I don’t have time to wonder why Devlin hasn’t told them that part.
“Liar,” Preston says, his expression settling into a scary calm. “See, that’s another problem with you. You’re slippery as fuck. We keep putting you in your place, and you keep popping up instead of staying where you belong—under our bootheels.”
“Maybe that’s because that’s not where I belong,” I shoot back. “And you’re just too proud to admit you made a mistake. I’m not a dog, and neither is any other girl at this school. Why do you have to keep people in line anyway, Preston? Is it so scary to imagine someone could be your equal?”
He snorts, dragging me across the gym as I balk and try to dig my heels in. “No one is our equal, Lassie. Least of all, you.”
“Are you afraid all your dogs might go savage and eat you?” I yank backwards as he reaches a door, and I see the sign on it, and my heart stops. He shoves the door open with his shoulder and drags me through, into the boys’ locker room.
“Every dog can be broken,” he says. “You’re just harder to train than a good dog. Dixie, she was a good dog. Just shut up and took it. You’re a difficult bitch. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be broken. It just makes it sweeter to watch you crumble like a cookie when you do.”
“My brothers will be in here looking for me any minute,” I say, my heart racing and panic clawing inside my skin.
“I don’t think so,” Preston says, yanking me so hard my shoulder threatens to separate if I don’t follow him. I stumble after him as he shoves me into a shower, still gripping my wrist so hard my fingers have gone numb. “See, they’re going to be held a little longer than everyone else, since it’s their first game tonight. They’ll be out of the way. And the rest of the guys… Well, they deserve a little treat before the game. They’ve worked so hard.”
“Let me go,” I say, though I’ve been struggling so hard my arm is losing strength, tiring itself out. I’m not weak, but Preston’s a guy, bigger and stronger than I am by a long shot.
But he only has one good arm. I don’t waste any time thinking about it. I ball my free hand into a fist and slam it as hard as I can into his broken arm.
twenty-six
Crystal
Preston’s howl of pain is music to my ears. I don’t even feel bad for him as I duck around him and dart out the door of the locker room, leaving him hunched over his arm spewing curses. I’m halfway across the gym when I hear the door bang open behind me. I don’t look back. I just run.
As I reach out to push open the doors of the gym, they disappear from under my hands, and I crash headlong into a man I vaguely recognize as one of the football coaches. I stumble backwards, pinwheeling my arms for balance. Before I can completely regain my footing, an arm clamps around me from behind, pinning me to a body that’s hard with muscle and shaking with rage.
“Help me,” I blurt out, struggling against him.
The coach frowns and looks from me to Preston as if weighing how much this will cost him.
“This is Darling business,” Preston says, his breathing still labored from the pain. “Don’t come back until after practice.”
“No,” I cry. “You have to help me.”
The coach looks away.
My hope crumbles as he shuffles his feet and then backs out of the gym, letting the heavy door fall closed in my face. My rapid breathing echoes through the gym as I kick and struggle while Preston carries me across the room, my arms pinned at my sides and my legs pistoning, striking his shins with every step he takes. When he reaches the locker room, he hurls me against the door. I have no time to react, to prepare. One moment I’m straining to break free, and the next, he uses that momentum to throw me forward. I smash into the wood, my face connecting at the same moment as my hands. The door flies inward, and I topple to my knees, too stunned to move before he’s on me, his hand fisting my hair. Blood drips from my nose onto the white tile between my hands.
“You had to be a bitch,” he growls, dragging me across the tile floor. “Now, you pay for your sins and the sins of your father.”
He lifts me by my hair and shoves me into the tiled shower stall where he had me before. My head knocks into the tile, and I struggle to hold my skirt down as Preston yanks my legs out from under me.
“No,” I scream, kicking out at him.
He pulls out a knife, grabs my foot with the hand of his broken arm, sucking in a breath through the pain. I can’t imagine how much it hurts him to use that hand right now, but I don’t bother trying. Something primal takes over inside me when he reaches up my skirt with that knife. I just… Lose it.
I lurch to my feet, panic stealing every thought from my mind. I have no need for pride, for the pretense of poise. I’m an animal, trapped with my back against the wall. I fight. I knock the knife from his hand. I hit and scratch, kick, bite, scream. There’s only white, blind panic. Preston shoves me back over and over, until my head connects with the tile hard enough to make blackness take over my vision. My knees give way, and it’s through a fog of dizziness that I feel Preston yank my hands up. He’s sitting on my chest, and I can’t breathe. I’m drowning in my own blood. I struggle, and the world gets dimmer.
When it begins to clear, I feel him lifting me. Something cuts into my wrists, and my shoulders are yanked up. I struggle to gain my footing, grateful when I’m pulled upwards. I sway on my feet, unbalanced because my arms are pulled over my head. I yank at my hands, only to find them tied above my head, attached to the showerhead coming out of the wall.
“Let me go,” I say, my voice strangled with a sob that hasn’t made its way out.
I hear Preston behind me and twist around to see him picking up the knife I knocked away.
“The harder you fight, the worse you make it for yourself,” he says, his breath coming fast from the fight. “But you have to be a cunt every minute of your life. You can’t just break like a normal person. So, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
He steps up behind me, his hot breath on my neck sending shivers of cold terror through my entire body. His arm snakes around me, the clumsy cast grazing my other hip. I whimper in fear as the cold edge of his knife brushes the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Preston’s psychotic chuckle meets my ears as he leans even closer. Slowly, he slides the knife higher. I close my eyes. I can’t do this. I can’t. I have to die before he does this to me. The tip of his blade presses between my thighs, and a panting sob escapes me.