Scarred (Bullied Book 5) (Bullied Series)

by Vera Hollins

  Scarred

  Copyright © 2021 by Vera Hollins

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be utilized, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or mechanical methods, without the written consent of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Warning: This book contains sensitive themes and situations that may be triggering for some readers, so caution is advised.

  Edited by: Emily Junker

  Formatted by: Champagne Book Design

  Cover Design by: Rasha Savic

  Cover Girl Art photo by: annamile from Depositphotos

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This book is a spin-off. It can be read as a standalone, but it is recommended to read Bullied (Bullied #1), Pained (Bullied #2), Damaged (Bullied #3), and Trapped (Bullied #4) before reading this book to get a better understanding of the story and characters.

  There is no time skip between Scarred and Trapped. Furthermore, chronologically, the first chapter of Scarred comes before the scene with Melissa and Masen in chapter twenty-nine of Trapped. Melissa is referring to that scene in the beginning of the second chapter of Scarred.

  The prologue of Scarred comes after the fight scene between Hayden and Mateo in chapter twenty-five of Bullied.

  To Pigi. You taught us so much and brought light to our lives. Thank you for everything. We will never forget you, little fluff ball.

  “Knife Party”—Deftones

  “Hurt You”—Phedora

  “Vicious”—Halestorm

  “If These Scars Could Speak”—Citizen Soldier

  “Yellow Flicker Beat”—Lorde

  “You Call Me a Bitch Like It’s a Bad Thing”—Halestorm

  “Trauma”—NF

  “Nobody’s Home”—Avril Lavigne

  “Listening”—Tonight Alive

  “Love and War”—Fleurie

  “Shadow Preachers”—Zella Day

  “Can You Hold Me”—NF ft. Britt Nicole

  “Deeper”—Valerie Broussard ft. Lindsey Stirling

  “Calm The Storm”—Spoken

  “Oxygen”—Tonight Alive

  “Coloratura”—Coldplay

  Six months earlier

  September

  “You asshole!” I shouted at Hayden, my brother’s friend, as he dragged away Sarah like the caveman he was.

  This night had suddenly taken a wrong turn. My parents were away on a trip, which translated into my brother, Steven, throwing a party in our house. I’d invited my new friends and we’d had a good time, but this crazy jerk was messing it up.

  I struggled to believe my own eyes, hardly feeling the throbbing in my hand from the blow my fist had delivered to his face. Who the hell did he think he was, forcing Sarah to leave with him? And to say he owned her? Abusive prick.

  To top it all off, I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I couldn’t help Sarah. I should’ve knocked him to the ground. And then puked on him—twice, for good measure.

  Jessica and Mateo stood next to me, equally perplexed by his brutish ways. Mateo’s face was bruised and bloody courtesy of that caveman, who could now have his way with Sarah, and there would be no one to stop him.

  I flinched. The all-too-familiar acidic anger bloomed in my chest at the very thought, but I tapped into it, relying on it, as always, to push any other feeling away.

  I clenched my hands, imagining punching his sneering face repeatedly. “There’s a special place in hell for fuckheads like you. It’s right beside a dumpster filled with piles of shit. I’m going to send you there myself,” I gritted out.

  Blondie, one of Hayden’s friends, snorted, and I turned my glare on him. His icy blue eyes sliced into me. “Just so you know, if you mess with Hayden, you mess with us.”

  Instantly, my dislike for him grew from one hundred to ten thousand. If I remembered right, his name was something like Masen, but it should have been Douchebag. He had a baby face, muscles layered on muscles, and an aura of overconfidence. He was just the kind of guy I hated with a passion.

  Next to him was another of Hayden’s friends, who looked to be the same kind of annoying barbarian. They were in our way like Hayden’s living shield, which doubled my anger. We couldn’t just deal with one asshole, no, we had to deal with three. I was going to have to give Steven another lecture concerning his poor choice of friends.

  “If you mess with Hayden, you mess with us,” I repeated in a mocking voice. “Guess what? My fist and I don’t give a damn. Now, get your asses off my property and stay off it. For good.”

  Steven sighed as he turned to look at me. He was already stoned and too irresponsible to care about my friend being treated this way. The moron had stopped me from changing Hayden’s facial description as payback for fighting with Mateo! I loved Steven to bits, but I wanted to roast him for siding with them.

  “This is my property too, sis,” he said. “And Masen and Blake are my friends, so they’re not going anywhere.”

  I placed my hands on my hips. “You are not right in the head.” I pointed at them. “They’re barbarians!”

  Blondie snorted again—Does he speak some snorting language only the pea-brains like him understand?—and my dislike for him grew from ten thousand to a gazillion.

  “Says the rabid dog,” Blondie said. “I’ve never seen a girl more aggressive and crazy than you—no offense, Steven.” He smirked at my brother. “Are you sure she’s your sister and not adopted?”

  Steven—that idiot—actually sniggered. “Why do you think we don’t own any guard dogs? My sister is more than capable of kicking ass.”

  Blondie didn’t look impressed. In fact, he looked as though he couldn’t be more repulsed by me.

  “I bet she punches when she fucks, just for kicks. Or maybe it’s her tic,” he said. “Sex with handcuffs takes on a whole new meaning with her.”

  I winced. The world narrowed to him as my blood pressure soared, and the others stopped existing. My body was too small and tight for this fury as it swallowed all of me. I saw a vision of me landing countless punches on his face until it became a gory mess, and it was that addictive image that dragged me a step closer to him, my hands fisted and ready to bring it to life. Only that would calm this raging storm within me. Only that.

  Steven placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me back, breaking through my bubble of rage.

  “Self-control, remember?” he said out of the corner of his
mouth so only I could hear him. “Chillax.”

  I gritted my teeth hard as I fought against the need for violence that burned so deep inside of me. Self-control. Right. That wasn’t something I excelled at. My rage-induced high blood pressure and I were best buddies.

  I took some deep breaths through my teeth and approached Blondie, hoping for his own good that he would heed my next warning. “Stay away from me. Or you and I are going to have a big problem.”

  Satisfied I had the last word, I turned to leave, but that jerk actually had the audacity to smirk and say, “Don’t worry. I have no intention of wasting even a minute on someone as crazy or ugly as you. Good luck finding a boyfriend.” He nudged his friend and turned around, dismissing me. “Let’s get back inside and find some hot pieces of ass.”

  Steven caught my shoulder again before I could lunge at Blondie, knowing me too well. My fingers hurt from fisting my hands too hard, and the throbbing in the knuckles on my right hand increased as I watched Blondie and his brooding friend leave, but that was okay. Physical pain was ten times better than emotional pain. It lasted for only a short time. It hurt less. It could be forgotten.

  Blondie better stay away from me. Or I’d show him exactly how crazy I could actually get.

  Present

  Beginning of April

  I pushed through the students that crowded the school halls, picking up the snippets of their eye-roll-worthy spring break stories. It was almost like listening to frogs—annoying and repetitive. I tuned out the irrelevant stuff, instead on the lookout for any shenanigans.

  East Willow High was, to put it eloquently, a nuthouse, just like my old school, Rawenwood High, with its endless gossip, irritating stares, and bullies. As the vice president of the student council, I felt I had to be a mother hen all the time and make sure this place was free of chaos. Steven said I was like Batman because I was always vigilant and solving messes that weren’t mine to solve, but if not me, then who?

  Only recently, this school had started changing for the better. We had a new principal and a school administration that actually cared about the students’ safety, and now there were dedicated efforts to fight bullying. It was far from perfect, as most of the bullies were still undeterred, but at least some of them were aware heads would fly if they got caught. I was going to deal with them personally, if needed. Knock out a tooth or two. Leave a few bruises.

  Some people just didn’t understand that making others miserable didn’t earn them brownie points. So, I employed my fists each time they refused to listen, and it had worked well so far.

  They learned a lesson, and my ever-present rage was tamed. It was a win-win situation.

  “Did you hear about Brooks?” I heard someone say just as I was about to turn the corner.

  I halted, straining to hear over the noise of the hallway.

  “Hear what?”

  I pressed myself against the wall and peeked around the corner, clutching the student surveys we had to go over at the council meeting today. Two seniors stood next to the lockers a few feet away. I whipped my head back before they spotted me.

  “He bought drugs from a junior in the restroom.”

  I ground my teeth. What the hell?

  “Really? Damn. At school?”

  Red. All I saw was red.

  “Yeah, and did you see the way he looks? I’m totally freaked out, man.”

  I wanted to march over to them and give them a piece of my mind for their stupid gossip, but I had someone else to confront. Right this second.

  I rushed in the opposite direction. Spring break was barely over, and Steven had already managed to fuck something up. Buying drugs at school? He was pushing it. He’d been pushing it for quite a while now, but this? I gripped the papers tighter, thinking about the last few weeks—no, months—that represented my brother’s one-way ticket to something darker than dark.

  I was freaked out myself over the way he looked. He was the poster boy for the worst possible drug addiction, with his bloodshot eyes, constant aggression and anxiety, and his previously muscular body turned skeletal. He was a disaster waiting to happen, and as much as I fought to get through to him, it was pointless. Unless I chained him to his bed and put bars on his door and windows, I couldn’t keep him away from drugs. I couldn’t even convince him to give rehab a chance.

  Still, I couldn’t just stand aside while his addiction was becoming so bad that he had to buy drugs at school. From a junior, no less. That idiot. Did he want to get expelled that badly?

  I tossed the surveys into my locker, took my Samsung out of my pocket, and opened the app to track Steven. I’d secretly installed a GPS tracking app on his phone two weeks ago, after he made a brilliantly stupid decision to not return home for days. I didn’t trust him not to do it again.

  Or to not leave for good.

  I clenched my phone so tightly at this thought that the case creaked in protest. Since he was eighteen, he could go wherever he wanted, so if he decided to leave, neither Mom nor I would be able to stop him. No one would.

  I feared it all the time. I feared he’d actually fulfill his threat to leave home and we wouldn’t be able to find him again. We wouldn’t be able to help him.

  I slammed my locker shut, angry at him for being such a pain in the ass, and at myself for stressing this much over him. The app showed Steven in a restroom on the second floor, so I headed there, not caring at all if I was late for class.

  I rushed into the restroom with an insult on the tip of my tongue but stopped short because the place was empty. I checked my phone again. Yep, he was definitely here.

  Someone snorted in one of the stalls, and the hair on the back of my neck bristled. He snorted again, and then again, and one didn’t have to be a genius to know what he was doing. Unless he had waterfall snots no tissue could solve.

  Not good.

  I glanced at my phone again. There was no doubt this person was Steven.

  It was time for some roasting.

  I crossed to the stall. “Steven?”

  He stopped snorting, going completely silent.

  “Steven, I know you’re in there, so come out before I knock down this door and drag you out myself!”

  “The fuck is she doing here?” I heard him mutter to himself.

  My nostrils flared, and I banged my fist against the door, making it shake. “Steven, don’t make me repeat myself.”

  Judging by the sounds of plastic crinkling and his jacket zipping, he was stashing away his drug. That piece of goat shit. My fist connected with the door again. I was getting my hands on those drugs and flushing them away if it was the last thing I—

  He whipped open the door and stepped out with a glare that could make anyone cower in fear—anyone except me.

  I took a moment to study him and saw exactly what had those seniors creeped out. He was a six-foot-five pile of eww. His dark hair was disheveled and greasy, as though he’d never heard about the existence of combs and shampoo. His pupils were unnaturally dilated in his bloodshot eyes, which, along with his hollow cheeks, dark undereye bags, and vampire-pale face, completed his super-creepy appearance. And, as if that weren’t bad enough, he’d been wearing the same wrinkled clothes for days, even though my mom made sure all his clothes were regularly washed and ironed.

  But what really made my stomach sink was the trace of white powder on his nose. Too late, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked with a sneer. “This is the boys’ restroom.”

  “No shit. Thank you for enlightening me about this ultimate mystery of life. The real question is—what are you doing here? And, no, don’t bother answering, because it’s totally obvious. You have more coke under your nose than in that bag you’re hiding in your jacket.”

  His glare intensified as he wiped his nose again. “How did you find me?” His eyes dropped to the phone in my hand. “What’s that?”

  I looked at my phone. Shit. Part of the screen was visible,
showing the tracking app.

  He grabbed my phone before I could stop him and looked closely at the screen. His eyes widened.

  “You’ve been tracking me?”

  I snatched my phone back and stuffed it in my pocket. “Of course I’ve been tracking you! After you took off last time, what did you expect would happen? And as if your last vanishing act weren’t bad enough, now you’re buying drugs at school. From a junior!”

  He kicked the side of the stall. “That doesn’t give you the fucking right to track me!”

  “I have every right! I’m your sister. So, if I have to track you to stop you from making an even bigger mistake, I’ll do it a thousand times more, and I’ll do it with pleasure!”

  His face twisted with revulsion. “That’s it. I’m done.”

  “What?”

  His lips curled in contempt. “I said, I’m done. I’m tired of you following my every single move. I’m tired of you lecturing me all the time. I’m tired of you. You’re a crazy, overprotective bitch.”

  I winced, growing cold at the venom in his words. They cut too deeply. He’d never talked to me like this, but now . . . now he was just a stranger who was breaking my heart piece by piece.

  He darted out of the restroom and I rushed after him, hardly aware of the students in the hallway gaping at us. He didn’t get to leave like that.

  I grabbed his shoulder. “Wait!”

  He shoved my hand away and spun around to face me. “Leave me alone! This is my fucking life! And I can do whatever the hell I want.”

  “No, you can’t! Think about your family, you idiot. Think about our mom. She’s worried sick about you. Stop being selfish for once in your life and think about someone other than yourself!”

  His frown grew deeper; hostility radiated off him in waves, which only fed my own. We were standing so close to each other, but we could have been miles apart and it would have felt the same. I couldn’t reach him. I couldn’t make him see there was nothing for him but destruction if he continued acting this way. He would hurt us all.