes bore twin holes into the top of my head.

  “I never got it, y’know. I’ve never been able to figure out why you hate me so much.” I sound resigned to my fate. I’m anything but, though. I’m trying to buy myself some time to figure out what I should do next. There’s nothing in the shower room. Like, nothing. No furniture, no benches, no pictures mounted on the walls. There are the shower heads, the taps and the tiles. There’s nothing I can use as a weapon in here, which means I have to find a way to get out of here and fast.

  I’ve never seen a sneer as spiteful as the one that flickers briefly across Jake’s face. “Do I need a reason?” he says. “Maybe you’re just really fucking easy to hate.”

  I actually think about this. Over all the noise and chatter going on inside my head, I take a moment to assess his statement to see if I can find any truth in it. “I used to be a bitch. Before, when I was hanging with Kacey. I was nothing compared to her, though. And you seemed to like her just fine.”

  “Pssshhhh.” Jake shakes his head, the veins standing proud in his forearms. He’s tensed up; the muscles in the column of his throat work, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What does it matter, hmm? I fucking hate you and that’s all there is to it. I don’t need to explain myself to you or anyone else.”

  “So there is a reason.”

  “Shut up, Silver. Just take your fucking clothes off!”

  He’s teetering on insanity. He wants me to quake in fear before him. In his mind, he’s imagining fear dancing up a storm in my eyes, my shaking hands fumbling to peel my soaked pajamas from my body. I probably look terrified as I stand before him in his mind’s eye, naked, goosebumps from my ankles to my neck, arms wrapped around my torso as I try to hide the secret parts of myself away from his venomous eyes.

  Unwillingly, my gaze dips, and I find the bulge in his pants that confirms my suspicions. His dick is hard. He is getting off on this.

  Disgust churns in my stomach. I look away. “You want me in that uniform, you are gonna have to come down here and strip me.”

  “Don’t you understand? If you don’t do it, I’m gonna fucking hurt you.”

  I watch him, my gaze to roving over his features—features I once thought made him the hottest guy on the face of the planet—studying his face, trying to find any tell-tale sign that might have been a warning to me back then. There’s nothing. I let the silence grow heavier, stewing in it while I think. “It doesn’t matter how much you hurt me, Jacob,” I tell him. “I won’t trade in my dignity to avoid a little pain.”

  “It won’t be a little. It’ll be a lot.”

  I splay my hands out in front of me, palm up, wincing when I realize that the little finger on my right hand looks (and feels) broken. “And yet the fact remain the same…”

  Jake grinds his teeth together, eyes narrowing into slits. I trap a frightened yelp behind my teeth, determined not to make a sound as he comes at me, his fingers digging viciously into my upper arm. “You wanna make things harder than they need to be, then so be it. You’re not as tough as you think you are, bitch. You’re gonna be begging on your knees for me within the next thirty minutes.”

  I’ve seen people on morning television who can turn off their pain receptors in their brains. They can ‘mind-over-matter’ the shit out of their extremely painful medical diagnoses and go about their day. It must take a lot of practice. There’s no way I can turn off my pain as Jake punches me in my side. Bone grinds on bone beneath my skin, and a wicked, sharp white flare of light stuns me. I don’t know which way is up.

  I’m numb, bent slightly forward, trying to pull in a breath that will never come, and I still don’t make a sound. Jake chuckles maliciously as he grabs hold of my pajama shirt and yanks it forcefully up my body. I pin my arms to my sides, twisting, determined to get away from him, but he locks a hand around my throat and shoves me back against the tile.

  “You think this is some kind of game, don’t you? You don’t think I’m being fucking serious? You’re about to die. You should probably start treating the situation with the gravity it deserves.”

  Fear me.

  Show me that I scare you.

  Give me your terror.

  Give me your panic.

  Let me revel in it all.

  I’m so tired all of a sudden that it’s an effort to keep my eyes open. With a monumental force of will, I arch an eyebrow at him, pulling one side of my mouth up into a smirk. “Whatever you say, Jake.” It was a stroke of luck that I laughed in his face when he raped me. I had no idea how badly it would fuck with his head. I know perfectly well how it affects him now. “Just get on with it, Weaving. You’re boring the shit out of me.”

  “URRRRAAAAGGHHHH!”

  I don’t see his fist until it’s too late. I blink, and when I open my eyes, there are his knuckles, an inch away from my face. I broke my leg when I was a kid. Broke my arm at my first ever cheer rally when I was fourteen, too. Never broken my nose, though. The POP! comes first. The searing, eye-watering pain doesn’t come until a couple of seconds later. Blood gushes down my face, running over my lips, seeping in between my lips; it’s also
pouring down the back of my throat, effectively cutting off my airway again.

  “It’s hardly a scream, but I suppose I can be satisfied with a little coughing and spluttering. Hey, Parisi. Parisi, hey, look at me.” Grabbing me by the chin, he tilts my face up, but again I don’t give him what he wants. I can’t look at him. I can’t see a thing, because my eyes are watering so badly. Jake turns my face one way, and then another, grunting quietly, taking a moment to appraise his handiwork.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Silver. You are gonna make one fucked up looking corpse.”

  Bile burns like fire as it climbs up my esophagus. Fighting my natural urge to retch, I ride out the pain spreading its fingers across my face, and I wait.

  Not yet…

  Not yet…

  Jake’s oblivious until the very last second, when I pitch forward and violently purge the contents of my stomach all down the front of his t-shirt.

  “Uhhh, what the ffuu—you dirty fucking bitch!” He lets go of me, pulling his shirt away from his chest, and I’m ready.

  I take the opportunity, and I bolt.

  My body vibrates with adrenalin—Free. He let go. I’m FREE—and for one blissful moment, nothing hurts. My ribs are numb. My head is numb. My face is numb. My fight or flight reflexes kick in beautifully. Even my vision clears for a second. Long enough to see the door to the shower room approaching fast. I slam through it, immediately taking a left, gunning for the exit to the locker rooms, but then…