I shook my head, gripping the top of the stall door. No one was supposed to touch her.
“God, you weren’t even out of the house before the first one was inside me,” she said, digging deep. “I’ve been getting pounded all morning. Why don’t you get to class and leave us the fuck alone?”
I clenched my teeth, seeing her in my bed with a line of my father’s men taking their turns. Smiling at her. Enjoying her. Using her. Treating her like trash.
And I kicked the door. I kicked it again and again, growling until it gave way and swung open, hitting the wall behind it.
Fuck, yes. And just like that…everything relaxed. My limbs felt exhausted, and I saw my sister, in my room at home right now, fully dressed with her collar up to her neck, crying, and her books spilled onto the floor, because she was innocent, pure, and the sweetest girl I would ever know.
Everything she said, I made her say, because we could only feel one pain at a time, and maybe if I could pile on enough dirt, I’d get so buried I wouldn’t be able to think.
And sometimes, I could overpower whatever was in my head by making my own victims.
Like Miss Jennings. Like Banks. Maybe I didn’t like being alone, and I wouldn’t be if everyone else was as dirty as me.
At home, there were other things I’d ask her to do to stop the pain, but when she wasn’t in front of me we had to improvise.
The memories that had sprung up in Jennings’ room were so far way now, I couldn’t even remember what had set me off. I walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and pooled some water in my hand before taking a drink, feeling the cool water soothe the heat in my head.
The last twenty minutes never happened.
“Damon?” I heard Banks call. “Damon!”
I stood up straight and held the phone back up to my ear.
“Better?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I checked my face and hair in the mirror, seeing the rage start to fade, and my skin turn pale again. “Yeah...”
“Please stop making me do that…”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and hung up, ignoring her. What she wanted was ultimately unimportant. We would do what we had to do.
Straightening my clothes, I felt the phone vibrate in my hand again and looked to see who it was.
***Damon K. Torrance***
Please see Mr. Kincaid in the dean’s office before the first bell this morning.
cc: Gabriel Torrance
Thank you.
Goddammit.
I checked the time on my phone, seeing that I had eight minutes till bell. I wanted to smoke.
Sticking the phone in my back pocket, I let out a long breath and tilted my neck to each side, hearing it crack. Every time I got summoned, my father got the same text, keeping him abreast of whatever was going on as if he cared. He knew if it was important enough, they would call him directly. Which they had done plenty in my tenure at this school.
I used to want his attention. Now I just hated it when they reminded him that I existed. I wasn’t excited to leave town for college next summer, but I couldn’t wait to get out of that house, either.
So what bullshit did I do now that Kincaid needed to hassle me?
I left the bathroom, brushing the shoulder of another student as I crossed the hallway and entered the school office. Swinging the door open, I walked up to the long, dark wood counter and shot a glare to Mrs. Devasquez, the secretary.
“Have a seat,” she said, her short gray hair unmoving as she nodded to the chairs behind me. “The dean will call you when he’s ready.”
I simply turned around and propped my elbows up on the counter, waiting.