I swallow a sob that tries to bubble up. I will not let him get to me. So what if I got a little wet? That he threatened me? They’re just words. He can’t hurt me. Or they already would have.
I wipe the tears and water off my face as my teeth chatter, and I unzip the bag. There’s a pair of my white denim jean shorts and a dark purple tank top. No bra or clean underwear. I stare at them in my hands.
Where did they get these?
Had they been to my house? Did they sneak in while my father was at work? A thought hits me, and I fist my clothes. They have a key.
“Motherfucker.”
They could have walked right in. I gave one to Scout a couple of years back. He came and went as he pleased. My father didn’t care and liked him around. My brother was already away at college, and I think my father missed a guy being at the house. I once came home from a party and found Scout grilling steaks with my father out back. I remember being pissed at him because he was supposed to go to the party with me, but he had chosen to hang with my father instead.
Was this the real threat? Leaving this clue to remind me they have access to my house? That’s how the doll got left there Friday night? They, or one of them, went there, grabbed my clothes, and placed the doll on my bed.
The door flies open, and I jump to my feet, shielding my body since the soaked clothing clings to me. I let out a sigh when I see it’s Lacey.
“How did you know I was in here?” I ask, teeth chattering.
“I was walking by as Scout walked out of the gym. What the fuck did they do to you?” she demands, her blue eyes looking over my soaked form. I’m sure I look like a drowned rat with makeup running down my face.
I wave her off. “I’m fine.”
“Henley …”
“It’s just water,” I repeat my thoughts to her, trying to convince both of us that although my cheeks are hurting from Dax’s hand and the entire left side of my body aches from them throwing me, I’m okay. It could have been much worse. “I’ll be fine. Find me a towel please. I need to dry off and get out of these clothes.” And I need to hurry before the bell rings, and guys start piling in and find me wet or naked before their gym class.
She comes back, holding up a towel to shield me from the door, and I quickly peel myself out of my clothes. Then she hands me the towel to quickly dry off while she wrings them out in one of the many sinks. “Did they touch you?” she asks softly.
“No,” I answer, pulling the shorts up and hating the fact that I don’t have any underwear. The material is going to rub my pussy raw. Maybe that is just one of their plans.
“What did they want?” she continues.
“I don’t know,” I lie. They demanded to know why I tried to make them jealous. But that’s not the truth either. They knew why I did it; they just wanted me to admit it. Pulling my shirt up and over my head, I throw my towel into one of the many hampers and shove my wet clothes back into the bag.
“Why would they get you wet but bring you new clothes?” She’s looking me up and down. My socks are still wet but better than when I was sitting in the shower. Plus, my shoes. The fuckers only brought me so many dry items. On purpose, I’m sure.
“I have no clue,” I say honestly, biting my lower lip.
“Maybe they put a bug on them.”
“A bug?” I arch a brow, unable to chuckle at her suggestion.
She nods quickly. “They’ve had something sewn into the seam, and now they can track your every move.”
“I think you watch too many stalker movies,” I say even though I know nothing about this girl. Obviously, she has a vivid imagination or a sketchy past.
I toss the bag over my shoulder. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Pushing open the door, I look over at the basketball court. The bleachers on all three sides have been pushed back to allow more access to the court. “We don’t have much—”
The bell rings, interrupting me, and I curse. “Let’s go.” We make a mad dash across the court and shove the double doors open into the busy hall.
Kids are at their lockers getting ready for their next classes. I turn to face her. “Thank you for helping me out.” My chest tightens due to the fact that I wasn’t able to help Brenda the way Lacey just helped me. I just stood there, confused and drunk. I could have done something, and that’s what makes it so much worse.