VIOLET
After what happened, Sariah did not want to talk. And I tried. Henri tried. Ollie tried. She did not want to talk. She did not want to address what happened. Not since the cops nor the fucking dean didn’t want to do anything. We’d been determined. We’d been ready to write to news stations, to write petitions. Ollie had offered to, “ruin his life and his credit,” and fuck with his trust fund and stock options. Although I worried about what kind of crimes would be committed in order to do that, I’d been all for it.
But Sariah banned us all from doing anything. It was the one time since that morning, since that horrible morning, that she’d broken down.
We were all scared. None of us knew what the right thing to do was, but we knew the wrong thing was forcing her to talk, to take action when she wasn’t ready. We had meetings about it. We agreed to watch her, be there for her and wait.
Then when it became clear she was going to deal with this by acting like nothing happened and party harder than normal—and normal was already a lot, even for college—each of us made sure we were available to go to these parties with her and not leave her alone for a moment.
Henri and Ollie weren’t staying for summer classes, so it was just her and me in the house. I was trying my best to keep up with her and still keep up with my classes.
She was partying away her problems. And even though I was slightly more aware of it, I was too.
I had not spoken to my father since his visit. Had not heard the even, deep cadence of Elden’s voice. It left me feeling untethered, fearful as ever about my place in the world.
So I partied.
Until the day of the costume party that migrated to a bar we had become regulars at. Everything had been fine. We were going to do shots and order cheeseburgers.
Then Sariah went pale. Even the rouge she was wearing as part of her costume seemed to melt away. She shrunk. All the way down. Which seemed impossible in the platform heels she was wearing. But she did it.
And I did not think. Not about anything. Except the way my friend shrunk. The way that her smile had been forced lately. That she hadn’t been sleeping. That the clothes she loved, that communicated her personality, had been a lot more conservative. Covered more of her. Like she was trying to disappear under them.
All I thought was that my friend was shrinking, and the fucking asshole responsible for it was leaning against the bar, laughing and acting like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Then I wasn’t thinking about anything. I was punching him in his stupid face.
I didn’t expect things to escalate as far as they did. Though I was mighty proud of all the licks I got in. I wasn’t entirely sure how I got hold of the pool cue that I was beating him with, but I was happy it found its way into my hands.
I probably wouldn’t have stopped beating him until people finally pulled me off him. I was still very pissed. By the time the police got there, I was even more pissed. And I may’ve made them aware of that fact. With my fists. Which pissed them off and got me arrested. Which caused me to do a lot more yelling about how they were arresting me and not the pussy crying about a broken nose and a couple of cracked ribs. Maybe I threatened to hunt someone down and kill them. I couldn’t be sure.
So yeah, that’s how I spent the night in jail.
I used my phone call to call Sariah to make sure she was okay. She was. She was very upset, though. Blamed herself.
She was in the lobby of the police station, so I could actually hear her through the hall as she became more hysterical on the phone. Time was spent trying to convince her that none of it was her fault. More time was spent convincing her to go home and get some sleep before she got arrested too. It was almost impossible to convince her, but I did… Only after threatening to harm her new Chanel purse.
That had done it. I’d also ordered her to call one of our friends, Keelie, who was also doing summer classes to come and sit with her at home.
Then some uppity asshole told me I’d taken too long. I probably should’ve asked her to get me a lawyer or whatever you were meant to do when you got arrested, but I was sure it would get worked out in the morning. They couldn’t hold me forever.
I quietly seethed in the cell for the rest of the night, thinking about all the ways I was going to expose these asshole cops and make sure they got what they deserved.
Those thoughts were so intricate that I didn’t even notice the officer unlocking the door of the cell until it creaked open.
“You made bail,” he glared at me.
“Nice shiner,” I flashed him a cynical smile
His entire form stiffened, and he moved to stand in the doorway so I couldn’t pass. I didn’t flinch, even though I felt a flutter of fear. It was still early morning, there was no one else around. This fuck already made it clear he didn’t respect women, but I didn’t think even he was brazen enough to lay a hand on me. You never knew, though. I’d humiliated him.
Humiliated misogynists were dangerous.
“What are you gonna do, buddy?” I asked sweetly, leaning forward. “I fucking dare you to lay a hand on me. It would make my case a cake walk, and once my lawyers are done with you, you won’t even be able to work as a mall cop.”
And I would. I had my father’s money. I had a trust fund that I didn’t want to rely on, but I was happy to use it to hire a ridiculously expensive lawyer to do exactly as I promised.
The cop glared at me a beat longer before stepping aside.