We come to the end of the hallway with either a left or right turn and it hits me that I have no fucking clue where the hell Monica’s homeroom. I don’t want to stop. My feet refuse to quit moving so when Noah murmurs a quick, “Barrett’s room,” I find myself finally seeing the one good thing that came out of Noah dating the girl for all that time.
I turn to the left and head straight for Mr. Barrett’s room. It’s towards the end of this hallway and I don’t doubt that by the time we get down there, she will already know that I’m coming.
The door to Barrett’s room is closed and we don’t waste a second storming through it. Barrett’s head whips up from the papers on his desk and I see a scolding on his lips, but the second he realizes who stands at the door, he backs right down.
The teachers at this school aren’t stupid. They know what’s good for them and they know when the hell to back down. Times exactly like this.
A loud gasp sails through the class and my eyes instantly follow the sound.
Monica. Otherwise known as ‘dead fucking meat.’
Her eyes widen as I zone in on her and without a doubt, she knows she’s finished. Right now, she’s breathing on borrowed time and I can’t wait to bring her down. Again. Let’s just hope she’s smart enough to stay down this time.
She sits towards the back of the room, in the furthest corner which I distantly realize is the further space possible from the three cheerleaders who sit across the other side of the room. Smart move on her part, if only she was smart enough not to challenge me again.
I cut up the closest aisle while Noah walks across the front of the room, taking the other aisle, blocking her way if she were to run.
Fear eats at her and I should feel sick knowing just how happy that makes me, but I don’t. I thrive on this shit, especially when it’s because of bitches like this.
The closer I get, the straighter she sits.
Three steps. She starts shaking her head as others sitting around her begin to pull away, terrified of getting caught in the middle.
“No. No, I didn’t…” Monica starts blabbering.
Two steps. She pulls back in her chair, her eyes flicking around the room in terror.
One step. She starts to rise, ready to make a break for it.
Too fucking late. The chance to run was after she jumped me, and she missed that shot by miles.
I rush in, slamming my hands down on either shoulder, forcing her back down into her chair. “I suggest you don’t fucking move,” I tell her.
Instinct has her fighting me off and the lesson Rivers had tried to teach me about thinking things through flies out the fucking window. I grab her by the back of the neck and slam her head down on the desk before me.
“I told you not to fucking move,” I seethe as Noah stands back, completely allowing me to take control. “You sent out that video. Is this what you want? To bring me down in front of the whole school? Because you know how I love to fight back. I’ve already taken you down, don’t think I won’t do it again.”
A thought flashes in my mind that I’m taking this too far and that it would be smart to back up a bit, but I can’t seem to stop myself. The pain from dad’s earlier revelation and the sting of watching myself on that video are too much for me too handle. My emotions are shoot and I’m desperate to get to the bottom this.
I can’t breathe. I need to see this through.
I need this to be over.
Monica sucks in a sharp breath as if only now realizing what a psycho bitch I can be. But hey, she’s the one who turned me into this.
Her eyes flick up to Noah and I see a silent plea, hoping that whatever history they have together is enough for him to sweep this under the rug. His only response is to fold his arms over his wide chest and raise his chin as he looks down at her through narrowed eyes. He looks scary as fuck, but I don’t blame him, this bitch just tried to hurt his queen.
Seeing that there’s no hope for her with Noah and no help coming from the other students in the room, she starts to backpedal. “I didn’t do it,” she cries. “The video wasn’t mine.”
I scoff. “Yeah fucking right. Do you forget who the bitch in that video is? You forget that I was there?” I squish her face harder into the desk. “You forget that it was my ribs you kicked over and over again?” I demand.