“You’re 18.” My voice shakes again as I shove his hand away, but it doesn’t make my words any less true. “When I report you for rape, it’s gonna be much worse than a football suspension.”
Carter doesn’t appear to be intimidated, but he does appear to be amused. “Oh, you won’t report me, Zoey. You’re not that stupid. I think you know if you fuck with me, my retribution will be much worse than cornering you and fucking you in an abandoned classroom.”
I swallow, my chest working. I don’t know that, but my stomach sinks because I can’t help believing him. “Raping me, you mean. This isn’t fucking. If you do this, this is rape. It’s a violation, it’s a crime. You’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life.”
“Let me count all the fucks I give,” he says, so cavalier.
“Hey, maybe we’re takin’ this a little too far,” Jake finally realizes.
Fucking finally!
“Maybe we’re not taking it far enough,” Carter counters. “She just threatened me, and you know what, Parsons? I don’t like being threatened.”
“If you stop now, I promise not to report anybody. I won’t say a word,” I offer, only because I’m starting to suspect Carter might be a full-blown psychopath. I’m beginning to worry how far he might take this if I keep pushing back. It started at groping and intimidation, some humiliation, threats, and bullying; very quickly, it’s progressing to full-on gang-rape with Carter egging Jake on.
What’s the next escalation? Murder? Carter will convince Jake the only way to ensure my silence is to snap my neck and toss my body into a river?
I’ll be the girl on the news.
The town will light candles and hold a vigil, girls who hate me will muster tears when they tell news anchors what great friends we were, and my sobbing mother will stammer about how she can’t imagine who would do such a thing to me, how I was such a nice girl, how everyone loved me. In a few months, the town will forget me, my family will have to leave to escape the pain and try to start over, and the only lives ruined will be ours. Carter will be crowned prom king, Jake will play college ball, and I’ll get a full-page memorial spread in the senior yearbook.
Cold fear slices through me. I don’t want to be treated like this, but I don’t want to lose my life to these entitled scumbags either, and I know enough about psychology to understand Carter could convince Jake and Shayne to do something they would never do on their own. He’s appealing to their group mentality, making it them vs. me, and painting me as the bad guy. The logic doesn’t have to hold up; it only has to make sense long enough for them to act rashly, and at the rate he moves, that wouldn’t take long at all.
They could literally kill me, and I would be just another easily forgotten statistic. My life lost, all so these assholes can play a damn sport despite their horrible behavior.
Carter watches me as these thoughts flit through my mind. He’s dangerous. These other two, they’re nothing sinister, harmless assholes left to their own devices, but not with him leading them like stupid horses to a poisoned well. I never saw it in him before, but then I’ve never spent any time with Carter Mahoney. I see the same superficial side of him everyone else sees—the wealthy, privileged quarterback with a golden arm. I’ve never looked twice at him, so how would I have noticed a monster lurking beneath the surface?
I try to take a more conciliatory tone when I address him. He’s like a rabid junkyard dog with a bone, and I need him to unclench his jaws so I can run away. “Look, I don’t want to go to war with you, Carter. I don’t even have a problem with you. This is supposed to be between me and Jake.”
Carter ignores my attempt to make peace and glances at Jake.
“She’s a stickler for consequences, this one,” Carter muses aloud, like he can read my mind. Like he knows why all of a sudden I’m trying to backpedal with him. “I’m wondering if it’s safe for any of us to let her go, Parsons.”
“It is,” I offer quickly. “If you let me go now, we can act like this never happened. Just stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you.”
“Yeah?” Carter asks calmly, flicking his thumb across my nipple and watching my face as I gasp at the sensation. “You’ll sit in history class with me tomorrow and keep your pretty little mouth shut if I let you go?”
My heart thuds in protest, but I ignore it. The time for protest has passed. It’s degrading to nod when he worded it that way, but that’s why he did it. He wants to humiliate me. I don’t care anymore. I just want to get the hell out of here. I need this whole awful experience to be over.