by Nina Lincoln
Clearing my throat, I run my hand over my sternum, where the familiar ache from that day forms every time I recall the events. “I can still hear her screams. They came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of me. He had released her from the bed, and when she tried to run, he pushed her down the stairs. Once at the bottom, he started pounding on her again.”
Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I came down the stairs slowly, scared, you know. When I got to the bottom, I found...I saw...she was lying on the floor surrounded by blood. And he was sitting on top of her pounding on her over and over.”
Sadly, I look into Melissa’s horrified gaze and grimace, “I must’ve made a sound. I don't know because they both looked up at the same time. She said something I couldn't make out, and he sprang from her, coming toward me. I tried to run, to get away, but he grabbed my leg from the bottom of the stairs and pulled me down.”
Shuddering, I take a breath of air, my lungs constricting under the weight of the fear I felt when he towered over me.
“He raged at me about her, always about her before shoving me against the wall and telling me not to move. And I didn’t. I was frozen. I couldn't move. I didn’t move. Not when he punched her a few more times. Not when he left her on the floor, covered in her own blood, her face, her pretty face mashed in. Not even when he brought back the biggest knife I’ve ever seen and stabbed her, over and over and over.”
I trail off after that, wiping away the tear that escapes my eye. I’ll never forget how she stared at me, begging me to run—begging me to help, begging me. I’ll never know what she wanted because he made me sit there and watch as the life bled out of her until the last twitch of her body stilled. And then, he crouched before me and told me to run. And I did.
Other than the testimony against him, I haven’t told a single soul what happened, and the ache in my chest tells me it might have been too soon, but my stomach is blessedly free of the nausea that used to be there. Maybe I’m making progress after all.
Shuffling breaks me out of my reverie, and I gasp when I spy Colt emerging behind us, glancing between us with a weird look that I can’t decipher. Melissa looks equally shocked, so I know I don't have to kick her ass, but I feel so naked, so vulnerable, I stand and walk away.
“Finn!” he calls after me, but I ignore him.
Walking down the sand, I make a beeline for the trees ringing a small islet and submerge myself from the world. The shadows cover my skin in cool relief, but it doesn't soothe the thudding sense of helplessness in my heart.
Hunching over, I take deep breaths through the pain racing through me in uncomfortable waves. I feel bare, exposed, splayed open, and I’m afraid to go back, afraid to look into Colt’s eyes. I’ve been outrunning him since the day I met him, but I can't outrun this. I can't outrun the reality that I love him, and he could crush me with this.
I’m such a fool.
“Finn,” Colt says behind me, and I close my eyes, against what I don't know, he’ll still be there when I’m done.
For a moment, we exist in silence, until I get mad, blazing, heart-wrenching mad.
Harshly I say into the quiet, “I don’t deserve this, none of it. I don’t deserve the piece of shit who calls himself my dad, serving a life fucking sentence. Oh, but that’s right, he's fighting that because he doesn't believe he got a fair trial. I don’t deserve to go home every night and stare at the face of my mom’s twin sister and wish so badly it was her. I don’t deserve to feel bad for wishing Maggie away. Fuck, I don’t deserve it. And you know what, Colt Theroux,” I say heatedly, turning back to him, “I don’t deserve the shit you’ve thrown at me since day one. Your mom and dad lied to you? Big fucking deal. You’re upset because two people loved each other enough to make it work. It’s not ideal, and it’s a shitty fucking hand, but they love each other.”
I’m shouting, my words garbled by the tears pushing at my throat, but I refuse to cry, not again. Not here, not now.
“I’m sorry you feel like you got a rotten deal, but you’re a lucky asshole with a complex. Get over it,” I mutter.
His face drops, his eyes carrying a quiet desperation before he shores it back behind his icy cold facade.
“Is that right?” he asks softly.
He’s so beautiful even in his pain, inexplicably, need rushes through me. I can’t bear the ache in my chest. I can’t accept the outcome of this, the cavern I’ve opened in my soul. I don’t want to feel.
Painful and quick, arousal surges through me, stealing the air in my chest. I want Colt to fuck me. I want him to take the pain away.
Stepping forward, I grab his dick through his pants and squeeze. With an indrawn breath, he grabs my wrist and stares at me like he’s never seen me before, and with a vicious smile, one of pain and regret, I squeeze again.
When his eyes light with fire, I pull away from his grip and unfasten his pants, all the while, he breathes heavily above me, standing achingly still.
Ignoring his shock, I shove my hand down his pants, palming his hardening length.
Only then does he break, grabbing my arms, and growling, “What are you doing?”
“It’s called a hate fuck, Colt,” I sneer, “sound familiar?”
“Finn,” he groans, his eyes black with desire.
I see the struggle within as he clenches my arms tighter, his expression grim as he searches my eyes desperately. Sensing his hesitation, I pull him from his jeans and drop to my knees, surrounding his head with my mouth.
He barks and grabs my hair, pulling me closer, and with a surge of triumph, I suck him off, pushing down and pulling up over and over while he moans above me until he’s close, his hands tightening in warning.
Abruptly, I pull off and undo my pants with shaky fingers as he steps forward with a grim expression and puts his hands over mine, helping me with the buttons.
Turning away from his eyes, I stare over his shoulder while he wrenches on my pants, and when they reach my knees, I try to stop him, but he pushes them down past my ankles anyway, my shoes flying off with them.
With a grunt, he pulls me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist, shoving my face into his neck. I may be forcing sex on him, but I refuse to make this intimate, for I know this could break me later.
Lining up with my core, he rubs against me tantalizingly, and with a slight moan, I shift against him, eager for him to make me forget.
“Finn,” he growls, and I shudder, grinding against him with my need, but he doesn't move, doesn’t so much as twitch as I attempt to ride him.
“Princess,” he says again.
Reluctantly I give in, and as soon as I make eye contact, he surges into me. We both cry out, the feeling so savage, so real, so good it sends painful pleasure through me roughly. I lock eyes with him and watch him slowly unravel as he thrusts into me, his balls slapping my ass.
He’s holding me aloft in the air, and I can’t do much more than hold on for the ride. Still, his rapid thrusting hits me just right, and I surge toward orgasm, fluid leaking between us at my pleasure.
Grunting, he tightens his hold, his nostrils flaring as he stares into my eyes and watches me tip over the edge.
As soon as the brilliant lights flash behind my eyes, he comes inside me, grunting my name heavily, “Finn.”
Resting his head against mine, we breathe deeply for a few moments before he lets loose his hold and drops me gently to my feet.
As soon as I’m on the ground, I turn away and pull up my pants, my limbs still trembling from the pleasure he gave me.
He says my name quietly, but I ignore him, grabbing my shoes and walking away. My heart is beating so fast I can barely breathe - this hasn’t tamed the pain, only solidified it like a rock in my chest. I should have been able to tell him my darkest secret while he held me close and stared at me with love in his eyes.
Instead, it was stolen from me, and I can’t take it back, no matter how badly I wish I could. I hate fucked the guy who refuses to show me anyt
hing but his hostility, and I’m left reeling in the aftermath.
Fuck.
At the last minute, I stop and say over my shoulder so softly - I’m not sure he can hear me, “I still hate you.”
Chapter Three
Over the weekend, I receive a text from Teddy asking for my address, and shortly after, I answer the door to an envelope from a delivery guy. Closing the door absently, I open the envelope and stare at the pictures inside.
It’s me and Colt from prom. I’m dressed in my beautiful red dress, my eyes wide as I clutch the roses to my chest and stare at the camera, Colt standing beside me with a grim expression.
Photo after photo emerges, and in each, our posture is slightly different as the cameraman took pictures in rapid succession - what doesn’t change is our stiff expressions and jaded eyes.
Until the last picture, which makes me pause, I’m in Colt’s arms for the dance as king and queen. It’s a candid photo of us, and I’m leaning against his chest with my eyes closed, my lips parted softly.
I remember this, for I allowed myself a moment of weakness and pretended it was all real.
Colt gazes down at me with a longing in his eyes that pulls at my chest painfully, making me wonder once again if his act the night of his birthday where he dumped me cruelly wasn’t all in an effort to push me away before he got closer.
With a sigh, I shove the pics back in the envelope and head upstairs to text Teddy. In my room, I hesitate for a moment before pulling out that last picture and leaning it against the wall on the dresser, next to the crown I never wanted.
Even if he pushed me away because he was scared, the fact is he did, and there’s no going back now. He broke a piece of me I’m not sure can ever be repaired, only glued back together with the fissures crooked and ugly, the evidence of my scars.
The following week Colt’s on me like white on rice, and everywhere I go, he’s there. I refuse to look at him or speak to him, even though I’d like to know how he knew we were at the lake.
Melissa protested her innocence quite vehemently, and I left the beach feeling gutted and exposed.
Unfortunately, fucking him out of a misplaced attempt at hate didn’t make the situation better. I’m afraid to face him and the feelings that still lurk in my heart despite his dick behavior. So instead, I avoid him to his irritation.
I can’t go back to before, and it’s taken everything I have to keep myself together, for him to have even those small pieces of me is devastating.
Midway through the week, I hear from my fan again. I’m staring at the board, waiting for class to start and studiously avoiding Colt’s gaze, which I can feel boring into my skull.
Pulling out my phone when it buzzes, I read through the text.
Bitch, I’ve told you and told you. If you don’t stay away from Theroux, you’ll both regret it. This is no game. If I see you with him again, he’s dead.
Trembling, I glance around the room. Of course, no one is conveniently texting, but Colt’s intense gaze meets mine across the distance. His expression darkens when he sees my face, but the teacher interrupts, and he huffs his displeasure.
Sliding the phone into my bag, I stare through the teacher. These notes and texts have escalated rapidly. The threat to Colt freaks me the fuck out. What if he gets hurt? What if this isn’t just a ploy to scare me?
What does that mean for Colt and me? And how does he know every time I’m near Colt? It has to be someone we know. Fuck.
I’ve been burying my head in the sand and hoping this will die off. Colt should have stayed at North because his presence is only angering the beast. Try telling that to the stubborn jerk, though.
I can’t ignore it any longer. It’s time to go on the offensive, but I know so little about the group.
I can ask Melissa or go to the source, Colt, but if I do, I could be making the situation worse. I’m at an impasse. Besides, I’m not sure I can trust Colt anyway.
Perhaps, for now, I will have to go this alone and see what shakes loose. It means I need to get myself to all the parties and start asking around. I fucking hate the partying, but maybe with Melissa, it might be bearable.
I also need to consult with Teddy. He sees a lot even though he’s confined to his wheelchair, although the texts make it harder to track this guy down. He can be communicating from anywhere now.
Shit, I don’t know.
As expected, Colt corners me on the way out, plastering me against the wall with his typical lean and staring into his beautiful eyes - I despair, my heart clenching at the thought he could be in danger.
Yes, he’s an asshat, but he doesn’t deserve to be hurt because of some crazy psycho.
“What’s going on, Finn?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I lie, shrugging my shoulders for effect.
If I involve him, I run the risk of endangering him, not to mention he doesn’t deserve to be in my inner circle, not yet, maybe not ever.
“Really? Look, I-“
Hayden appears over his shoulder with a smirk, and I take the opportunity to slip away, ignoring Colt as he swears profusely behind me.
Trotting off to the next class, I avoid Colt once again, except he fucking corners me after the next class.
I’m tired, emotionally drained, and scared. I just need a fucking minute.
“Remember the good old days when you hated me and couldn’t stand the sight of me?” I ask dryly.
Colt’s eyes flash, his mouth curling into a devastating grin, “Oh, Princess, I’ve always liked the sight of you.”
“Is that right? I thought I was boring Colt? Remember? You dumped me in front of our whole class because I sucked in bed,” I mutter.
The quickest way to get Colt off my back is to rile him up, and I’m willing to do it for a few fucking minutes of peace. Besides, for all I know, the creeper is waiting in the wings and watching this play out in living color.
“Oh Princess, maybe I changed my mind,” he says, smiling, but I can see the darkness behind his eyes. He doesn’t want me to rehash this, why I don’t know.
“Hm, maybe you can’t resist me after all? You back for another hate fuck? I tell you what, meet me in the parking lot at lunch.”
His eyes darken, flashing fire as he runs his finger down my cheek and murmurs, “Is that what you need, Princess?”
Pulling away, I back slowly down the hall and arching my brow, I murmur, “No, Baby. I just thought I might get you off my back. Truthfully, I’m a little bored myself.”
I escape before he can respond, and I admit the evil part of me is pleased by the icy look of anger that flashed over his face. It hurts, doesn’t it? Dick.
*****
Saturday night, I find myself at another party, but on the hunt this time. I’m prepared for my little fan to text me, and I’ve gone over a list of people, no matter how farfetched.
They include everyone I’ve come in contact with since I started here, including Colt. I have my doubts based on the abuse toward him, but it would be foolish to count him out.
That means I need to dig deeper with Colt, my tempestuous lover/enemy. Dirk, his best friend. Sarah, his bitch. Tiffany, his ex-Bitch. George, his friend, and a football player, although I hope it’s not because I’ve come to like George.
And Buck, Colt’s half-brother, the dick who tried to rape me in the back of his car. Ben, the douche who watched and then blocked my way when I tried to escape, not to mention attempting violent revenge not once but twice since then.
Nate, who’s been trying to get me to date him since the beginning. Hayden, who’s pals with Colt to my dismay.
Melissa or Teddy, my only friends. Ugh.
And this doesn’t include the handful of others on the periphery or who could be complete strangers.
I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
Speaking of my list, Nate rounds the corner and graces me with a beaming smile, his cute dimples popping. At any other time, I might consider dating him, but my life’s too complicate
d, and after fucking Colt, he pales in comparison.
Since he’s on my list and I have to start somewhere, I give him a friendly grin in return. We’re back at Dirk’s house, which makes me wonder where his parents are because they’re never here on the weekends.
Bass music pumps through the house, sliding through my skull while students cover every available surface, many in various stages of undress as they make out or...yep, have sex. Gross.
Being here reminds me of the couple’s game I played with Colt when he was pretending to be my boyfriend, the sex we had after was explosive, and once again, I’m left with a sour taste in my mouth at the memory.
Was nothing real? Fuck.
“Hey, pretty girl. Want a drink?” Nate asks, beaming his baby blues my way.
“Hey, sure.”
We wander into the kitchen and help ourselves to the booze before exiting into the brisk air. As usual, there’s a fire out back, and we find a spot to sit and absorb the heat.
“So, what’s going on? I haven’t had much time to talk to you, what with Colt and all,” he ends, sourly.
Laughing to cover my discomfort, I glance around and ask, “What’s your problem with him anyway?”
“You mean besides that he has the prettiest girl?” he says with a wink.
I cover my shiver with a smile and take a small sip of my drink. I can’t drink heavily tonight because my plan to track down my fan is in full force, and Nate’s quasi-inference about being jealous is not helping his case, either.
“Besides that,” I murmur.
Nate chuffs and looks away, and I follow his gaze, meeting Colt’s cold stare. We lock eyes for several minutes before I turn away. If there’s a god, then Colt’s agonizing over whether I plan to make Nate my replacement fuck. Hey, I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve sunk that low. It’s not like he hasn’t paraded his bitches in front of me before.
When I turn back to Nate, I’m startled by the look of pure hate on his face as he too, stares at Colt before he covers his blunder with a silly smile. Wow.
“Nothing, we were friends once. You know?” he says, casually.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, Hayden, Colt, and I, but then it all went to shit. I see they’ve remained friends, though.”
