“Your father lied about that djinn,” I yell, swinging at him again. This time I get a hit to the side of his head and he stumbles to the side, clutching at his face. “He didn’t capture it. My parents did!”
Another swing, another hit, this one to his elbow. I can tell his whole arm goes numb when he drops it to his side. “And all he did,” I scream, leaping forward, smacking him in the ribs, “is—watch—my—parents—die!” With each word I land another hit to his ribs. On the last one he falls again, cradling his useless arm, gasping for breath.
He looks up at me. There’s anger in his blue eyes as he meets my gaze.
“Maybe they deserved to die,” he spits.
Time seems to grind to a halt. The staff falls from my hands. My body moves on its own. I’m running, leaping onto Piers’ crumpled form, my hands slipping around his neck. He’s screaming, but I can’t hear the sound of it over the rush of my own blood in my ears.
I pull my arm back and punch him full in the face, my other hand still wrapped around his neck. I lean my weight onto my hand, crushing his windpipe as I pull back for another punch.
“AVERY!” someone screams from behind me, but I’m no longer Avery. I’m no longer a thinking, functioning human. I’m a being of pure rage.
I pull my arm back again and again—over and over my fist pounds down onto any part of Piers it can reach. I don’t know what I’m hitting. I’m choking away his screams. He can only make gurgling noises as I beat him to a pulp. My knuckles are sore. My eyes are clouded. I see glimpses of red blood on green grass.
Huge arms wrap around my waist and pull me up. Now it’s me who’s screaming. I kick backward at the body I’m being held against, claw at the arm imprisoning me. I’m being dragged backward and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs. My throat grows raw, my hands flailing as I try desperately to reach Piers again; to crush his throat, to gouge his eyes, to hurt him as much as I can.
Somewhere through the fog of rage I hear Davies yelling about detention. The person dragging me might as well be a brick wall—I can’t get them to let me go. People are converging on Piers, helping him sit up. Someone has bandages. I go limp and allow myself to be carried away. My breathing is ragged, my heart is pounding, and my ears are ringing.
Finally, I get enough presence of mind to twist around and see who’s carrying me. Bennett glances down at me, his brows forming a deep furrow across his forehead. Of course it’s him. Who else is strong enough to restrain a ball of anger?
He doesn’t set me down until we’re in the PW locker room, a prefab building set up in the woods. Mechanically, I head to my locker, not really knowing what I’m doing. All the adrenaline is turning into something sour that leaves my head spinning even as my thoughts start to clear.
Bennett follows me.
“Avery,” he says softly, and it’s like I’m suddenly myself again. I feel exhausted. All the energy drains out of me all at once.
“What?” I mean it to sound angry, or even distant, but instead it comes out in a quiet sigh. Defeated.
“What Piers said was wrong.”
“Damn right it was,” I snap. I start twisting the combination lock on my locker, but my hands are shaking too much. I fumble with it for a few seconds before turning to face Bennett. Every bit of his face is radiating concern.
“What we did to you was wrong,” he says, stepping close to me.
/> I crane my neck to look up at him—he’s so tall his head almost brushes the ceiling of the little building.
“I know the way we treated you last year was wrong,” he says. “And I’m sorry for my part in it.”
He’s so big, so muscular, that I forget how soft-spoken and eloquent he can be. I don’t know how to respond. My throat aches. I’m not even sure I have a voice right now.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten,” he whispers, stepping closer, his voice growing deep and husky. “That doesn’t detract from the fact that there was once—” he’s closer now “—something—” closer now, almost touching “—between us.”
I remember. I remember that night in the village, pressed against the wall of the pub. I remember Piers, Owen, Bennett, their bodies intertwined with mine, almost as inseparable from one another as they were from me. I remember the fire in my belly, the warmth of them against me. I remember kissing each one of them and not wanting it to end.
“Are you planning on holding this over us forever?” Bennet murmurs, so close he could press his forehead against mine. I wonder if I would pull away if he decides to.
“What do you mean?”
His hand twitches, moving towards mine, but it settles quickly back at his side. “I want to know that there’s hope. Hope that … maybe we can move on. Maybe we can move past all this.” His eyes flick to mine, and I almost get lost in them. They’re so dark I feel that I could fall into them and never escape. “I care about you, Avery.”
I care about you, too, I think immediately, surprising myself. It’s true; I really do care about him. But how am I supposed to get past what happened? How I move on?
After everything, how can my resolve shatter so quickly?
Bennett sees that I’m not answering him. He gives me a long, sad look, and then turns away, walking slowly out of the locker room. The door shuts behind him. I stand there for a long moment, part of me wishing he would walk back in … and another part hoping against hope that he won’t.
It’d be so much easier that way.