Wicked Devil: An Enemies to Lovers, High School Bully Romance (Devils of Sun Valley High Book 1)

by Daniela Romero

  I want to thank him. He helped me. But I can’t make the words form. All I can do is stare at his hands. They’re rough and tan and—

  I take several steps back.

  Janessa turns her head to look at me but all I can see are his hands.

  They’re not the same, Allie. They’re not the same.

  I know that. My mind knows that. But my heart is racing out of my chest because they’re not the same but they’re similar and I can’t stop looking at them. He takes a step in my direction and my muscles lock up.

  My head snaps back to look him in the face and he freezes.

  “Miss?” His hands are lifted as if in surrender and I can see the worry in his gaze. He takes another careful step closer and my chest heaves. He’s approaching me like I’m some rabid animal. I need … I need …

  Janessa takes two steps to her left and suddenly she’s blocking him from my view. She says something but I don’t hear it. I can’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears.

  His hands aren’t the same. I tell myself again and again like a mantra that will somehow make this all better. I try to think of something else. Anything else. But then my mind latches onto Roman and how mad he must be with me right now. How disappointed all of them are. I promised I’d be there. They’d wanted me to be there. And then I wasn’t.

  Janessa tugs on my sleeve and I glance up, she guides me around the officers and I don’t miss their pity as she ushers me outside the hospital doors. I don’t want their pity.

  When we’re outside I slowly start locking myself down. I will my mind to go numb. To block out everything I’m feeling. To forget everything that happened. I just want to forget it all.

  Allie

  I wake with a start. My chest heaves and my eyes pop open. Daylight filters in through my bedroom curtains, letting me know it’s morning. Or maybe afternoon. It doesn’t matter.

  I stare up at the ceiling, willing myself to go back to sleep. I don’t want to be awake. It hurts too much.

  There’s a knock at my door.

  I ignore it.

  Another knock.

  I roll to my side just as the door opens. “Allie,” Janessa calls.

  I squeeze my eyes shut hoping she’ll think I’m asleep and leave me alone.

  She doesn’t.

  I hear her steps fall across the carpet as she comes closer. My bed dips under her weight as she sits on the corner. I stiffen when she reaches out and touches my leg. “Allie, you need to eat something. Why don’t you come downstairs? Your father ordered breakfast. It’ll be good for you to get out of bed.”

  I say nothing.

  She tries another tactic. “Some friends of yours from school have stopped by.”

  They have? A part of me wants to know who. Wants to know if it was Roman. If he’s still angry with me? He hasn’t messaged me since that night and I miss him but … every time a man has come close to me I’ve panicked. Gerald tried speaking to me once. I freaked out. I curled into a ball like a child and sobbed. I still don’t know why. It just happened and I couldn’t stop it.

  He hired a doctor to come look at me. That didn’t go well either. For the past three days the only person that I've allowed in my room has been Janessa. I don’t like it when she’s close, and I really don’t like it when she touches me, but at least her presence doesn’t send me into a mindless panic. It’s enough.

  So, while I might want to see Roman, I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t want to risk losing myself again. With him. But curiosity burns through me so I open my eyes and ask, “Who?”

  She shifts her weight. “A few boys. Two Latinos and a black guy. They said they were your friends?”

  I nod.

  “What did you tell them?”

  “That you weren’t seeing visitors right now.”

  I swallow. “Anything else?”

  She’s quiet for a moment and I hold my breath. “I didn’t tell them what happened but … one of the boys got angry when I refused to let him in. He started shouting. I might have yelled at him. Told him you didn’t want to see anyone. Even him.” She grips my leg in apology. “He didn’t seem happy. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just didn’t know how else to make him leave.”

  I blink back the moisture in my eyes. “It’s okay.”

  She sighs and stands to leave. “Will you at least think about coming down to eat?”

  I nod, knowing I won’t. I haven’t left my bed since that night to do anything more than use the bathroom or shower. Something I’ve been doing at least three times a day. Sometimes more. I can’t seem to get the feel of his hands off of me. The smell of his skin.

  Janessa starts to say something else but I can’t listen to her anymore. I’m losing myself to my memories. I want her to go away. I need to go back to sleep. It’s the only place I feel safe anymore. Childishly I cover my ears. “Please,” I whisper. “Go away.”

  Time passes from one day to the next, even when it feels impossible. Even when it seems like I’m losing myself with each passing hour. Each passing minute. I don’t understand how the sun manages to rise each day when I can barely open my eyes to greet it.

  I lose count of how many days go by.

  Some days Janessa comes to try and get me to come downstairs. Some days she doesn’t. I manage to drink the bottled water she brings me. On occasion the tea. But I rarely touch the food. The few times I’ve tried have resulted in me bent over my toilet heaving whatever I consumed right back out. My body doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore. I know this isn’t normal. I know I need help. But I can’t find the energy or want to ask for it. I’m numb and I’m afraid to be anything else but numb.

  Roman doesn’t message me. Neither does Emilio. Dominique reached out once asking me if something happened. If I was okay. But I didn’t respond. What could I say?

  I wake to the sound of heated voices in the hallway outside my bedroom door. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I try and muster interest in what they’re saying. I stare at the closed door, pulling my covers tighter around myself as if that’s enough to keep me warm. But it’s not. All I feel is a bone-aching chill. It never leaves.

  “She needs more time.”

  “She doesn’t need time. There’s nothing wrong with her and she’s done nothing but sleep. It’s been nearly a week—”

  “What else would you have her do? The girl is traumatized.”

  “She needs to get over it.”

  I don’t hear what they say next. I look at the clock on my bedside table. It’s just after seven in the morning.

  I take a deep breath.

  I’m okay.

  I will get through this.

  You’re strong, Allie. You’re strong like Mom.

  I take another deep, shuddering breath and force back a fresh wave of tears. Why am I crying?

  “You’re strong like Mom,” I whisper to myself. I wipe my tears away and make myself get out of bed. I’m numb. I can be numb and move. I can be numb and do things. Go places. Right? Maybe.

  Mom died. My boyfriend cheated. My boyfriend dumped me. My best girlfriend turned her back on me. I lost my home. I had to go to a new school in a new town. My dad never has time for me. I was ra…

  I force myself to finish the thought.

  I was raped.

  I’d been through so much in such a short amount of time. But it was done. Over. Finished. All of it had already happened. I’d push forward. One day at a time, Allie. You can do this.

  Numb. So fucking numb.

  Janessa’s voice rises again. There’s mention of a therapist.

  I don’t know what Gerald says in response but I can tell by Janessa’s tone that she doesn’t agree.

  That’s okay.

  I’m okay.

  Or at least, I will be. Time heals all wounds, right? That’s what all the inspirational quotes and memes on social media say.

  The day I arrived in Sun Valley I told myself all I needed to do was survive this year, graduate, and then I could
go home.

  That is still the plan. I can go home. Things will be better once I’m back in Richland. There won't be a school full of people who hate me. There won't be bad men lurking around corners, hurting me to get to my dad. I will be safe. I just have to survive here a little bit longer.

  Letting that resolve settle inside of me, I shower. The hot water scalds my skin, but it’s still not enough to warm the bone-deep chill. I scrub at my arms and legs, wishing I could clean myself, but I’ve already learned it doesn’t matter how many times I wash my body, I still feel dirty. I can’t get the smell or feel of him off me.

  I spend thirty minutes in the shower before giving up and drying off. I put on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved purple top, careful to cover every inch of skin I can reasonably manage and add a silk scarf to cover the bruising on my neck for good measure.

  Leaving my hair down, I blow it dry and add a heavy layer of concealer along my jaw, my right cheek, and beneath my bottom lip. It’s not enough, so I add a layer of foundation on top and then another layer of concealer on top of that. It covers the bruises but I can’t do much to conceal the swelling. With some lip liner and gloss, it should be less noticeable. I hope.

  Even with a full face of makeup, my skin is still a little discolored but if I keep my head down like I usually do I should be fine. No one will give me a second glance.

  There’s a knock on my door and before I can answer, it swings open.

  Janessa walks in to find me sitting on the floor in front of the full-length mirror in my room.

  “You’re ready?” she asks, sounding surprised.

  “Yeah.” I stand and reach for my backpack. My eyes lock on my hands and I freeze, staring at them as though for the first time. My knuckles are bruised. My nail beds torn and cracked with dried blood.

  Makeup can’t cover that. I frown. I'll have to keep my hands in my pockets if I want to avoid any questions. Dread wells up inside of me. I can’t handle any questions.

  I grab a zip-up hoodie from my closet. One of the pieces I picked up with Aaron during our Target run.

  Janessa frowns when she sees the black garment and then steps over to my closet. She flicks through the clothes hanging there and pulls out a soft white sweater with pale pink sleeves.

  Turning, she hands it to me, gently taking the hoodie and placing it back inside my closet. “This goes with what you’re wearing,” she tells me.

  I want to scream.

  But I don’t.

  Screaming doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t help. I know that, so I nod and slip my arms into the sweater, feeling another piece of myself die inside. Why does the sweater matter so much?

  When we step outside to head to school, an unfamiliar car sits in the driveway.

  Dominique stands there, leaning against the hood of his black Escalade, arms folded over his chest.

  I freeze.

  “Allie,” he calls out and tilts his head back to his car. “I’m giving you a lift. Come on.”

  My heart rate picks up and my eyes turn to Janessa, pleading with her to say something. Anything.

  I can’t go with him. My breathing becomes erratic. I can’t.

  Understanding washes over her face. She gives me a barely perceptible nod and turns to him. “I’m sorry, young man, but you need to leave.”

  Dom smirks. “I’ll get right on that. As soon as Allie gets in the car.” He flashes her a dazzling smile. “I’m a friend from school. I’ve given her rides before. She’s plenty safe with me, ma’am.”

  Janessa flicks a look to me as if to ask, what now?

  But how the heck should I know. I have no idea what to do in this situation. I wasn’t prepared to face him. I had an entire pep talk ready to give myself on the drive to school today. Before I saw him. Before I saw anyone. My hands are clammy and a cold sweat drips down my spine.

  My heart hammers in my chest. Faster. Harder. My breaths quicken and I know a panic attack lingers right there on the edge. I can’t let him see me like this. My temples pound, a headache now coming on strong, beating inside me like a battering ram.

  “Allie?” she whispers.

  I can’t. I can’t.

  I know Dom is safe. He’s my friend. He’s safe. I know that. But the idea of being in a car with him right now is sending my mind into a spiral. I can’t.

  I turn and rush back inside the house, ignoring both of them as they call out for me.

  I can’t.

  I’m not ready.

  I just can’t.

  Allie

  More time passes. I don’t know what I was thinking trying to go to school. I was an idiot.

  It’s been three days since. Maybe four. I don’t know for certain and I try not to care. There’s a knock at the door and I sigh, but when I roll over to tell Janessa to go away, my breath freezes in my lungs.

  Julio steps inside, Janessa right behind him. “Allie,” she hedges.

  I swallow hard and push up into a sitting position, clutching my blankets tight to my chest. “What are you doing here?” I whisper, my eyes zeroed in on Julio as he stands just inside my room.

  His dark brown eyes soften and he takes a step toward me. I lock up with that one small movement. He stops and turns to Janessa, a question in his gaze.

  “She has a hard time with men right now.”

  He nods. Taking a step back, he leans against the wall before sliding down to the floor and folding his hands in his lap. “Hey,” he tries again.

  I shift in my bed, putting a few more inches between us. “Hi.”

  Janessa hovers in the doorway. “Do you want me to stay?” she asks.

  I take a deep breath. Exhale. Then take another one and shake my head. “I… no. I’m okay.”

  She nods but doesn’t look convinced.

  “I’ll stay right here for however long she needs,” he tells her. “I won’t push.”

  “I’ll be right downstairs if you need me,” she tells me and then pulls the door shut behind her.

  Julio and I stare at one another for several seconds before he finally breaks the silence. “Are you okay?”

  That one question has my eyes brimming with tears. I look away and swipe at my cheeks.

  “Fuck, Allie.” Julio hangs his head, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “I…” He looks at me, his eyes stark and raw with pain. “I don’t know what to say. How to fix this.”

  I choke on a laugh. “She told you?”

  He nods. “I tried calling you a few times but your phone kept going to voicemail. Then this chick calls me out of nowhere asking if I’d be willing to come here for a few days. See if I can help.” He shrugs. “Allie, when she told me what happened to you. What you went through…”

  My eyes sting and shame blossoms in my chest. Pressing my lips into a tight line I look down at the covers clenched between my fingertips. He must think I’m so weak. So dirty.

  “Hey.”

  I don’t look up.

  “Hey!”

  I shake my head. I don’t want to see the pity or disgust I know must be in his gaze. If Julio looks at me differently… I can’t handle this anymore.

  “Allie. Babe. I love you. You are my best friend. Let me be here for you.”

  A tear slips down my cheek and I furiously swipe it away. “You shouldn’t be here,” I tell him.

  “Alejandra. Por favor. Déjame ayudarte.” Please. Let me help you.

  I want help. I do. But—

  “How?” I choke on the word. “How can you help me? Julio, I feel like I’m dying inside and I wish I was dying on the outside, too. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to feel this. Anything. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. I just—”

  He pushes from the ground, but stays by the door. A sob mixed with a whimper passes through my lips. He freezes. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes plead with me but I don’t know what he wants.

  A tick forms along his jaw and he scrubs a hand over his face leaving behind a weary expre
ssion. “I want to hold you. Can we… do you think we can try?”

  I have no freaking idea. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing while my mind races, rationalizing his request. The only person who’s touched me is Janessa. But Julio is my friend. I trust him. I know him. I …

  “Can I see your hands,” I ask.

  He frowns, confused but raises them palms out to face me. I shake my head. “Turn them around.”

  He does without question. I take in the backs of his hands already knowing what I’ll find. Both hands are inked, one sporting a large skull with red roses on either side. The other is tattooed with a strand of rosary beads and a cross resting between his thumb and index finger.

  I focus on the ink, tracing the lines of the designs with my gaze. I force myself to recognize the differences between his hands and those of my attacker. Beyond the ink I take in the gold band he wears on his right middle finger. His clean, short nail beds.

  My breathing slows and my shoulders relax. Julio is patient with me, letting my eyes drink their fill. Several minutes pass before I feel confident enough to let him step closer.

  With exaggerated slowness, he walks to the edge of my bed. When he reaches it, he inclines his head, asking if it’s okay to sit. I nod.

  Beside me now, we both wait. When I don’t have a panic attack, he shifts closer, leaning beside me against the headboard.

  I swipe at my eyes and hold myself perfectly still as he slowly and carefully places one arm around my shoulders. Neither of us moves. My deep, deliberate breaths are loud in the quiet room, but he doesn’t seem to mind. We sit there and as the minutes pass, I slowly shift until I’m turned toward him, my ear pressed against his chest over the sound of his beating heart. His grip around me tightens and I manage to breathe through it.

  One hand comes up to mindlessly stroke my hair. “I’m so fucking sorry, Allie,” he says.