Vicious
Page 7
I look away.
“Oh no, you don’t get to avoid me. Not again.” He grips my face with his hand and searches my eyes. “You look at me when we’re talking.”
“We’re done talking.”
“No we ain’t!”
“Then I’m done talking!” I shout.
“NO YOU AIN’T!” he booms so loud the neighbor’s dog starts barking.
“Let go of me.”
“Naw,” he holds me tighter. “Not letting you run from your past anymore. Time to face it, Immy. Time to face me. Why did you leave?”
“Because I couldn’t be here anymore.” My tone this time is softer, more defeated. “If you’re so bothered, why didn’t you come for me?”
He punches the wall by my head but I don’t flinch. I stopped flinching a long time ago. “I fucking did come for you. I didn’t stop looking for you.”
“You’re lying.”
He steps back, eyes flashing with hurt. “Am I? What the fuck do you know about it since you weren’t here?”
“I know you didn’t find me!” My bitterness at past events is being displayed in a way I don’t want it to be.
“I FUCKING TRIED!”
We stare at each other, hurt, hearts heavy, love lost.
“Just go,” I beg, wrapping my arms around myself. “Please. Kane. Just go.”
“Not until you tell me why.”
I sniff and wipe my tears on my arm, ducking out from under him so I can put some distance between us. “I hope you never find out.”
Mom knocks on the window, drawing our eyes to her darkened front beyond the glass. She’s holding my phone.
“Webber,” Kane grunts and spits on the ground. “He the one that got you that fancy car? Those fancy clothes you’re wearin’?” He stalks me back towards the house. “How much he pay you to fuck him every night? Wrap those thighs around his hips so he gets his three minutes? How much you worth these days, Imogen?”
I feel something hit my back and my entire body tenses with rage beyond the type of rage I’ve ever felt.
“Take my whole wallet on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”
Turning, I look at the wallet on the hard, cold ground, and then at him with a furrowed brow and a dropped jaw. Is he for real?
“You think being vicious at our age is fun, or sexy? It’s not. Clearly one of us has outgrown the other.” I kick his wallet at him and pull out mine. “I’ll give you everything in my wallet to fix my fucking car so I can go home.”
“Thought I was your home, Immy?”
“Once upon a time so did I.” I yank open the back door and slam it shut behind me. I’m shaking, I’m devastated, my body is cracking open and spilling out feelings I long since locked away.
He hits it with his fist and screams an elongated, “FUUUUUCK!”
Less than a minute later I hear a bike in the distance and know that it’s him driving away.
14 years old
I approach Kane, something I’ve never done before, desperate to speak to him about what I heard this morning. I hug my books to my chest and keep my eyes down.
Ren wags his brows at me, stitches no longer visible at the corner of his mouth from when I hit him. He has almost healed.
“Save me,” Ren jests, jumping onto Mallick’s back and making them both fall into the lockers behind them.
I shift my bag up my shoulder and stare at Kane’s collar. This is the first time we’ve spoken since that incident a week ago.
“Can we talk?” I ask him.
“You gonna look at me?”
I raise my eyes and huff. “What is it with you and eye contact?”
He doesn’t reply, just stares at me with a disinterested and vacant expression.
“Can we talk?” I repeat, with attitude this time.
“What’s in it for me?” His friends lean closer, all of them interested in whatever this is between us.
I bite my lip and give him an urging look.
“You gonna show me your panties?” His arrogant grin makes me want to punch him in his stupid fat head.
Shaking my head with disbelief, I go to walk away and I’m surprised when he shifts in order to follow.
“Woooooo!” Ren cheers, laughing loudly when I glare at him. “Kane’s getting midday laid!”
“Shut up Ren,” both Kane and I chorus and their group around them laughs.
I glower at Kane as though it’s his fault we spoke at the same time, but he just grins down at me and pops a piece of gum into his mouth.
Maisy, who wasn’t even in this corridor when this began, skips over to us and throws her arms around Kane’s neck. She plants her lips on his and steals the gum out of his mouth, all the while keeping one eye on me. That’s gross.
I make it obvious that I find her vile.
“What are you guys doing?” she asks him, her tone whiny and annoying.
“Be back,” Kane whispers to her, sucking on her lower lip for a moment and I wonder what that feels like. My cheeks heat and I look at everything but them.
“But—”
“Mais, get the hell off my neck,” he says firmly and pushes her away. “I go wherever the fuck I want.”
She guffaws as though she can’t believe he just spoke to her like that. What on earth did she expect? It’s Kane!
I lead him through a door to the right, not realizing it’s a closet and immediately regretting my decision.
“This isn’t science class,” I mumble, feeling like an idiot for not paying attention to the door numbers. In my defense they all look the exact same. It’s confusing.
“This is intimate,” Kane comments, laughing lightly.
“I didn’t realize it was a—” I blow out a breath of frustration. “It doesn’t matter. We need to talk.”
His eyes narrow into slits and his lips rise at the corners. “I told you, you gotta show me your panties first.”
I punch his chest, right in the middle and he goes red faced with a cough. I can tell he so badly wants to react. I got him right in the diaphragm.
“Can you not be serious for one minute?”
“I was being serious,” he rasps. “Figure since I saved you from being molested, the least you can do is show me a bit of what I’m missing.”
“You’re gross. I will never show you my panties.”
“You really think so?” His tone is hushed and bitter, his eyes glowing in the dim light that comes from the glass pane above the door. It highlights the dust particles in the air making this small space sparkle. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”
I go to hit him again to get his attention but he grabs my wrist and holds it tight.
“He’s fucking dead, Kane,” I hiss, ignoring his pain and kicking an empty metal bucket out of the way. “This isn’t time for jokes. What are we gonna do?”
“Relax,” he says with a roll of his eyes. He looks better now. The pain must have passed. What a shame. “They’re closing the case.”
“What?”
“He fucking shot himself. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know but—”
“Except for you because you stole something from his pocket.” He grins evilly. “Didn’t know you had it in you to be honest.”
I think of the money I hid inside the seam of my schoolbag, underneath all my books, the only way to get to it is through a hole in the inside pocket which I made to stash my phone. It has been burning a hole there for a week. I’ve been terrified of spending it in case they somehow know I stole it and are tracking it. It’s stupid really, but what if it’s possible?
“I didn’t do anything,” I lie and his brow jumps.
“Sure you didn’t. I ain’t seen nothin’.”
I blow out a breath, feeling a little bit relieved. “Okay. So we’re okay?”
“We’re okay.” He twists a lock of my long chestnut hair around his finger. “Now show me your panties.”
“Stop asking me that, you pervert.” I shoulder past him an
d shove open the closet door. It hits Ren who was eavesdropping on the other side and because he screams like a girl, everyone looks our way. Everyone.
“I’ve had better to be honest,” Kane calls, fiddling with his jeans like he’s only just pulled them up.
I gape at him, horrified, and then look around at my peers.
“I despise you,” I tell him, making sure he can hear it in my tone and see it in my eyes. “I despise you.”
“Man, did she give you a blowjob?” Ren asks quietly as I rush away.
Kane doesn’t reply but I know he’s enjoying every moment.
I really do despise him and everything about him.
15 years old
“OH MY GOD!” I screech, covering my eyes and turning away because Poppy is legitimately straddling my brother and they’re both butt naked.
“OH MY GOD!” Poppy shrieks and I hear movement.
“Sis!” Matthew yells as though this is all my fault.
“I didn’t do anything!” I cry, feeling around for the door handle but I end up knocking a bottle off the top of his dresser. I must have turned too far.
“It’s okay, we’re decent,” Poppy pants, sounding breathless, which is so gross and I hear the bed dip.
I peek through my fingers first and look at my best friend in nothing but my brother’s T-shirt who is beside her. “When did you start having sex?”
“Like a month after we started dating,” Poppy admits with a shrug. “It’s not a big deal. Everyone does it.”
My brother, looking smug and icky, with his bare chest and his open pants and his flushed cheeks, winks at me in a brotherly way.
“Mee-maw might have killed you if she caught you.”
Matthew shrugs and puts a cigarette between his lips. “I don’t care. What are you doing walking into my room anyway?”
“Laundry,” I snap, scowling at him. “I thought you were out.”
“You didn’t hear the bed creaking?” Poppy asks, giggling like it’s hilarious.
I motion to the door with a sweep of my arm. “The radio is on.”
“She just wanted to see me naked,” Poppy jests, lifting the T-shirt to flash me her nude body. She’s developed too, much like I have, except my breasts are bigger as they always have been.
“You’re such a whorebag,” I mumble, looking away.
“And you need to live a little. Buy some hot clothes and put yourself out there. You’re wasting your life here.”
Matthew nods his agreement. “You’re wasting away. You’ve become Mee-maw and Grandpa’s slave. And every night I hear you crying in your sleep.”
Wow. I can’t believe he just called me out like that.
“Is that why you don’t want to do sleepovers anymore?” Poppy asks, looking concerned.
“I have nightmares, I can’t help it.” I don’t tell them why I have nightmares. I don’t tell them that every day for the past year I have been terrified that the police are going to knock on my door and take me away for Martin’s death, or the money I stole and still haven’t spent. I don’t tell them that I can’t get his lifeless face out of my head and that sometimes I wake up paralyzed with him sitting at the end, staring at me, bleeding from every orifice while he masturbates his disgusting, crooked penis.
“Come on.” Poppy stands and looks for her clothes. “Live a little, let’s go shopping. I know you’ve got savings. You’ve been doing that paper route for over a year.”
I shake my head. “Mee-maw takes all the money for that. Puts it in savings.”
They both gape at me and Matthew instantly gets angry.
“Why the fuck, do you let her do that?”
He stands and starts to dress, cigarette hanging from between his lips. This place is going to stink of smoke and Mee-maw is absolutely going to notice. Not that he cares.
“I’ve had enough.”
“Leave it,” I beg, not wanting to cause any trouble for our grandparents. As strict as they are I don’t want to hurt them.
“No, Mee-maw is treating you like a slave.” Matthew pulls on a clean T-shirt as Poppy also dresses.
“Matthew,” I beg. “Don’t! Please don’t. Because she’ll think I’ve been complaining.”
“YOU SHOULD COMPLAIN,” he booms, shrugging off Poppy’s hand when she places it on his shoulder. “You’re so fucking weak, Imogen. You need to stand up for yourself. You need to live!”
“I’m not weak,” I yell back, hands balling into fists by my side. “I just—”
“I just,” he mocks, making his tone high and whiny. “You just let everyone treat you badly. You’re going to end up committing suicide or shooting up the entire fucking school, Immy. You can’t go on like this!”
I’ve thought a lot about the former though the latter hasn’t crossed my mind, I have considered smothering the old cow while she sleeps.
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you’ll stick up for yourself,” he bellows, gripping his hair with both hands. “Fucking stick up for yourself!”
I want to scream at him. I want to tell him to mind his own business but I can’t because he’s right but it’s all so much easier said than done.
“It’s not that simple, Matthew!”
“Fine, if you won’t tell your mee-maw how it’s gonna be,” Poppy interrupts, smiling sadly at me, “then at least stop letting her control every fucking aspect of your life.”
“You don’t get an opinion when your momma just bought you a car,” I state simply and huff. “Fine. I have some money saved up.”
Poppy’s brown eyes sparkle with excitement. “How much?”
“About seven hundred dollars,” I answer and chew on the inside of my mouth. “Give or take.”
“How—"
“Where—”
They both ask at the same time.
I don’t want them to think I’m a total loser but I also don’t want to out myself so I lower my voice and reply, “I stole it.”
They both gape at me.
“You’re lying,” Matthew hisses, narrowing his hazel eyes on me.
I shake my head. “I’m not. I stole it from Mr. Martin when he tried to make me have sex with him. I was fourteen. Then he died like a couple of days later so I never spent the money and I never told anyone.”
So it’s a different version of the truth but it works.
“He did what?” Matthew grits. He’s so clearly affected by my confession. “Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t get the chance. I ran.”
“Oh my God… that’s horrific but also badass.” Poppy throws her arms around my neck and squeezes so hard I can’t breathe. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I worried somebody thought I might have had something to do with his death.”
“Did you?” Matthew questions, smirking.
I lie again, it’s too easy to lie, “No. I didn’t hear about it until after school.”
They both believe me and both promise to take it to their graves.
I am getting so good at lying. Too good. It’s becoming easier to lie than it is to breathe.
26 years old
I call the garage, it’s only nine in the morning but I need to know what’s happening with it. I also need my things because I really want a shower.
“Faceless Mechanics, Emmy speaking, how may I help?” a young sounding woman calls cheerily after answering their local phone.
“Is Ren there?”
“Ren? I think so.” There’s noise as the phone clatters on the wooden desk. “Yeah, he’s working on some fancy-ass black Jag I think it is.”
“That would be mine,” I say cheerily, and laugh when she starts to splutter an apology. “Can I talk to him? I just need to know where we’re at with the fancy-ass black Jag.”
“I can do you one better, the boss-man just walked in.” Her tone becomes sickeningly sweet when she calls a friendly, “Hiiii Kaaane.”
“Morning, Emmy.”
I hate
the way he says her name. It sounds too much like Immy. I’m the only Immy in this town.
Why am I feeling jealous over a fucking name? There’s something wrong with me.
“It’s the lady calling about her car.”
“Imogen?”
“I didn’t get her name.”
There’s rattling and I consider hanging up but I’m not a complete dick.
“Imogen?” he repeats but louder this time because he has the phone in his possession. “Or have you gotten your mother to call for you?”
“It’s me,” I respond after a second. I needed a moment to register the fact I’m hearing his voice and how different it sounds. It’s so deep and sultry but also gravelly and rough. Everything you want a man’s voice to be. “How goes my vehicle?”
“It goes nowhere. I need to source the part we need.”
“Fuck.”
“We can if you want to.”
I bristle. “Don’t be a pig.”
“You said it.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I—!” I stop myself when I start to sound hysterical. “Please just fix my motherfucking car.”
That latter part of my tone wasn’t much of an improvement.
“I’m tryin’ Immy. We don’t got the parts on hand is all. I’m heading to Leander in twenty to see what they got. If they have it I will have you back on the road in no time. Okay?”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“My my, looks like becoming a city slicker got you some manners.”
“How do you know I’m a city slicker?”
He laughs loudly. “Apart from your pristine shoes, shit car and the fact you have a boyfriend called Webber?”
“Fair point.” I find myself grinning, transporting myself back in time to when we were allowed to make each other laugh.
He clears his throat and his tone changes. “So I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes or less.”
“Who? Me?”
“Not speaking to anyone else, am I, babe?”