The Society

by Michelle Brown

  Watching them, I take another sip of my drink, it makes my skin crawl the way he keeps touching her. His hands are on her hip, on the bottom of her back, her arm, and he even brushes her hair away from her face.

  “Don’t they make the perfect couple?” someone says, and Serena laughs.

  I watch them both as they do some shots with some of the football team before moving into another room. I debated following, but I wasn’t some puppy dog who was going to beg for its master.

  “Yeah, they’re definitely homecoming king and queen material,” Serena agrees as she leans into me. “It’s just a shame about all those rumors from last year. Sam really doesn’t deserve all the whispering.”

  I take a drag of a joint someone’s offered me, I know Lena hates it, but tonight I’m wound tighter than a coil. Ignoring the gossiping, I try to casually look around and see if I can spot Lena. Whoever’s house this is, liked an open plan, and while I could see into the kitchen, and the finishing room, I still couldn’t spot her or the jock.

  A dark-haired girl called Shanice tuts, “Yeah, like I can’t believe that Chelsea thinks anyone would believe her lies.”

  “It’s a good thing she moved schools,” Serena says with a smug expression. “I heard that she tried to convince one of the other girls to lie too, the whole thing is just ridiculous.”

  There’s something echoing in her words that makes my brain whirr into life. Something that sounded familiar. “What are you on about?”

  “Haven’t you heard the rumors about Sam?” someone called Destiny asks as she shuffles closer to us on the sofa.

  “Poor boy,” Serena mumbles, with a sad look on her face, but again...something feels off.

  “One of the girls from the netball team tried to say he raped her at a party. It was all lies, obviously.” Shanice shrugs. “I mean, look at him. Girls go willingly.”

  Laughing, Serena jokes, “She probably just felt like a slut the next morning and tried to justify it.”

  I vaguely remember something about this last year, but it was like a shimmer, there one minute and gone the next, so I never thought anything about it again. Besides, I never got involved in the school dramas, so why did something strike me as familiar? “And there were others?”

  Destiny rolls her eyes. “No, she said there were others.”

  The three girls all share a knowing look, and they remind me of witches cackling over their cauldron as they stir up toxic troubles.

  “No one else came forward,” Serena explains with a sly smile, and it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time.

  She sits back, her hand still firmly in mine, and the way the corner of her mouth drags slowly up her face tells me everything I need to know.

  She knew the rumors were true. She knew, and she offered up Elena on a plate. I was going to kill her with my bare hands, but first...I needed to find Elena.

  Chapter Nine

  Elena

  “Do you want another drink?” Sam whispers into my neck, and I nod. He winks at me as he heads to the kitchen to grab us both something, and I use it as an excuse to go to the bathroom and splash some water on my face.

  Why was I here? I hated these things. I hated these people. And I was getting drunk, I could feel it. My body felt sluggish, and it was almost like I was floating, but every time I said no, he just handed me another one anyway.

  Tristan was here somewhere with Serena, she’d already text me a selfie of the two of them, but I had yet to actually see him. I’d run into Blythe, however, who’d barged past me with her shoulder before disappearing amongst the crowds of people. I guess she couldn’t handle seeing Tristan with another girl either. Either. Why did I think that? Seeing Tristan with Serena didn’t bother me, he was free to do what he wanted with whoever he wanted. The same way I was.

  Sam comes back minutes later, two beers in hand. “Hey, you’re looking flushed. You want to grab some fresh air?”

  “Yeah.” Air was a good idea. Tristan was confusing me, making me behave in ways I wouldn’t normally. I didn’t even want to be here, but I wanted to prove to him...I don’t know what I was trying to prove.

  When Sam had picked me up this evening, my father had pulled me to one side and reminded me that I was a Montgomery first. I was the mayor’s daughter. An image had to be upheld. I had to behave myself and not disgrace him. His ears were ringing in my ears as I downed the shots one after the other, and now that it was all hitting me, I could feel something simmering away inside.

  The cool air washes over my skin, and it feels like I can breathe again. I’d chosen a strappy dress because it had been warm all day, and I knew it looked good. I trained hard, I earned this body, and every once in a while, I liked to remind myself of that.

  “Wanna go and sit in the pool house? It’s quiet there, and we can talk for a bit?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I smile, but it’s fake. Sam was boring. And pushy. And he was beginning to get on my nerves.

  Taking my hand, he leads me down past the swimming pool towards the back of the garden. The pool house is dimly lit, with a single lamp, but I prefer it that way. I don’t have to keep smiling and pretending to look interested in the faded light. I could just sit and pull myself together. I was tense, and I was struggling, especially since Sam was determined to pour more drinks down my throat.

  “Can I kiss you?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

  “Sure,” I whisper. A kiss was nothing. It meant nothing, so what did it matter if he kissed me?

  His lips are on mine instantly, and all I can think about is how wet his mouth is. I’d been kissed before, but I never felt anything. It was what it was, our lips touching, our tongues joining the party, and the bitter taste of disappointment. It’s when his hands start moving over my body that I try to pull away.

  “What? I thought you wanted this?” he murmurs against my neck, and I try to shrug him off, but it's like he’s made out of syrup as he sticks to me.

  “Get off,” I growl softly in warning, pushing him back. I was hanging on to myself by a thread today, now wasn’t the time to press my buttons.

  “You’re such a stuck-up little princess, but fine. If you want to play hard to get, I’ll play.” He lunges, hands grabbing at my dress, and as we tussle, I hear the tearing of fabric.

  Where my mind was a swirling storm earlier, now I’m oddly detached. I don’t panic. Logic dictates that I should be afraid, but in The Society, fear is a wasted emotion. His knuckles bite into my skin as he tries to pull down my dress, plastering wet kisses on my body wherever he can. Nails scratch me and teeth drag across my flesh as he does what he wants, regardless of my will.

  I inhale and relax, which he takes as a sign of my acceptance. I need to behave, I remind myself calmly as the feeling from earlier gets stronger, filling me.

  No, I won’t be a good girl.

  I am not a body to be paraded around for others enjoyment.

  I am not a doll.

  He claims my mouth roughly, moving down my neck as one of his hands disappears up my dress. I want to push him away, but I don’t. Instead I wait for the right moment and bite down on the fleshy bit of his ear until I taste the coppery tang of blood and his screams fill the air. No one back at the house would be able to hear him, especially not with the music blaring.

  He shoves me back, slapping my face before clutching his head in pain. Rolling my eyes, I push myself back up, watching him as he tries to gauge whether I’ve actually torn a chunk of flesh from his ear or if I’ve just made him bleed. I grin, knowing I’ve torn a chunk, because I can feel his skin between my teeth.

  “You fucking bitch!” he screeches, blood pouring down his neck and all over his white linen shirt. “I’m going to make you pay!”

  I tilt my head as he grabs my torn dress in his fist and tries to pull me to him. I give in to the feeling that’s been building all week. I succumb to the rage.

  With all the pent-up anger bubbling to the surface, I take the heel of my palm and r
am it into his nose. The crunch noise is almost like the sound of stepping on gravel, just wetter. He steps back, and that’s when I kick him in the balls. I leave him in the pool house, ignoring his cries and taking his phone with me as I go. If he wanted help, he could go and find it.

  I make a quick call once I’m in the garden, and look down at the damage. My dress is torn at the hip along a seam and both straps are hanging limply on, only attached by threads. I sigh and tear them off completely, my black lace bra is on show, but still in one piece. Sam’s blood is all over my face, down my neck, and runs into my cleavage. It’s also smeared over my hands and up my arms, making me look like I’ve been taking part in some Satanic ritual.

  “You all done with your date?” a voice calls in the darkness, and I automatically flip him the bird. Trust Tristan to be lurking. I don’t know why, but I’m almost relieved to see him leaning against a tree, watching me with his arms crossed.

  “Did you have fun?” he says with a half-smile, as we listen to Sam calling out for help. His cries are getting quieter, and it worries me how little I’m bothered by that.

  “It was messier than I would have liked.” I look down at the blood on my hands, noticing more on my thighs. Fingerprint bruises have started developing under the mess too, and I roll my eyes again. How was I supposed to explain this to my father?

  “Well, it’s nice to see you let your hair down once in a while,” Tristan says as he lights up a cigarette.

  I bite down on my bottom lip, grinding out, “I lost control.”

  Tristan scoffs. “He deserved it.”

  There is no judgement for what I’ve done as he looks over my body with a serious gaze, he isn’t checking me out, he’s cataloguing the damage. He’s making sure I’m okay. And that’s comforting.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “He did. But I should’ve known better.”

  “Why?” Tristan shrugs and stubs out his cigarette. “This is part of who we are. The Society isn’t anyone’s bitch. We don’t lie back and think of Silvercrest as we get screwed over. We take what we want, fuck who we want, and hurt who we want.”

  “There are still rules, otherwise it’s just chaos.” I shiver, completely sober and as Sam finally goes silent.

  “Chaos is your middle name.” Tristan shrugs off his jacket. “You’re just not ready to admit it.”

  “That’s not what I want,” I say firmly as he places his jacket on my shoulders and pulls it around me, still holding onto the lapels. We stand, looking at each other for a moment, saying nothing.

  His tone is bitter as he murmurs, “Yeah, I forgot. Good girls behave, right?”

  His dark eyes are locked with mine, and it’s another battle of wills. He wants me to lose control, he wants me to wreak havoc and welcome destruction into my life. But I can’t. I have responsibilities. I have to keep my anger inside.

  “Fuck you,” I whisper as he lets go of the jacket and steps away.

  “You want a ride home?”

  “I don’t have the headspace to deal with you,” I admit. “Stay away from me, Tristan.”

  He was working his way under my skin, making it harder to stay sane and stay in line. He was pushing me at every turn, challenging me, and I couldn’t hold out much longer before I broke, and I wasn’t ready for that. I needed to focus. I needed to regain control.

  “I can’t do that.” He grins and winks.

  “Why?”

  He swipes his thumb across his bottom lip lazily. “Because you’re mine.”

  Chapter Ten

  Tristan

  Elena surprises me by handing my jacket back, a determined look on her face. “I need to do something, and you’re not going to like it, but please don’t stop me.”

  I frown as she moves past me and strides towards the house. Her hand rests on the door handle, and I realize what she’s about to do. I slide my hand into her free one and give it a gentle squeeze before letting her go.

  She inhales with her eyes closed, then exhales slowly before entering the house. Barefoot, with her dress torn and covered in blood, she walks among our peers, the same people she cheered for at the pep rally this afternoon. The laughter, the shouts, and even the music eventually die down as she moves through the house. Unapologetically. Unafraid. She dominates as she moves, showing them who she is. A motherfucking queen.

  Following behind her, I watch as she holds her head up when people start whispering, they either want to know what happened or they’re able to guess because they know Sam.

  I spot Atlas Grim, another member of The Society, scowling as we move through the lounge. His lavender eyes are fixed on Lena, as he takes in her appearance, and I know he’s doing what I did: assessing the damage. When he’s decided she’s unharmed, he tilts his head towards the garden, and I nod in reply. When he disappears seconds later, I don’t look for him because I know where he’ll be. In the pool house with the others, taking care of the mess Elena left behind. The Society would make that fucker pay for touching one of ours, and when Monday rolled around, it would be like he had never existed.

  Before I know it, we’re standing outside the house on the sidewalk.

  “Are you really going to go home like that?” I ask, reluctant to send her home looking like she’d done a shift in an abattoir.

  She bites her lip. “I called my mother. She told me to call a cab and not to worry about the cleanup.”

  Of course she did. Adeline Grim—sorry, Montgomery—was nothing but a loving mother. Not. I sigh when I see the vacant look in Lena’s eyes as she tries to tune out. She was building up her walls again, and it was making me feel powerless.

  “Hey,” I place a hand on her shoulder gently, “none of this will get out.”

  “I know.” Her voice is detached. “I know the power The Society has, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it.”

  A black car pulls up, I’d text my father’s chauffeur Lewis the second I heard Sam’s screams, knowing that we’d need to make an escape soon. I hold open the door and guide Lena into the back seat where she stares at her hands in silence.

  Scream. Fight. Rage. Please. Don’t shut down, I beg in my head as I sit next to her, my leg pressed against hers so that she knows I’m here if she needs me.

  The house party disappears in the rearview window as she whispers, “I’ve changed my mind. Don’t send me home yet. I can’t—I need to…”

  I nod and tell Lewis to take us to my house.

  Seeing Lena in my room is strange, not because I don’t want her there, but because I do. I’ve thought about nothing but her for months, and for years she’s always been in my mind, lingering on the periphery. But this didn’t feel real, like I had conjured her up. Raw and bloody, barefoot and standing at the foot of my bed. The dark grey walls making her stand out even more, it was an image I wanted to capture, something I wanted to paint later. Her sharp green eyes are hazy as I direct her to my en-suite bathroom and show her the wet room I had installed a few years ago.

  “Here,” I say, handing her a dressing gown and a towel. “While I am digging the look, killer queen and all of that, I can’t imagine it feels very nice.”

  We both look at the rusty-colored smudges that are starting to flake and crack. The corner of her mouth twitches. “Of course you’re still hitting on me, not even blood deters you.”

  “Get in the shower, we can talk about us later,” I say with a wink as I turn on the water.

  “Us? I’m not sure Serena will like that,” Lena muses as she begins to unbutton her dress. As a cheerleader and ballet dancer, she doesn’t seem to have the same hang-ups about her body that other girls do. And as she strips down to her underwear, I’m so fucking grateful for that.

  “There’s that jealousy I love so much,” I say, as I close the lid on the toilet and sit on it, crossing one leg over the other, leaning back to watch as she moves to unhook her bra.

  She stops, flipping me off with a smile. “Fuck you, Douchbag.”

  “Anytime, Princess.” And I mean
it. I would take her sassy attitude and name calling over the strange silence of earlier any day.

  Crossing her arms, she stares at me for a minute. Raising her eyebrow, she hisses, “Get out.”

  “Fine,” I sigh and reluctantly leave.

  She closes the door behind me, but doesn’t lock it, not that I’d barge in anyway. She was going to come to me. Keeping an ear out for the shower turning off, I ring Atlas and check in with the others.

  “Was he dead when you found him?” I ask quietly as I dig a pair of shorts and a T-shirt out of my wardrobe for Lena to wear after she was done getting rid of all traces of that fucktard Sam.

  Atlas laughs down the line. “Pfft, no. Just passed out. What a pussy.”

  “Is he dead now?” I say, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. I don’t want him to know how tonight’s little episode had my blood boiling because while Atlas is on our side, everyone only ever acts in their own self-interests in this town. I’m happy that he’s there for us today, but next week he could be the one cutting our throats, and that’s just the world we live in.

  “Of course, I can’t believe you’d ask.” I can imagine his smug face as he says that. Murder is nothing to him—he sees a problem, he takes care of it.

  “I just had to check.”

  “Is Elena okay?” His voice is softer, and I know that he’s genuinely concerned on one level. Elena is the ultimate good girl, and she always has been. Growing up, she’d always tried to do the right thing, to behave as her father expected her to, and while the rest of us rebelled and did what we wanted, she lived in her gilded cage like a songbird that had its wings clipped. Not for long though.

  “She’ll be fine,” I reassure him.

  “She did a fair bit of damage. Sam’s face looked like a smashed-up pumpkin. I didn’t think the class president had it in her to be so vicious.” The admiration is clear, and I feel a bristle of pride. I was forcing her out of her shell.