by A. J. Logan
She continues making small talk, and the minutes pass quickly before our time is up. Standing from the table, she pulls me in a warm embrace before I watch her leave the room with new pastels and sketchbook in hand. A bright smile flashes across my face as she raises them to me with a smile then disappears through the doorway. Tears immediately stream down my face as I move to the exit, avoiding eye contact as I wait on each staff member to release me from what feels more like a prison rather than a treatment facility. As I step onto the elevator, Jack does as well. I fumble with my key fob, looking to the floor.
“You all right, Victoria?” he asks, his voice soft.
“Yes sir. I’m fine. It’s just …”
“Overwhelming and crappy.”
Clearing my throat. “Yep.”
“I’m sure your mom will be out in no time.”
I nod, feeling horrible for having to lie to him but I didn’t want to chance anyone finding out that I wasn’t supposed to be visiting Olivia. Stepping off the elevator, I tell Jack goodbye before he heads in the opposite direction.
Sliding into the driver’s seat, my head falls back as I take a few minutes to gather myself before I head home. The last thing I want to do is explain to anyone where I was or why I’m upset. Not many people even know that Olivia is here, and no one knows I’m visiting her every week. Hopefully, it stays that way.
8
Victoria
Stepping to the bathroom sink, I scrub my hands methodically, delaying my trip to the Golden Café for lunch. After visiting Olivia yesterday, I’ve felt emotionally drained. I might want to kick Elliot in the balls, but I hate what he’s going through with his mom and that I’m hiding my visits from him.
The bathroom door pushes open but I keep my focus on scrubbing the soap off my hands until I notice it’s Grant, a smile plastered on his bruised face as he leans against the wall between me and the exit. An uneasiness spreads in my stomach. I quickly grab a paper towel to dry my hands, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I head out of the bathroom.
He moves in front of me, blocking my path, and I instinctively take a step back. “What do you want, Grant?”
He chuckles, pointing to his face. “Payback.”
“Then you’re talking to the wrong person.” I shift to sidestep around him, but he counters.
“No. I think you’re exactly the right person since I finally found the button that makes Elliot Bass lose control.”
“You’re delusional. Whatever is going on with you two morons is between the two of you.”
“I’d beg to differ. All I did was drop some quick bait and he latched on immediately when you were involved.”
“I told him nothing happened. Play your ridiculous games but leave me out of it.” And Elliot has more going on than our BS, so I’m sure that is affecting his emotions too, whether he wants to admit it or not, but it’s not like I can tell the idiot in front of me that.
“Too late.”
“Whatever, Grant.” When I step to the side, he grabs my arm, harshly flinging me against the wall.
“Listen here, you spoiled little bitch. Either do as I say or the entire school and administration, including your daddy, will get pictures of your pussy.”
It takes a minute for me to understand that he can actually fulfill the threat until he holds up his phone, displaying a picture of me sprawled out on a couch, skirt hiked up and my thong pulled slightly down, revealing everything.
“You really did have too much to drink,” he snickers, proudly displaying the image.
The party. He had to have taken the picture before I woke up with his hand up my skirt. Bile fills my throat as I reach for the phone, but he jerks it back, just out of my grasp. “Delete it now.”
“Not a chance. So, here’s what you’re going to do: tell Bass I fucked your brains out and you enjoyed every second of it.”
“You’re sick.”
“Nah. Sick would’ve been sticking my dick in your pretty pussy while you were unconscious. I gave you the choice, but that doesn’t mean Bass needs to know.” The sinister gleam in his eyes reminds me of the person I’d experienced at the party, little had I known he’d already proven to be just as bad as I feared.
“He’s my brother’s best friend. That’s it. Nothing more.”
“Nice try, but him beating the shit out of me for something he doesn’t even know is true proves otherwise.”
There’s no reasoning with this lunatic. “Erase the picture and I’ll say whatever you want me to say, not that it makes a difference since he’s nothing to me but my brother’s idiotic friend.”
“Nah. I’ll keep it just in case you forget your part in this.”
“What’s your problem with him?”
“I’ve sat by and watched him and your brother run this school like it’s their kingdom, going out of their way to humiliate me over and over while everyone worships them. This year is all about payback. Your brother’s is already in progress too. I’ve finally found the weaknesses of the two so-called titans—pussy.”
“Quinn,” I mutter, knowing that Grant has made a point to hang around her and she seems to be friends with him despite my warnings to stay away. Little had I known when I’d said he was a bad person how right I’d be. “Stay away from her.”
“Have you not figured out that you aren’t calling the shots? I am.”
“No. Send the picture to whoever you want, but I’m not going to sit by and watch you do the same to her.”
“Aw. What a loyal little friend.” He taps his finger on my nose as I jerk away from his vile touch. “Don’t worry. Quinn is playing right along since she hates your brother as much as I do. Besides, Bass is the one I truly despise. Maybe I’ll just clue Asher in on your little fling and let the two of them battle each other.”
“Fine, dickhead. I’ll go along with your sick plan but under one condition—stay away from Quinn. If I even get an inkling that you’re planning to do the same thing to her, I’ll be sure to clue the titans in on this little scheme. You’ll definitely get worse than that disgusting bruised face you’re currently sporting.” And it’s still a thought. The only thing stopping me is Asher and Elliot’s friendship might not survive, and with everything going on with Olivia, I won’t let Grant have the satisfaction of tarnishing their lifelong friendship.
“I’ll keep her at a safe distance but if you breathe one word of this to her, I’ll be sure and get a matching picture of her to put on display beside yours for the world to see.”
The bathroom door swings open as a girl walks in, her eyes big as saucers as she spots Grant in the bathroom.
“Don’t forget what I said, sweetie.” He leans forward, moving as if to give me a kiss, but I force him away.
“Touch me or anyone else, and I’ll be sure to burn your world to the ground, sweetie.”
Grant snickers. Stepping back, he winks to the shocked girl standing just inside the bathroom’s door, glancing between the two of us. “Can’t please her every time.”
Fucking lunatic. Moving into the stall, I step away as my emotions overcome me. I’d said I’d go along with it, but I can’t imagine why Grant would go to such lengths just to spite Asher and Elliot. How he could do something as vile as taking a photo of me while I was passed out … Nausea rolls over me and I lean forward, heaving into the toilet. The photograph clear in my mind. Even if I could get his phone, Grant more than likely has a copy somewhere else. And if he makes good on his threat, my father would be on the list to receive the picture. Tearing a strip of tissue from the roll, I wipe my eyes, rubbing away makeup in an attempt to stop crying but it’s pointless. No matter what I do at this point, that photo will remain in existence, in Grant’s clutches.
Coming out of the stall, I move to the sink, splashing water on my face as the same girl who’d witnessed Grant’s crazy steps to the sink beside me.
“Are you all right?” Her voice is soft, unsure, but she knows as well as I do that I’m not all right.
“Yes, everything will be fine.” And it will be. Because one way or another, Grant will pay for this. First, I have to make sure Quinn stays out of his clutches. Walking out of the bathroom, I head straight for the café, grabbing the first tray of food available before heading straight to our picnic table. Quinn is already seated, her head down as she looks at her phone. I try to act normal, like nothing is going on, but my mind is screaming, yelling for me to do something—anything—as I feel violated, dirty, and pissed. It takes everything I have to sit down at the table calmly, flipping open a book before I feel her eyes on me. Looking up, I note the concern on her face. It’s an actual struggle to not tell her every single detail of what just happened.
“What?” I ask, swallowing down the words for fear that Grant would take it out on her if I were to tell her.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine.” No. It’s not. But I can’t say that now. I will as soon as I figure out what to do, but right now, all I can think about is what Grant could’ve done if I hadn’t woken up when I had. Looking back to my textbook, I don’t see a word on the page as my mind swarms with what ifs. I don’t know what to do. Both the notion of what could have happened Saturday night while I was passed out and the utter loneliness of being blackmailed over it feels immensely frightening.
9
Elliot
At first I’d been thrilled to not be at my house, but now, even though I’m ready to go home, I’m stuck at the Hastings’ party. It’s in full swing, and I’ve drank enough to not care that she’s been MIA most of the night, but my mind keeps playing on why she hasn’t been around and who she’s with.
Asher stares off into space as I nudge him, hoping I’m not being too obvious. “Where’s Quinn and Victoria?”
“Hell if I know or care,” he responds, pushing off the chair in a huff.
Same, bro. More than likely, he isn’t suspicious because his mind seems fully preoccupied with Quinn. It’s probably the only reason he hasn’t noticed anything else going on around him.
Reclining back, I scan the room again before tilting my head back, downing another generous gulp of whiskey. A few partygoers have already asked me what’s up because normally I’m the life of the party. Tonight, I just don’t have it in me. I can’t fake being cheerful after pretending to be that way all week. I’d put on a spectacular show for Susan to convince her that I was okay being alone in the house, and I was, mostly, because my father being there is worse.
Scanning the room, my eyes fixate on the arrogant bastard descending the staircase nearest to her bedroom, his glower equally focused on me. He walks across the room, heading for the back door as he makes an obvious spectacle of adjusting his jeans before stepping outside onto the patio.
Without thinking, I dart up the staircase, stopping in front of her door seconds later. I yank the knob, throwing the door open before swiftly stepping inside and then slamming it shut behind me. If she wants to screw him fine, but she’s not going to lie to my face and tell me nothing happened so that bastard can put it on full display and taunt me every time it happens.
Glancing around the darkened room, I spot the balcony door open. The sheer curtain blows in the wind as I push it to the side, stepping out into the night breeze. I don’t know what I had expected to find, but it certainly surprises me to see her comfortably seated on the lounge chair, earbuds in, hand scribbling away in one of her sketchbooks. Relaxed. Serene. Is it because he wasn’t in here or because he was?
Startling, she jolts slightly at me standing like an absolute moron just staring at her, drinking her in since I can’t touch her.
Plucking her earbud out, she looks to me with annoyance. “What?”
Like an idiot, I don’t know what to say. “There’s a party going on.”
“Yep. I’m aware.” She holds up the earbud before situating it back in her ear and resuming her tranquil activity. I feel anything but tranquil as my mind swarms with questions, none of which will be answered. How is she so calm? How is she dismissing me, again? The house is swarming with people, music thumping so loud I can feel the beat in my chest, and she’s tuning the world out. Why can’t I do that?
Pulling the earbud out of her ear, I don’t think before I ask, “Was he here?”
Confusion covers her expression as she removes the other earbud, looking unsure. “Who?”
“Grant.”
Her body goes tense for a moment before she looks down to her sketchbook. “No, he wasn’t. And you shouldn’t be here either.”
Reclining back, she smoothly strokes the charcoal pencil along the paper. I lunge forward, grabbing the sketchbook from her. Glancing down, my breath hitches when I look to a drawing of my mom. The happily smiling, full-of-life version of her that seems so far away because the last time I saw her, she was anything but happy … or filled with life. Anger surges through me as I move my arm back.
Jumping up, she waves her hands in the air before pressing a hand to my chest as her other grabs for her artwork. “Don’t. Don’t you dare do it.”
“Why not? You have no right to draw her, especially with a smile on her face.”
“Give it back to me now.” She reaches for the book, but I hold it out of her reach. So close, yet so far—just as she is to me.
“You replaced it once, replace it again, and keep her out of it.” Before I can move my arm back, her fingers dip into my pocket, and I know what she’s clutching as she yanks her hand out. My key fob.
“Then your beloved keys are going with it.”
Leaning forward, I place my mouth so near to hers that when I speak, I feel her soft lips brush mine. “Go for it. All I have to do is make a phone call, and I’ll have a replacement faster than you can spread your legs for that fuckstick.”
Shifting to the side, I sling the haunting image away and it lands in the pond with a splash, an angry feeling of déjà vu hangs between us. Full-blown rage covers her face as she strikes my chest, pushing me back as she stomps past me. Looking over her shoulder with a devilish smirk, she says, “I wonder how fast they can replace your precious NSX.” She darts out of the room, so I take off after her.
She wouldn’t. But … maybe she would. I follow behind her as she pulls the handle of the door, flinging it open roughly. Dropping inside, she slams it shut. Oh, shit. She’s really not fucking around. Starting the car up, she lays on the horn. A crowd of people part, thankfully, as she drives through the grass, heading towards the pond. Yeah. She would. Sprinting forward, I’m able to catch up with her because luckily the crowd is slow to clear a path and fortunately she isn’t pissed enough to run anyone over. Yet.
Banging on the window, I jerk the handle. “Open the door now.”
She holds her middle finger flush against the window, flipping me off and yelling something too muffled for me to understand. Asher appears, attempting to open the passenger door, but it’s locked. She slows down long enough to yell at him, so I seize the opportunity to dart forward, planting myself in front of the car. She slams on the brakes just a few feet away from the water’s edge.
“Get out of the car!” I demand. Asher hollers for her to do the same before moving to the front of the car, his hands on the hood. Not that either of us could stop her if she decides to complete her mission.
She surges forward a bit before laying on the horn. When neither of us move, she shuts the car off, jumping out. Though she yells incoherently at me, I’m just relieved she didn’t run over me. For a second, I wasn’t sure she wouldn’t take the chance while she had it. My guess is it was a very good bet she would have mowed my ass down had her brother not been in front of the car with me. The siblings argue furiously—Asher hollering for her the calm the fuck down; Victoria screaming for him to get his stupid-ass friend (that’s me) out of her face before she beats the shit out of both of us.
Piercing me with a contemptuous glare, she dangles the key fob before turning to the pond and slinging the key into the water. Looking back to me, her anger has morphe
d into a dreadfully defeated expression that I’ve never witnessed on her before and hope never to see again. A single, heart-rending tear slips down her cheek. “Don’t ever come near me again.”
My eyes stay glued to her back as she stomps away, only stopping for a moment as my insides twist, spotting the smiling face of Grant. He looks down at her, then she says something before elbowing past. His eyes dart to me, a smug stare in place. If he cared anything about her, he wouldn’t be smiling after seeing the look on her face.
“What the hell was that about?” Asher asks, looking between me and the direction Victoria went.
“Nothing,” I say, attempting to catch my breath. But it’s more than just the adrenaline causing me to have trouble. “I dared her that she didn’t have the balls to do it.”
“Why would you do that? You had to know she would do it just to show you she could.” Asher walks back into his house. I follow a step behind, and snatching a bottle of liquor off the counter, I down a generous swallow, wanting to drown my thoughts—and her expression—out of my mind.
“Why do I do anything that I do?” It’s a rhetorical question, but the real question is why I feel the need to beg for her forgiveness, even when I accomplished exactly what I’d set out to do. Again.
10
Victoria
Anger. Fury. Frustration. Rage. Defeat. I can’t decide which emotion is the strongest as I ascend the staircase, slipping into my room before shutting the door behind me, I lock it, like I thought I had earlier. Even though people know it’s off-limits, a few drunken idiots have stumbled into my room before.
Sluggishly moving to my bed, I slide under the covers, pulling them to my face as I sob. Angry that Elliot got to me once again, I’m also livid that Grant was standing front and center, a witness to the show. That arrogant, self-assured grin had been fully intact when I passed him. Unable to keep my emotions together, I wished I’d been able to tell him I was done with all of them. I’m almost to the point where I don’t care what he does with the stupid picture, as long as he will leave me out of their feud. Grant has pitted us against each other in hopes of causing trouble, and he’s accomplishing just that. But Elliot is ripping my soul to shreds, and I can’t handle it anymore. I’d never intended on him seeing the sketch of Olivia. I almost hadn’t drawn it but after our visit this week she’d been constantly on my mind, and I wanted to remember her when she was smiling, genuinely happy … before something or someone broke her spirit, causing her to do the unthinkable.