by S. Massery
Anger. So much anger in one man.
I slip inside, braced for screaming, for broken glass, but there was only silence and my case worker. She seemed sad. Her lips were pinched, and her eyebrows pulled down in the middle.
She had a bag next to her full of my stuff. Four shirts, a package of underwear from Walmart, two pairs of socks. I only had the jeans that I had on. Nothing brings a kid down to earth faster than carting around their worldly possessions in a trash bag.
“Where to?” I asked her.
She just shook her head. “A respite home.”
Respite. Temporary. A night, a week.
I glared at her. “What’d I do this time?”
“The family said you were stealing.” She showed me a watch that belonged to Mr. DiMario. “I found this in your room.”
My heart pounded. He wouldn’t have called Social Services—he would’ve beat me silly. I’d been with the DiMario’s for three weeks, but it was enough to instill fear.
“I didn’t. I don’t even like stupid old watches.”
She rubs her eyes. “What am I supposed to do here, Margo? It’s grounds for removal.”
It’s better this way. Mrs. DiMario stroked my hair until I fell sleep, but I was better off without them. Stronger without them.
I straightened my shoulders and snatched the bag from Angela’s side, rifling through it. Everything was there and accounted for—except one thing.
“Where’s the bracelet?”
She shook her head. “What?”
I ran back into my room. It was no larger than a closet with a twin bed on a low frame and a dresser against the wall. Everything was stripped, even the sheets. I jerked around, falling to my knees.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“The bracelet,” I said. I was frantic. Blue and gold. Blue and gold.
It had to be here somewhere. I should’ve never taken the stupid thing off, but it frayed. I was afraid it would snap if I wore it.
Someone at school might see it and yank, and then he’d be gone forever.
I was halfway under the bed when she grabbed me and yanked me out.
“Stop,” she said.
My attention was glued to the floor.
“There wasn’t a bracelet in here.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I put it—”
“I’m sorry, Margo, but…” She glanced around, throwing up her hands. “I don’t know. We have to get you to the respite house.”
She forcefully led me out of the house. I barely registered where we were going through the tears, but then I was in the car, hugging my belongings to my chest.
Gone. It was gone.
My life here? Easily erased.
How did they manage to do it so efficiently? It’s evil the way kids like me could be wiped off the map. Didn’t like her attitude? Boom, gone.
Like she never even existed in the first place.
Present
It’s impossible to do anything except count cracks in the ceiling. The music is full blast, and the sounds of a million people layer on top of it. I tried scrolling Instagram, checking emails, listening to my own music…
Nothing drowns out the noise.
I stand and check my reflection. I look surprisingly okay for the day I’ve had.
I pull on a hoodie from Ian’s closet—the least I deserve—and cover my head. There’s not much I can do about my face, except let my hair half conceal it. Once my boots are on, I slip my phone into the hoodie pocket and crack the door.
The music is even louder in the hallway.
Remembering Ian’s warning, I lock his door behind me and try to act inconspicuous. No one throws me a second glance—maybe I am incognito—until I get to the back door. I open it and step out onto the porch, inhaling a deep breath.
“Margo.” Caleb leans on the house. He’s in shadows, but I’d recognize him anywhere.
“Waiting to lay another trap?” It’s amazing how quickly fury reawakens.
I wonder if that’s how he feels when he looks at me, too.
“Trying to convince myself not to carry you out of here and show you how I really feel.” His words are dark.
I shake off the chill. “How’s that going?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He straightens. “Why are you?”
I saw him this morning. My heart shouldn’t be beating out of my chest like this. He’s just a boy. He’s just Caleb.
For a split second, I imagine hurting him. Punching him in the face or kneeing him in the groin. Anything to make him mirror the agony I feel on the inside. Because seeing him hurts in unexpected ways. There’s broken glass inside me, pushing its way out.
“Margo,” he repeats, walking toward me.
I stiffen, but I don’t move until he’s right in front of me. His hand comes up, sliding around my neck and into my hair.
It’s too gentle.
“You just—” I shove him away from me.
His face doesn’t show any reaction, like he’s numb to this. God, I hate him. I follow him, hitting his chest. I can’t stop, and he’s not doing anything to make me.
—fists against the door—
I blink. What was that?
In one smooth motion, Caleb grabs my wrists and maneuvers us so my back is against the side of the house.
I’m not a violent person, but he just makes me so angry—
“Come back,” he says in my ear.
I start. “Let go.”
“So you can hit me again? Unlikely.”
“Weren’t we happy?” I meet his gaze.
His fingers tighten on my wrists, which he keeps between us.
“We were happy—”
“No,” he growls. “You might be delusional enough to think—”
“Because you tricked me,” I screech.
He narrows his eyes.
I almost wish we were drawing attention, just to have an excuse to break free of him. As it is, my body is ignoring all the warning signs.
It’s been less than a day. I miss him and I hate him.
“It doesn’t matter.” He squints at me.
“How? In what world does it not—”
“You belong to me just as I belong to you,” he says.
“First to give in loses,” I whisper. “I guess that’s my big punishment? Ruining my life?” None of this belonging shit. He ruined everything.
I can’t go home.
I don’t even have a home.
Maybe I should go back to the Jenkins’s and get it over with. Let Angela take me out of this God-forsaken town once and for all.
“Even then, I’d find you.” He’s a mind reader. “I’ll never let you go. Which I think you know.” He touches the bracelet on my wrist. “And you’ll never let go of me, either.”
I flinch. I forgot it was there. The metal is warm, digging in under his finger. And beneath the metal, the threads that wove us together when we were kids. Dressed up like a bride and groom, tying the bracelets around each other’s wrists, a kiss to seal the deal.
Look how far we’ve fallen.
“Stop, Caleb.” I pull my arms down, trying to get away from him.
He releases me.
For a split second, I’m free, and then he’s back in my space, holding me captive by more than my wrists. His hips press into mine, and he leans his elbows on the wall on either side of my head. I have my hands, but he has my body.
“No.”
Simple. Effective. I’m pretty sure I hate the word—and him.
“You’re so hell-bent on destroying my life,” I snap. “Why not just drive the knife in deeper?”
He smiles.
He’s insane.
“You ran to Ian Fletcher. You’re wearing his sweatshirt. How am I supposed to react?” He leans forward. Our lips are so close.
“I hate you.”
His smile widens. “Right back atcha, love.”
I push him away, shaking my head. I am wearing Ian’s sweatshirt—t
hrough no fault of my own. He made me come here, where I had hoped he wouldn’t find me.
There’s a gleam in Caleb’s eyes that scares me. He’s out of his mind, and I’m only just now seeing it. Witnessing his demons take control.
I run to the door, getting halfway through the living room before Caleb grabs me. He slams me against the wall, hand on my throat.
The party falls silent. Even the music cuts out.
Caleb doesn’t tear his eyes away from me—and I can’t look away from him, either.
“What are you doing?” My voice is breathless. I don’t mean it to be. I want to come off strong, even though my body is thrumming with electricity.
One day isn’t enough to turn off all the emotions I feel toward him. And while I hate him, I think…
I blink. Nope. Not going there.
I wrap my hands around his. I can’t tell if I’m holding his hand to my throat or trying to get him to remove it.
“Party’s over. Leave,” he demands. He isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to… everyone else. He’s ending the party. Trying, anyway.
No one moves.
“Now!” he roars. He so rarely has to raise his voice.
Several people flinch, and it breaks the spell. It’s a mass exodus, everyone just… stops what they’re doing and rushes away. He really is royalty.
After a moment, I realize his thumb is moving along the underside of my jaw. Small movements that he might not even be aware of. His touch brings out goosebumps.
I close my eyes until everyone is gone, and we’re entombed in silence. He’s everywhere. In my past, my present. His scent in my nose. His voice in my ear. His hand at my throat, capturing every beat of my heart.
“You will break for me, little wolf,” he whispers in my ear. “This is just the beginning.”
I shudder. “Why?”
“You and I…”
I open my eyes. His gaze sears into me.
And his thumb still traces a pattern, back and forth on my jaw.
“We were happy,” I accuse him. “Until you blew it up.”
He grimaces. “Happy? No.”
Games and more games. My head hurts. My lungs ache.
“You’re mine, Margo. Forever. And you’ll break for me—don’t think that you won’t.”
This is just the beginning.
“I won’t.”
He leans down to kiss me. I press my lips together and turn my head to the side, exhaling through my nose when his lips land on my cheek. But he doesn’t stop. His lips travel over my cheekbones, touching my eyelid, then my forehead.
And his hand tightens on my throat. White spots explode in front of my eyes.
A soft whimper escapes me.
“Kiss me.”
I keep my head turned away.
“You bastard,” I choke out. I can barely breathe. Fear winds through my chest. It’ll make me do anything—including give in to Caleb. And that’s just… not an option.
“What do I have to do to prove that you’re mine?” he asks.
He tugs my pants down in one swift motion. He spreads my legs with his knee, and then he thrusts his finger into me.
I cry out, but the sound is strangled. I’m strangled. I push him, but he doesn’t budge. It’d be like trying to move a boulder.
“Wet,” he says. It sounds like an admonishment. “Kiss me, Margo, and I’ll leave you alone. For the night, anyway.”
Tears run down my face. I hate that I want him to keep touching me. That my hips move forward the slightest bit when his nail scrapes my clit. His fingers plunge back into me, stroking a spot deep inside me.
He kisses my cheek, his tongue darting out and catching my misery.
“You fucking love this,” he says. “Don’t pretend otherwise. Don’t pretend that you don’t wish it was my dick inside you. Maybe next time, I won’t send them away. They’ll get a live show—”
I grab his face and pull him to me. Our lips are magnets.
Make it a good one.
I taste my own tears as I part our lips, sliding my tongue along his. He takes over, slamming me back. My head thumps against the wall. His teeth tear at my lower lip.
He’s still toying with my clit, alternating between rubbing and dragging his nail across it.
That, the kiss, his hand at my throat…
An orgasm comes out of nowhere.
I groan into his mouth, and he takes it all. The orgasm, my noises, the kiss. My anger. My frustration.
His hand loosens on my throat, sliding down. His palm stops on my chest, over my heart.
“Well?” I manage.
His dark-blue eyes watch me. “It’s a start.”
He backs away, his gaze lingering on my face. It seems like he’s disappointed. I’m so glad there’s a wall at my back, because my legs would’ve given out otherwise.
He leaves. It isn’t what I was expecting, although it is what he promised.
Hate him, Margo, I tell myself. I pull up my pants slowly. My muscles ache.
Hair in place, hoodie straightened. Piece by piece, I reassemble myself. Caleb’s a hurricane force, and I’m supposed to withstand him, and everything he brings with him.
I’ve got to be stronger.
I walk into the kitchen and almost jump out of my skin.
“That was quite the performance,” Ian says, lifting his cup. He sways a bit. “I can see why he’s into you. The noises—”
“You were listening? Did you see—?”
He snorts and waves. “God, no. Caleb would’ve probably murdered me. Although I’m sure he realized I was there… I dropped a bottle.” He points to a shattered beer bottle on the floor in front of the fridge.
“I didn’t—”
“You were a little preoccupied.” He winks. “And wearing my hoodie, too. See?”
I roll my eyes. “See what?”
He raises the cup to his lips, then smirks at me. “You’re not the sheep everyone thinks you are. You’re devious.”
“Ugh.” I shake my head. “You said whatever I felt was a manipulation. You were right.”
“Was I?”
He’s drunk. He wobbles, then saunters toward me. “Best run off to your room before I do something I shouldn’t.”
My stomach flips. He would do something. Kick me, kiss me. I don’t want to know. I back into the counter, knocking over cups. I feel my way to the door, glaring while he laughs.
Once I’m out of the kitchen, I bolt.
He doesn’t chase me, but I run like he is. I unlock the door to his bedroom with shaky fingers and grab my bag, slipping into the pink bedroom. I shove the dresser in front of the door and exhale sharply.
He shouldn’t be able to get in. No one should.
I survey my handiwork, then flop back on the bed.
I’ve had a night.
My emotions are all over the place.
Pushing everything down, I crawl farther up the bed and curl into a ball. Sleep will cure everything. I hope.
6
Caleb
I let Margo have the night. I’m not an idiot—I know what today cost her.
But the important thing is that we’re on the same page. Neither of us are going anywhere. She needs to know how it feels to be systematically crushed.
And then we’ll see how well she puts herself back together.
“I was going to call you.” Theo leans against his car, and he straightens as I walk up the driveway. “But I figured you might be busy.”
I stifle a laugh. “You find Amelie?”
He follows me into Eli’s house. “She wasn’t home.”
I grunt.
“You found Margo.”
“Indeed I did.” I flick the lights on. I leave my shoes at the door and lead the way to the basement. “Why are you here?”
He shrugs. “Figured you might do something stupid.”
“Like?”
“Kill Ian.”
I chuckle. “I thought about it.”
�
��Everyone’s talking about how you kicked them out of Ian’s house,” he says, throwing himself down on my couch.
Margo and I sat there not too long ago. She was the last person down here besides me.
I shake my head. “We needed privacy.”
“That usually includes a room, you know? A locked door.”
“She’s turning into a ghost,” I say to my dresser. I yank out a clean t-shirt. “She needed reviving.”
“Is that what you were doing?” He scowls.
“I don’t think she even noticed it was a costume party.” I get changed, then flop down next to Theo. I stare at the television, which is currently off. “Video games?”
He shrugs. “Sure.”
I flick it on and hand him a remote. It isn’t the most intelligent thing for us to be doing. In fact, it kind of feels like a mind-suck after a while. I enjoy the empty feeling it gives me, so I let our playing time stretch from a few minutes into almost an hour.
I finally drop the controller and check the time. It’s past midnight.
“Do you ever sleep?” I ask Theo.
“Not really.”
I grunt. “Well, I do.”
He puts aside his controller and stands. “I can take a hint, Asher.”
He slaps my shoulder on his way out, and then…
Silence.
I lock myself in the bathroom, scowling at my reflection. I turn on the shower and wait for the steam to fog up the mirror. It only takes a minute, then I shed my clothes.
I hate looking at myself. My reflection. All I see is the scared little boy who Margo turned me into. Old rage works up my throat. I pound my fist on the counter.
I used to smash mirrors. My hands are covered in faint white scars, barely visible, from my time as an angry child. My mother once walked in on me punching the shit out of a mirror in the bathroom. She dragged me to the emergency room, where a doctor picked glass out of my knuckles for thirty minutes.
That was a hard lesson to learn.
Once I’m under the hot water, I relax. It’s almost hard to breathe with the amount of steam in the shower, and it reminds me of the way Margo’s pretty lips parted when I squeezed her throat. My dick gets hard at the thought of her.