by Kent, Rina
But no amount of tears will get her out of my mind.
She’s already trapped. She’s already done for.
I stand above her unmoving body. She fainted on the ground, eyes screwed shut and some of her mascara smearing over her pale cheeks. Both her hands still cover her ears as if she can stop the voices from barging in.
I crouch beside her and stroke a blonde strand behind her ear. Her lower lip twitches and I give in to the urge to touch those lips, to run my thumb along them.
They’re soft, full, and begging for my dick between them.
As if reading my mind, they slightly part. I groan deep in my throat.
Sex appeal.
Something Reina has in spades and uses to her advantage every chance she gets. I thought I was immune, but I’m not.
Because right now, I want to strip her bare and fuck her raw.
She’s getting under my skin again. She can’t get under my fucking skin.
I place a hand over her closed eyes and the other over her nose and mouth, cutting off her breathing.
Her lifeline.
The only things keeping her in this world.
This could end now.
Everything will be over. I’ll get what I want and she’ll get what she deserves.
Her slender body bucks off the floor due to the lack of oxygen. Her nails claw at my arms and her legs kick with the ferocity of life.
As much as she sometimes hates this life, she sure as fuck fights for it.
She’s a fighter, Reina. A survivor—but that won’t last for long.
Kill her.
Now.
I close my eyes and slowly remove my hand from over her mouth. Her gasp for air is choked and unrestrained, as if she’s been dying and is now coming up for air.
She doesn’t deserve such an easy death.
Not yet.
Her body slumps back down and her arms fall on either side of her.
A commotion comes from the other side of the door.
I stand up and memorize her broken form, committing it to memory.
“It’ll all be over soon,” I say. “It’ll all be over.”
It’ll all be over soon, a sinister voice calls above me. It’ll all be over.
I jolt awake, gasping for air as if I’m being resurrected.
The dark space disappears and buildings sprint past me. Am I in a…car?
My head snaps to the side, expecting to find whoever trapped me in class. He put his hand on my face. He suffocated me. He…wanted to kill me.
Oh, God.
All I remember is a blurry black silhouette as he walked away, but I would know him if I saw him.
He’s engraved in my subconscious like an enormous crow, a larger-than-life Grim Reaper.
My breathing comes down a notch when I make out the driver’s face.
Asher.
He drives with one hand on the wheel, his attention on the road.
It’s mind-boggling how much his presence calms me down. This shouldn’t be, right? Asher isn’t my safe space.
He can’t be.
I stare down at my jeans and camisole. They look intact. I should be fine…right?
Tingles push to my nose and pressure builds behind my eyes, but I hold in the tears…the humiliation, the pain.
When the hell will I stop my life from getting away from me? It just keeps slipping from between my fingers like water.
Realizing I’m awake, Asher throws a glance my way, or more like a stare. He has this thing about digging into my soul with those forest green eyes. It’s like he’s dissecting my insides and dancing on the remains.
He smoothly focuses back on the road. “What happened?”
“What am I doing here, Ash?”
He grinds his teeth. “It’s Asher. And answer my question.”
“Answer mine first.”
He gives me a fleeting glance. “I picked you up.”
I picked you up.
He makes it sound so easy, as if I wasn’t dying in there.
“What happened, Reina?” he repeats in a less patient tone.
“I went to class and…” My fight with tears turns intense. I can feel myself losing to the pull. “Someone trapped me. I…I…”
“You fainted?” he finished for me.
I shake my head. That’s not what happened. I had a flashback, but none of it makes sense now. It’s like an old, fuzzy, gray movie with white and black dots.
“You found me?” I peek at him through my wet eyelashes. There’s a sick type of gratefulness for this man whirling inside me.
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of what could’ve happened.
Asher is a jerk, but he’s a jerk who saved me.
“Lucy called me,” he says with ease. “You’re not important enough for me to notice your absence.”
I pause my imaginary thank-you dance, and my fingers twitch for something stabby—preferably a knife straight to his throat.
Why the hell does he have to ruin my image of him? Every time I get close, he becomes an asshole and ruins it.
“Sorry to have ruined your plans.” I stare out the window.
“It was nothing important, just coffee with Brianna.”
My body tightens until I’m sure some muscle or tendon will pop. I didn’t know Asher and Bree were close enough to have coffee without me.
Coffee.
It’s an excuse husbands give their wives when they’re cheating on them.
Breathe, Reina. You don’t care about this asshole.
He and Bree can get married and have demonic babies for all I care. But if they think they can play me for a fool, they have another thing coming.
I open my mouth to roast him alive but immediately close it. What right do I have when I’ve cheated on him first?
This is that karma thing, isn’t it?
For a long minute, silence stretches between us like a third passenger. Asher drives with his usual poker face while I seethe on the inside.
Volcanoes and hurricanes are running rampant in my head. I want payback, but I know if I act rashly, if I blindly give in to my emotions, the whole thing will flip against me.
“Do they know who trapped me in there?” I ask with a cool voice.
“You have too many enemies to count.” He announces it like it’s the weather forecast—a given, a normalcy.
“Starting with you.”
His piercing eyes hold mine hostage. “Starting with me.”
“If you hate me so much, why are you driving me home?”
“Image and all that.” He pauses. “I couldn’t stand there while the entire college saw you at your lowest.”
I gulp and fumble for my bag. I find the phone inside; the screen is fractured like my breathing.
It doesn’t take me long to figure out what Asher means. On the blackwood-black-book IG account, there’s a picture of me sprawled out on the classroom’s floor with my mascara streaked and my hands covering my ears. My hair camouflages half of my face, but it’s obvious that it’s me.
There’s no caption. As usual with BBB’s pictures, it’s just hashtags.
#FallOfAQueen #Look #SheCanCry
The picture has over a thousand likes and a few hundred comments.
‘Did someone play a prank on her?’
‘Is this a joke?’
‘I heard she’s been crazy since she disappeared.’
‘I swear I saw Jason, the Knights’ quarterback, drop her off. Knights’ whore.’
I close my eyes and power off the phone. I don’t know what stings more—the picture, the number of people taking pleasure in my fall, or maybe the asshole who had coffee with Bree while I was living a nightmare.
Pressure builds behind my eyes all over again.
Since I returned, I’ve been trying my hardest to atone and make amends, but nothing is working. No one likes me in that goddamn college no matter what I do.
“Aww, are you going to cry?” Asher mocks, a cruel edge in his v
oice.
I wipe at the blurriness in my eyes and stare out the window, ignoring him.
He won’t see me break.
He won’t see me cry.
“By all means, don’t stop on my account, my ugly monster.”
“You think all this is fun and games?” I face him and fold my arms over my chest.
He does that staring thing again. His attention is like a living breathing thing, sharp and cutting.
I hate how gorgeous he looks in his simple white shirt. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows, revealing taut forearms.
And the veins.
Jeez. His strong veins disappear underneath the shirt along with the tattoo I know is in there. His hair is combed today, but he still gives off ‘fuck the world’ vibes.
“I don’t know.” He taps his finger on the steering wheel ever so casually. “You tell me.”
“I thought I was dying.” My voice rises with pent-up frustration. “I could’ve died in there!”
“And yet you didn’t.” His cold, unfeeling tone cuts me so deep I’m surprised there’s not blood all over the expensive leather of his car.
“Is that what you want?” I murmur. “Would it make you happy if I died?”
He shakes his head once as he pulls into the house’s driveway. “You give yourself so much credit. Your life or death means shit to me, monster.”
“Stop calling me that! I’m not a monster. I am not.” My voice breaks along with my heart.
He saved me. Twice.
Surely that means something. Surely he can’t be such a stone.
Asher hits the brakes so hard, I jerk forward, but the seat belt holds me in place.
Before I can make out what’s going on, he lunges out of the car, strides to my side, and yanks me out of the seat as if I were a rag doll.
He lifts me up and carries me bridal style with ease, strolling into the mansion just like that first time he walked me to my room.
My breast brushes against his shirt and my jeans are the only barrier between my skin and his steel-like hand.
For a moment, I’m too stunned to react. For a moment, I get lost in the contact of our bodies, the tightening of my nipples, the torturous friction and the aching sensation.
I shake my head, the stupefaction withering away.
My hands turn into fists and I hit him. “What are you doing? Let me down.”
He continues as if he doesn’t feel my punches.
One or two of the staff poke their heads out but quickly hide once Asher throws them a glance—or more like a glare.
Blood rushes to my cheeks at the scene they must be seeing. I can’t believe this is happening.
He takes the steps two at a time and barges into my room like a bull. I expect him to throw me on the bed like the other time and play some intimidation game with me, but he goes straight to the bathroom.
I don’t get a warning before he drops me inside the shower and turns the water on.
It drenches me in a second. Cold. Freezing.
I shriek, my clothes and hair getting soaked and sticking to my skin. I gurgle as the strong flow hits me in the nose and mouth, cutting off my air supply.
Choking on my open breaths, I trip and slip backward. He grabs my arm in a painful grip, his skin ice cold on mine. He tugs me forward, I fall to my knees, and his onslaught continues.
“S-st…op…” I gasp, fighting for air.
The water comes out of my nose and my mouth at the same time.
“Stop?” He laughs with enough menace to make chills erupt all over my skin. “You’re only tasting your own medicine, Reina. You claim you’re not a monster, but how about that dare in high school? Do you know what you did back then? You dared a second year to hose a freshman in the boys’ locker room. He had fucking asthma and almost died. You’re lucky you don’t have asthma. You can survive a little breath play, can’t you, my ugly monster?”
Tears spring to my eyes, mixing with the water. My heart tightens, suffocating with my lungs.
“Come out,” he challenges, as if I’m a bet he’s trying to win. “Show me your ugly face—your only face. Stop pretending you’re a saint when the devil runs in your veins.”
I flail my arms around, trying to protect my face.
It doesn’t work.
For a second, I feel like I’ll die. I can’t face death twice in one day and come out victorious.
He cuts off the water. I gasp on air, panting and choking on my own breaths.
Oxygen burns the more I gulp it in.
“Are you going to stop this nice-person game?” His voice is so low it’s threatening.
“I…I’m n-not…pretending. I’ve changed.” The old Reina isn’t me anymore.
Water splashes my face again. “Wrong answer.”
I gurgle on unsaid words as I gasp and fail to breathe.
God. I think my lungs will bail on me.
“We’ll try again. When I turn off the water, I want you to…” He trails off. “No. You love dares, so let’s do it your way. I dare you to be who you truly are.”
The water stops. I gasp in as much air as I can, knowing it probably won’t last me for long before he asphyxiates me again.
With all the defiance I can muster, I stare him in the eyeballs. “This is me, the only me. If you’re too afraid to accept that then fuck you, Ash.”
His hold on the knob falters for a brief second before he points the showerhead in my direction again.
I take one last breath, bracing myself for the hit, but I don’t close my eyes. I’m going to glare at him as he does it.
I’m going to look straight into his empty soul and make sure he sees my fight.
Reina Ellis wasn’t born to be trampled on.
Instead of drowning me, he steps away.
“I promise you one thing. You will break.” The coldness of his eyes nearly freezes me.
But it doesn’t.
I don’t let it.
I jut out my chin. “Never.”
His eyes twinkle with something unreadable before he turns around and leaves.
I slump to the floor, all soaked as I catch my breath.
In this moment, I dare to make a promise to myself.
College and gossip won’t break me.
Whoever trapped me won’t break me.
No one will.
Asher included.
“Ignore them, Reina.” Lucy rubs the side of my arm as if that will make the goosebumps go away.
Everyone in the cafeteria is staring at us. Or rather, they’re staring at me. Since that incident two days ago, I’ve been called every name possible.
People are starting to take pictures of my every move and sending them to that shady Instagram account.
I hate that I subconsciously search all around me as if expecting someone to jump at me.
It’s like everyone waited for this moment to roast me. Even those who remain silent are secretly appreciating my fall from grace.
“Let’s sit with the football team?” Lucy prompts with a beaming smile.
At the far end of the cafeteria, the football team and some of the cheerleading squad sit together—Bree included.
Of course, Asher is with his jerk friends.
Everyone laughs and plays around. Not him. His entire attention is on me as if he’s been watching me since I walked in.
It’s a thing he does, watching me without being obvious, like I’m the center of his focus. The pent-up energy hangs between us like a threat, irrational and unchained.
It’s stupid, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to feel a connection with an asshole who’s out to ruin my life.
I’m not supposed to watch him watch me at breakfast with Izzy or when he’s working out in the backyard.
I’m not supposed to stay up late just to see him return and stand by his car for a second too long, staring up at my window as if searching for something.
Or someone.
Now, our gazes clash and collide. Mine is defiant an
d unbending, his is challenging and quiet.
I can’t help the shivers bursting down my spine or the heat invading the tiniest pores of my skin.
Staring at Asher is beyond gazes and eyes. It’s a war with weapons, blood, and casualties. It’s impossible to predict who’ll lose and who’ll win.
One thing’s for certain: I’ll never raise the white flag.
I’ll pick my battles instead.
Breaking eye contact, I make a beeline toward a back table where the rest of the cheerleaders sit. ‘The less popular ones,’ as Bree so eloquently put it.
I smile when joy breaks out on the girls’ faces. I hate that the others put them down and that I never cared to see happiness on their faces before.
Lucy slides in beside me, shaking her head. “You do know you can’t avoid the main table forever, right?”
“I’m not avoiding it. I just don’t want to sit with them.” I take a bite of my pizza and chew slowly.
Screw salads. So what if I don’t get thrown in the air anymore? It’s not like I’ve been dying to return to that ‘epic’ position.
“Are you coming back to the captain position?” Cindy, a sophomore, asks with a timid voice.
“I don’t know.” And I really don’t. Cheerleading isn’t my goal in life. True, I’m still not sure what my actual goal is, but cheerleading is definitely not it.
Besides, this is senior year. They’ll have to elect a new captain soon. Doing it at the beginning or the end of the year shouldn’t make a difference.
My gaze strays to the ‘main’ table. Bree sits on Asher’s right, running her red-manicured fingers along his bicep…his strong, veiny bicep. She giggles at something he says like some silly teenager with a crush.
He’s eating while throwing glances her way.
Something boils in my bloodstream, turning it all hot and green.
How can Bree, who claims I’m her best friend, flirt with my fiancé right in front of me?
Not that I want to sit next to Asher. Ever.
But still, I don’t like people stepping all over me, especially fake friends like Bree.
“At this rate, there will be a division in the squad.” There’s a sadness in Lucy’s voice as she plays with a fork on her salad plate.
“Correction.” Naomi slams her plate down and sits across from me. She usually doesn’t even eat in the cafeteria. “Lucy is too nice to tell you there’s already a division in the squad.” Naomi points at the cheerleaders, the boys and girls sitting with Bree. “Bitch Uno’s Team.” She motions at our table. “Bitch Dos’ Team.”