A jock, a nameless face I recognized from the party. When he walked beside me, I thought he was going to shoulder-check me, but he didn’t—no, what he did instead was much worse. He grabbed my upper arm so swiftly and suddenly, gave me a good yank, and made me drop all of my books on the floor.
The hall was still busy, and I knew quite a few other students saw him grab me, but no one said anything. No one lifted a finger to stop him or try to help me.
And then, before I knew what was happening, he started pulling me backwards. My heart rate instantly spiked, and since I was being pulled, my feet fought to march forward. I couldn’t escape the iron grip this kid had on me, and he pulled me around a corner within moments, causing me to lose sight of my books on the floor.
“What the fuck,” I called out, trying to peel his fingers off me as I struggled to stay upright, but he kept pulling me along. “Let me go.”
Oh, he let me go all right, but only after he pulled me into a locker room and practically threw me to the dirty floor. The guys’ locker room, based on the smell and the jockstraps I saw hanging out of a few of the lower lockers.
I hurried to get on my feet, spinning to face the boy who’d brought me here. He stood at least a foot taller than me, looking a bit too dark for my liking. The expression he wore…it was not a good one, and a pit began to grow in my stomach. I was about to say something—though I honestly had no idea what to say to this prick—when two more guys filed in behind him, both wide and muscular in the way jocks were.
And from the lack of sound anywhere else in the locker room, we were alone.
Fuck.
It took everything in me to speak calmly, “Don’t tell me you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.”
If ever there was a stereotype that was true, it was the fact that rich white boys could do whatever they wanted to whoever they wanted, and no one would believe the victim after their money created a smear campaign or got the judge on their side.
Who would ever stop and listen to me if I said three Midpark High boys had cornered me and forced themselves on me? Who would care, besides my mom? The cameras in the hall would show the blonde kid in the middle dragging me through the halls, but that’s it. There were no cameras in the locker room, for privacy purposes. The actual crime would not be caught on tape, so these boys would be free to twist my story as much as they wanted.
The one who’d dragged me in here shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Brit promised us some fun. Since you held out on us at the party, I figured we should get to the fun stuff now.” He playfully shoved the boys beside him as a sick smile grew on his face, a laugh echoing from his wide chest.
Wow. So he wasn’t even pretending that he wasn’t going to hurt me. Good to know where I stood with these guys. Good to know they literally could not think less of me.
They wouldn’t feel an ounce of regret after this. They wouldn’t give a single shit. They would go on with their lives as if this had been just a normal Monday, like they didn’t just hurt someone else in the worst way possible.
I had no smart remarks left. There was nothing to say, and no way to get out of this. Don’t get me wrong—the moment one of those goons stepped closer to me, I’d lash out, try to fight, but being realistic, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep them off me.
I was fucked, and I hated everyone at this fucking school. Where was Dante when I needed him to kick some ass and stab some jocks?
His two friends came at me, on both sides. I took a few steps back, my spine slamming into the lockers behind me as they each grabbed an arm. I pulled, I struggled, I did everything I could to break free, but there was no getting out of this. There was no escape. I could scream, but that was assuming someone would be walking by in the hall, hear, and actually care enough to come in.
No one in this school cared about me. Not really. Not about the real me, and knowing I was so alone hurt.
They held onto me with a strength I simply could not match, and even with the adrenaline, the fear pumping through my body, I was no match. How could I be? This was a game nature had rigged in the opposite direction.
I should scream. I should call for help. I should do something besides futilely struggle against Jock 1 and Jock 2.
The blonde who’d dragged me here flashed a smile as he walked closer, and I met his smile with one of my own, though I was pretty sure I looked more like a rabid animal than anything. He sauntered over to me, eyeing me up appreciatively, like he’d hit the jackpot of victims. A pretty girl, all alone, his friends nearby to help him and then take part after he’d had me first.
“Awe,” the blonde spoke, “loosen up. This is going to be fun.”
Maybe for him, but not so much for me.
He stood less than two feet from me, and as his friends chuckled beside me, I did the only thing I could think of to do, given my proximity to the blonde. His friends might’ve been holding back my arms, but my legs were still free. I wasn’t on the ground yet.
With everything I had in me, I swung a foot off the ground, lifting my right leg up as fast and as strong as I could, putting everything behind the swing. The blonde jock hadn’t expected that, and the moment my foot collided with his precious jewels, he fell back and buckled over, almost immediately turning blue in the face as he winced and generally failed to shake it off.
“Fuck,” he muttered, grasping those precious bits between his legs. His look turned murderous. “Get her on the ground.”
The two behind me complied with the blonde’s order, and I was forced down. The other jocks knelt over my arms, pulling them taut. It took a few moments for the blonde to overcome the pain in his sack—and I bet it wasn’t truly gone yet, but he’d power through the pain like a trooper to make sure I knew my place here.
Hint, it was apparently on the gross and grimy floor.
“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” the blonde muttered, kneeling over me as he worked on his pants. All of my struggling was for nothing; the two guys holding me down would not let up. Within a moment, his pants were down, just his boxers left.
My eyes stared holes in the ceiling when I felt his grubby fingers move to start working on my pants. To be honest, never did I hate the feeling of my pants being yanked down more. Even when I was with Archer, it didn’t feel like this. It wasn’t like this. That was me making a mistake, but I’d wanted it, wanted him.
This? No one in their mind would want this, save for the three rapists holding me down.
A cold blast of air swept between my legs when my panties were pulled down, and I fought the urge to shiver and squeeze my thighs shut. No amount of thigh-squeezing would stop this.
“What?” the blonde sneered. “Not going to scream? Not even going to try to cry for help?” His shoulders shook with laughter. “Not like anyone would come—”
I swear, the next few seconds took years to pass by. My eyelids shut, and I wrestled with the feeling of helplessness, knowing there was nothing I could do. All I knew was, I was literally going to kill that bitch.
But then, before anything could happen, before the blonde jock could stick anything in me, someone else burst through the locker room door—two someones, actually. One concerned face, and another trying to keep him out. Another jock who was supposed to keep guard just outside, apparently, and someone who thought it was his business to get in here, anyways.
I’d give you one guess as to who the intruder was, one guess to pick who it had to be. Not Vaughn, not Dante and his switchblade—the one person I didn’t really care to see ever again, not after what he did to me, and certainly not after dismissing me this past weekend yet again.
Archer. He’d looked better, bits of his face bruised from his little tiff with Dante. Still, even though I shouldn’t be, I was happy to see him. Happy only in that he had interrupted something terrible.
“Man, just leave,” the fourth boy was telling him. “Isn’t your girlfriend waiting for you?” He tried to block what was happening, but Archer p
ushed him aside.
“What the fuck, Ryan,” Archer swore as the blonde on top of me—apparently Ryan—fumbled to get off me.
Ryan was hurriedly trying to put himself away. “Look, this isn’t any of your business. Just turn around and walk away—”
Archer’s hands were fists at his side, and he managed to sound ridiculously intimidating as he growled out, “The only way I’m going to walk out of here is if Jaz comes with me. It’s over, dude.”
It was a moment before Ryan rolled his eyes, gesturing for the two holding my arms down to get off me. The minute my arms were free, I yanked my pants up and buttoned my jeans, still caught between Ryan’s buddies and Ryan himself.
“The bitch has it coming,” Ryan spat out. “This isn’t over.” And yet, even with his whispered threat, he stepped aside, letting me away from his friends. Me. I was the bitch he was talking about, as if I’d done something personal to him and his friends.
Goddamn it. I hadn’t done anything except hook up with Archer. These insane kids needed to get a grip on reality and realize shit happened—that didn’t give them a right to try to rape me. I was furious.
Furious, and yet, as I pushed out of the locker room with Archer at my side, I fought back tears.
I wasn’t one to cry, but that…something like that would make even the strongest of women cry.
I walked with a purpose, my skin feeling cold, like I was still on the floor in that locker room, the two guys still holding me down. I would give anything to shake the feeling off, to bleach the memory from my brain, but as I walked, I knew I never could.
This was the reality of living in Midpark, and I hated it.
Rounding a corner, I saw that my books were still on the floor; it looked like they’d gotten kicked and stepped on, but they were still whole, at least. As I went for them, I felt someone touching my upper arm, fingers curling the same way they did before that boy, Ryan, had taken me to the locker room to begin with.
“Jaz, wait.” Archer’s voice. Archer’s hand on my arm, his fingers on me.
I froze, slowly turning to face him, glaring at his hand as if it was a knife cutting into my flesh. If he did not take that hand off me within seconds, I would rip it off me and maybe break a finger or two.
Archer got the hint, and he quickly released his hold on me, taking a step back. The halls had emptied, a lot of students already gone for the day. “I’m sorry,” he said, and I could only blink as I stared at him, at those beautiful blue eyes. “I overheard Brittany and her friends talking about what Ryan was going to do, and I couldn’t…”
I’d heard enough; I turned away from him, silently going to gather my books.
“Jaz,” he said my name again—louder, this time. Firmer. As if he had any right to say my name after what he did, what he continued to do. This…none of it would be happening if I hadn’t gotten involved with Archer Vega, and by extension his bitch of a girlfriend.
How messed up was that?
When he said my name for the third time, I finally snapped, “What?” My voice came out shrill; I hardly sounded like myself, but that was to be expected, wasn’t it? It wasn’t every afternoon I was almost fucking raped by some rich, preppy jocks who thought they could do whatever they wanted.
Archer’s handsome face wore an expression I could not read. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t,” I cut in, holding my head high as I marched before him. “You don’t think, but you know what else? I don’t think you care enough to try. After all, I’m nothing to you. I’m nothing to everyone in this school. That much is clear.” Before I said anything else, and before he could open his mouth and retort, I stormed away.
I kept my head down as I walked through the empty halls to my locker. I didn’t think I’d ever hated a place as much as I hated Midpark High. Sure, I could tell someone, but what use was trying to tell on those rich kids when their money would solve the problem? I was the outsider here, I was the one no one would believe. Brittany would get Archer back on her side, somehow, so it wasn’t like I could count on him to back me up.
Thank God, Archer didn’t try to follow me.
The opposite of thank God, though, came into my mind when I spotted two arguing boys beside my locker, both dangerous in their own way, both tattooed, and both looking like they wanted to kill the other.
I so was not in the mood to deal with Vaughn and Dante right now.
My jaw tensed as I pushed between them to get to my locker, opening it and throwing my books in. I didn’t feel like doing homework tonight. The only thing I wanted to do was text Bobbi and tell her I was in.
I wanted to take Brittany down at the dance, and I wanted it to be as ugly as it could possibly be.
And Archer? The other jocks? One by one, I’d take them down, somehow.
Both guys instantly noticed something was wrong, and they stopped their bickering to study me. It seemed they could only overcome their dislike for each other on my account…not sure what that said about me, being able to bring them together.
“What happened?” was what Vaughn asked, while Dante chose to say, “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing much.” I closed my locker loudly, my backpack empty. Mom would wonder what was going on if I didn’t at least pretend to bring home some things. “Just busy getting almost-raped by a few jocks, but beyond that, just a normal Monday for me.” I said nothing else, spinning on my heel and walking away.
I should’ve known they’d follow me. They caught me just before the giant glass door, just before I escaped the confines of this hellhole and breathed fresh air. Both Dante and Vaughn surrounded me, their gazes pinning me to the wall.
“Are you serious?” Dante asked, his shoulders shifting under his leather jacket.
The only thing I could do was nod.
Vaughn’s dark brows went together. “Who was it?”
“Yeah, tell us who the fuckers were, and we’ll take care of it,” Dante spoke, and for a split-second, I believed him. “And if Vaughn isn’t man enough to help, I’ll do it myself.”
The stupid thing was, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that these two would do anything for me, enact vengeance on my enemies and right the wrongs that had been done, but truly, no one else could do that other than me.
“Ask Archer,” I muttered before pushing past them and leaving Midpark High.
I walked home, stupid as it was. I tried to let the air cool me down, baptize me and wash away the pain of what nearly happened, but it wasn’t long into my walk when I realized that was impossible.
They said you should forget and forgive; some people did one or the other. Me? I would do neither.
Chapter Fifteen – Dante
“Let her go,” Vaughn whispered, stopping me from chasing after Jaz as she left. I was seconds from asking him why, but then I saw his gaze was on a blonde boy heading toward us, looking glum as he fiddled with the strap around his shoulders from his bag.
Archer.
I recognized him immediately. Sort of wish Jaz would’ve let me pound him a little more, but hey. You couldn’t win every battle.
I didn’t let Vaughn stop me from rushing to Archer, grabbing his jacket by the collar and slamming him against the nearest wall. His blue stare focused on me, and he pushed me off him, glaring.
“Tell me who,” I said, baring my teeth, feeling the need to stab something. Maybe a few somethings.
Archer didn’t look shocked. “She told you.”
I nodded as Vaughn moved beside me. He threw a look over his shoulders. “I think,” he spoke slowly, “it would be in your best interest to tell us who was going to hurt Jaz.” He wasn’t as pushy as me, wasn’t as overtly threatening, but I could hear the underlying message in his words: tell us, or else pay the price.
Hmm. Maybe Vaughn and I would get along, after all.
Archer threw a quick glance around, saying nothing for a few moments. “If I tell you, just…don’t tell anyone I said anything,
okay? I don’t want them at my throat next.”
I glared. This rich prick was hiding something; I just had no idea what that something was.
“Fine,” Vaughn agreed. “Names.”
Archer told us who had nearly done the filthy deed, and then we let him go. I wanted to pound his face in a bit more, but Vaughn stopped me.
“It would do no one any good to react now. The best plans are ones that involve patience,” he told me. “Come with me.” Vaught did not speak like a typical high schooler; hell, he didn’t even talk like me, and I was twenty-two. Right then and there he sounded like he was much, much older than he was.
I didn’t want to follow him. I still didn’t particularly like him much, but with what we just found out, I supposed I could put my feelings for him aside and go with him.
Vaughn led me outside, to a long, black limo that waited nearby, idling. He opened the door in the back, gesturing for me to get in. I stared at him for a few moments, wondering if he was serious. Me and limos didn’t really mix.
I hesitated. “This is a little too fancy for me,” I muttered, to which Vaughn only frowned.
God, he was such a sourpuss, wasn’t he?
Rolling my eyes to myself, I slid in, Vaughn getting in after me. The driver in the front was separated by a partition, but he rolled the black glass down, eyeing me up in the rearview mirror. He was an older man, and he sounded no-nonsense when he said, “Where to?”
“Pull us in the back of the parking lot,” Vaughn instructed. “Dante and I have some business to talk about.”
The driver said nothing else, nodding and asking not a single question as he did what he was told—after rolling up the glass and giving us some privacy. I ground my jaw, watching as we passed the front doors of Midpark High and turned on the edge of the parking lot, heading to the back, where my bike was parked.
When the limo was stationary, I glanced up front. “The driver cool?”
Defiant: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 2) Page 18
