Girls like you, they don’t get out…
“What was it?” I ask Dixie, my teeth clenched so hard my jaw aches. I already know. But some masochistic part of me has to hear her say it.
“It’s a video,” Dixie whispers, her eyes full of sympathy, like she thinks I’m going to break down and cry.
But I’m not sad.
I’m pissed.
I storm down the hall, ignoring the snickers, the stares, the rude gestures. I don’t stop until I see Royal. He’s leaning casually against his locker, his buddies all around him. I’m too mad to care, to think, to consider repercussions or that I’m just giving them something more to laugh about, more fodder for the gossip mill. I don’t care anymore. I don’t even see their mocking faces. All I see is red.
I fly at Royal, shoving past his buddies and slamming my hands into his chest as hard as I can, trying to shove him down. He barely budges. An indulgent smirk plays over his lips as he grabs my hand when I try to push him again. “What’s the matter, Cherry Pie?” he asks, a taunt in his voice.
“How could you?” I snarl at him, shoving him again. Because what am I supposed to say? What can you say to something like this? There are no words for the shame, the hurt, the betrayal. I’m shaking with rage, because there’s not one fucking thing I can do about what he did. It’s already out there.
He chuckles in response. “Oh, was I supposed to keep your whore status a secret? Don’t worry, babe. Everyone already knew. I just confirmed it.”
I can’t think straight, can’t think of a response. All I want to do is make him hurt, make him feel a fraction of what I’m feeling. But he can’t hurt because he can’t feel anything. He’s a monster, and monster’s don’t have hearts.
“This isn’t a game,” I growl at him at last. “You’re ruining people’s lives, Royal.”
I try to pull my hand away, but his grip tightens. Fury explodes inside me, just like it did in class that day. He doesn’t care if he breaks my hand, if I can’t fight, if I can’t get money to get out of this town. He doesn’t care that he released a video that colleges will see when they search my name, that will keep me from getting into a good school, from ever leaving this town. But I care. I reach back with my other hand, and I slap him across the face.
The crack sounds all the way down the hall, and there’s a shocked intake of breath from the crowd gathered to watch the drama. Royal’s head jerks to one side with the force of the blow. My palm stings, but I don’t feel the pain. My fists ball up, still trembling with fury.
In one motion, Royal grabs my throat and spins around, slamming me up against the locker. His fingers tighten, cutting off the blood to my brain, making me lightheaded as his palm presses in on my windpipe until I can’t breathe. I struggle, but he’s too strong, too big. He leans close, watching me the way he did at the tracks the first time I met him, when he told me he could kill me. I remember that even as my brain starts to shut down, deprived of oxygen.
Royal leans close, his nose caressing mine with taunting gentleness as he watches me struggle for breath. “Think about this the next time you think you can hit me,” he murmurs. “And then know that my dick will be inside you while I choke you out if it happens again.”
I fight to stay conscious, to hold his gaze and reach something deeper inside him, beneath the cold, steely surface of his eyes. I try to speak, to beg, but his hand chokes off my voice. So, I struggle in silence, trying to communicate with my eyes, to reach the scared little boy hiding in a darkness so deep he’s forgotten the necessity of light.
I’m the only one who can crawl through that darkness, as familiar as my own soul, to reach him. But I need time, I need oxygen, I need strength to keep going. As I strain for breath, my nails biting into his skin until he bleeds, I think maybe it’s too late. Too late to find something alive inside those cold, dead eyes that watch his own blood trickle down my fingers without so much as blinking. I know he’s trapped inside there, behind the monster. That he sees that I’m suffering, that I’m dying. That he cares. I’m sure he does.
But he’s too far gone.
His eyes lock on mine, and he clenches his fingers tighter, pushing me down into the darkness, the emptiness. The blackness begins to swallow me, sucking me into the hollow pit of his soul. “Life’s a game, darling,” he whispers. “You just got played.”
*