I feel him swallow hard before asking, “Did Ains tell you about the events leading up to Carissa’s death?”
I slowly shake my head. “She said the rest was Bentley’s story to tell.”
He says nothing for a long moment, before tapping my hip, prompting me to get up. “Let’s take a little walk.”
I scan the people sitting in a circle around the fire. The combination of music floating from the house and the buzz of conversation should prevent anyone from hearing us, but I can understand Kingston’s need for privacy. I have a feeling this story’s going to be a doozy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
JAZZ
Kingston and I stroll down the beach a little until we’re far enough away from prying ears. He props himself on one of the boulders edging the beach, pulls me down onto his lap again, and wastes no time getting to the story.
“Bentley blames himself for her suicide.”
I twist my upper body so I can see his face. “What?! Why?”
“It’d probably be easier to understand if I start from the beginning,” he says. “We were all in the same kindergarten class. The guys and I become friends on day one, same with Ainsley and Carissa. Since Ains and I have always been close, the five of us spent a lot of time together throughout our childhood. I think Bent and Rissa fell in love before any of us understood what that meant.”
Poor Bentley. Losing someone you love dearly is hard enough. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be when that person takes their own life.
“What happened to her?”
"Oddly enough, Bentley and Rissa were never officially a couple. Carissa refused to give them that label because she was supposedly afraid it'd ruin their friendship. That was complete horse shit, in my opinion, because whenever one of them wasn't dating someone else, they'd act like they were a couple in every way. They lost their virginity to each other, for fuck’s sake. And if one of them was hooking up with someone else, it’d never last long because they preferred to be with each other.
"It was all very strange, and probably more than a little toxic, but there was no doubt they loved each other fiercely. In retrospect, I think Carissa refused to take the plunge because she was insecure. Maybe she figured if Bentley slept around enough during his teenage years, they could be together afterward. The irony in that whole situation is that Bentley was crazy about the girl; I don't think that would've ever changed. He didn't want anyone else, but when he saw Rissa hooking up with other guys, he’d get pissed and act out.
"They had this huge fight one night. Bent got invited to a frat party, and he was told to bring some friends, especially girls, to even out the ratio. Carissa didn't want to go. Her older sister was in college and warned her about all the crazy shit that goes down in frat houses. She didn't want Bentley to go either, probably because she didn't want him fucking someone else." He takes a deep breath. "But...we went anyway and got completely shitfaced."
"Uh-oh. What happened?" I squeeze Kingston's thigh, encouraging him to continue.
“At some point in the night, pictures starting showing up on Instagram. We were tagged in most of them, so Carissa got a front-row seat to the half-naked sorority chicks hanging all over Bent and Reed. We all lied about our age, so those girls had no idea the guys were barely old enough to drive.”
“Just Bentley and Reed?” I ask. “I find that hard to believe.”
I feel Kingston shrug. "I was already with Peyton at that point, and she was with us. Peyton wouldn't leave my side, so it was pretty obvious I was off-limits. Anyway, unbeknownst to us, Carissa saw the pictures online and drove up to the party, planning to drag Bentley out."
“What happened when sh
e got there?”
Kingston hugs me tighter. “When Rissa walked in, one of the sorority chicks was giving Bentley head, right there in the middle of the main floor. I honestly believe he was so fucked up, he barely knew what was happening. Bentley never knew Carissa was there. I saw her, but I didn’t do anything when she ran off crying because I had assumed she was going home. I thought it was their normal on again, off again, jealousy bullshit.”
“I don’t think I like where this is heading. Where did she wind up?”
“She stayed at the party. I think she was on a mission to hurt Bentley because he hurt her. We found out after the fact that she didn’t leave the frat house until the next day. She was picked up by Campus Security sometime that afternoon because she was wandering around in a daze, crying and mumbling to herself.”
Kingston doesn't need to say another word. I know, without a doubt, what happened. Bentley's extreme reaction to my attack and his adamant denial of drugging me makes so much sense now. I don't even realize I'm crying until Kingston kisses my trailing tears.
“She was roofied?”
Kingston takes a deep breath. “Yep. We never found out exactly how many men raped her, but Rissa’s body was... whatever happened, it was pretty brutal. She was so confused at first, she refused to go to the hospital or the police. Campus Security tried convincing her to get checked out, but she demanded to leave. Rissa later told Ainsley all she could think about was getting their scent off of her. She scrubbed so hard with a loofah, she gave herself friction burns on close to half her body.”
I wince. “Jesus.”
"Yeah." He clears his throat. "When she told her parents a few days later, they immediately took her to the hospital, and the hospital staff subsequently contacted the police. Unfortunately, Carissa had washed off any DNA that may have been left behind, and the drug was already out of her system, so she had no proof. When the police investigated, every single person living in that frat house claimed they had never met her, that she was never there. I told the police differently, but it was two people's word against many.
“After that night, the only person Rissa would confide in was Ainsley. She refused to see us, even Bentley, which killed him. Ains thinks Carissa couldn’t handle being around any men because she’d avoid her dad, too, whenever possible. My sister was afraid to leave Rissa alone with no one to talk to, so she practically moved into her house. It’s the only reason we know as much as we do.