Trinity High: High School Bully Romance

by Savannah Rose

  “Where’s Mr. Malone?” Janelle asks after a long and heavy silence.

  That is the last name I want to hear right now. I give her a cold, deadly stare, but she doesn’t seem all that impressed. Janelle’s got a pair of balls on her. Credit where it’s due.

  “What? He’s her father,” she adds, looking at me.

  “He did this to her, Janelle!” Margaret replies. Her eyes are puffy and red. She’s been crying ever since we found Kira.

  “I’m sure he’ll come running to make sure I leave, before he even looks for his daughter,” I say, gritting my teeth. I hate the man with the fire of a thousand suns. Above all, I’m terrified of what my reaction will be when I do see him. I might not be able to control myself. “What is taking them so long?” I mutter, staring down the hallway leading into the emergency rooms.

  Nurses rush here and there, zigzagging through doors. Messages are conveyed through the speaker system. Some doctor is being called into the ICU. Someone’s car is blocking the ambulance access outside. Jesus Christ, may I never see the inside of a hospital, ever again.

  Finally, the doctor who took Kira in comes out – he’s the same one who pumped her stomach after the party. Taking his mask and gloves off, he tosses them into a medical waste bin. I’m stiff as a plyboard as he joins us inside the waiting room, giving me a stern look. “There was no Oxy in her system,” he says. My heart sinks even further in my chest. I can feel tears pool in my eyes, hot and angered. “It seems she’s suffered a pretty bad concussion.” The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like he holds me responsible. “Who did this to her?” he asks. “The last time I saw you, you promised to take care of her.” It’s an accusation and one I don’t shy away from. He’s right. I did promise to take care of her. Yet, here we are now.

  “I tried,” my voice is barely audible.

  “Well, she survived. Again,” he replies. “The police have been called. We’re not sweeping this under the rug, Mr. Dressler. It’s one thing for a girl to harm herself. It’s a whole other thing to have someone inflict the kind of damage that’s been done to her.”

  Janelle holds Margaret’s hand—the woman is falling apart at the seams, bursting into tears again. I can’t even comfort her. If I don’t kill William Malone, Margaret definitely will.

  “How is she now?” I need to see her. My very soul is aching.

  “She’s asleep. And I’ve put enough sedative in her system to make sure she stays asleep until the morning,” Dr. Connor replies. “You can all go see her, one at a time, but you have to let her rest.”

  Margaret stands up, her face red and her eyes glassy. “Can I go first? Please?”

  The doctor nods. “One of the nurses will let you in. I’ve got someone in there with her now, checking her vitals every thirty minutes,” the doctor says. “We’ll keep monitoring her until we’re sure she’s completely out of the woods.”

  I give Margaret a faint nod. My pain can wait. At least Kira is okay. For now, she’s safe. But I have to do more, while she’s still sleeping. Remembering Janelle’s phone in my glove compartment, I realize that I can actually keep William busy until she wakes up.

  When Kira opens her eyes again, I want her to find a whole new world.

  A better world.

  Less than an hour later, Sheldon reaches me at the hospital. Janelle and Margaret are taking turns to stay with Kira. I haven’t seen her yet. For all my longing of her, I’ve not found the courage to set foot inside that room. I can’t bear to see her like this…

  Maybe later. We’ve got a big-ass fish to fry, first.

  “Do you know where he is?” Sheldon asks. We’re close to a vending machine, keeping some distance from the people in the waiting area. They don’t need to know what we’re doing. Hell, I can’t let Janelle or Margaret know, either. It’s better if everyone is surprised.

  “He called Margaret. She made it seem like she hasn’t got a clue what happened. And that Kira had turned to Oxy. He’s on his way,” I say, chuckling bitterly. “You know what his first question was? He wanted to know if I was still here. The sick son of a bitch… He almost killed his daughter, and he wants to know if I’m still around.”

  “Had you not gone looking for her, Elias, things could have ended a lot worse,” Sheldon replies. “I’ve spoken to the PI. He’s sending a couple of off-duty cops over. They’ll wait outside. I’m assuming the hospital has already called the police.”

  “They have,” I say. William knows nothing of what’s going on, of course. He thinks he can pummel his daughter into oblivion and walk away unscathed. Maybe he’s even hoping that she’ll never wake up – never be able to tell her side of the story. Maybe he’s a hundred percent sure that she’ll keep her lips glued shut. One thing’s for certain, though, I know the last person he expects to see here is me.

  “Everything else is taken care of,” Sheldon says as we walk towards the main exit. “There’s an arrest warrant in the works, too.”

  “We don’t have enough for the Joe Fowler issue.”

  “Nope. But we’ve got him on Janelle’s phone. And for what he did to Kira. It’s enough to at least bend him over a little bit. Let’s start there, okay?”

  I nod slowly, as the cold morning air hits my lungs. The sky is still relatively dark, but I can see the burning pinks of morning stretching beyond the neighborhood. Ambulances sound in the distance. Hampton Heights is relatively quiet, but it’s not devoid of trouble, especially around the weekends, when Trinity folks come through.

  The squealing of tires makes me turn around. An SUV pulls up, a livid William behind the wheel. He jumps out and comes straight for my head. Two men tackle him from the side, before I can even react.

  “You son of a bitch!” William snarls, his face pressed into the asphalt.

  “Holy shit, they were already here,” I manage, feeling my eyes bulge as I stare at the two men. They’re wearing slacks and dark jackets, but I can definitely tell they’re cops by the speed with which they read William his Miranda rights, then cuff him.

  Sheldon’s eyes bulge, equally fascinated.

  “Where’s my daughter, you piece of shit?!” William shouts, then looks at the arresting officers. “And who the fuck are you? What is this? What are you doing?”

  “You’re under arrest for, aggravated assault,” one of the men replies, matter-of-factly. “And cellphone fraud,” the other adds.

  Sheldon hands me Janelle’s phone in a plastic bag, and I walk over to William with it, while the officers pull him up. He’s belligerent. It’s clear that he’s been drinking. His expression, all red and blotchy, is testament to that, along with his stinking breath.

  “I think you can add a DUI there, while you’re at it,” I say, smirking. Raising the phone for William to see, I deliver the final blow. “It’s not legal to clone phones, William. Didn’t your lawyer teach you that?”

  Sheldon joins me, while William watches us both, his words drowned in astonishment. “It’s also cause for the local PD to issue additional search warrants. I’ve also recommended a forensic accountant, since I’m positive that cloning a phone isn’t your first misdemeanor.”

  “And let’s not forget Joe Fowler,” I add.

  “I want to see my daughter!” William barks. His face is contorted with fury and shock. He’s never been in a situation like this before, and he has no idea what to do with himself. I admit, I’m taking great pleasure in seeing him struggle with the inevitable.

  “After what you did to her,” I spit, “you have some fucking nerve, William!”

  “I’m her father!”

  “You’re a fucking monster,” I shoot back, then shift my focus on the police officers. “Make sure he doesn’t get bail,” I mutter.

  I turn my back on William and walk back inside. Another weight is lifted from my shoulders.

  “You’re gonna pay for this, Elias! You’re gonna die! I’m gonna fucking kill you! You filthy piece of shit! You hear me?!”

  I suppose that’s
one good reason he just gave for the absence of a bail option. Sheldon is quick to spot that. “Officers, you can both attest that Mr. Malone here is violent. He’s made significant threats against my client, as well.”

  “No! Let go of me! I need to see my daughter!” William protests.

  The man is a joke, that much is clear.

  30

  Kira

  For a moment, I thought I would die. That it would all be over.

  I’m alive now. I can feel it.

  My toes wiggle. My eyes peel open. My ribs burns. My head hurts. The monotonous beeping of medical machines doesn’t help. It takes me minutes of blinking through a blurry vision, but I eventually understand my surroundings. I’m in a hospital.

  I’m not alone.

  I hear other people moaning. Some are talking, comforting those in suffering.

  Someone’s holding my hand. Turning my head slowly, the image becomes clearer, and I see Margaret. She’s watching me, holding her breath, pain shining through her teary eyes. I exhale sharply, suddenly over the moon to be able to see her. Remembering the cold darkness, I am thankful that I didn’t die.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my throat coated with gravel. “So… so sorry…”

  “Oh, Kira, honey,” Margaret manages, her voice trembling. She gives my hand a hard squeeze. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I scared you,” I say and she shakes her head, gripping my hands even tighter. I wonder if she knows what happened. I wonder if I’m strong enough, brave enough, to reveal what happened if someone asks me.

  Shame sets me on fire. I’m thirsty and hungry, but when I lick my tongue across my lips, all I taste are the remnants of blood and anger. I’m in need of a lot of things right now, and yet I want nothing except to curl up in a ball and cry my eyes out. How could he do this to me? My own father. I know what they’re all thinking. I had the bottle of Oxy on me, surely they believe that that’s in part responsible for my being here. But I don’t remember taking any pills. I’m pretty damn certain I didn’t.

  I grip Margaret’s hand, somehow finding the strength to hold onto her as tightly as she holds on to me. “I have no one,” I whisper to her.

  “You have me,” she whispers back.

  “You have us,” another voice says. It’s Elias. His presence cuts through reality itself.

  I freeze, watching him walk towards my bed. Janelle is with him. I’m angry with her, but I’m also too. So tired. But I’m too tired. Much too tired. Elias, however, seems remarkably calm. The three of them are smiling at me—they seem genuine and loving, and it makes me feel even worse.

  “Margaret, Janelle, can I have a moment alone with Kira, please?” Elias asks.

  The ladies nod and head out, occasionally glancing back at me. Still smiling. I’ll see them again. Maybe they’ve got some answers for me. Janelle, in particular. There’s so much I don’t know yet.

  Elias takes a seat in the chair next to my bed. He sits up straight and stiff. His expression is quite difficult to read—though it might be because of my fuzzy, half-dormant brain. I need to take it easy. One breath at a time. I need to not worry about what happens when I get back home. Or if I even have a home to go back to.

  A few moments go by in silence. But it’s not the heavy kind. Nor awkward. It’s just silence.

  “Margaret and I found you,” Elias finally speaks, his gaze fixed on my hands. “You were on the floor, cold… You weren’t breathing.”

  “Elias—”

  He pauses, taking another breath, and all I can do is look at him.

  “We called an ambulance. I sat with you through the entire ride. Panicked. Afraid. Your father got to the hospital much later, but I made sure he couldn’t come in. He’s been arrested for what he did to you, as well as cloning Janelle’s phone. Drunk driving was thrown into the mix as well.”

  He stops, finally looking at me. I’m speechless, my brain trying to process everything he’s telling me. Cloning Janelle’s phone? What the hell does that even mean.

  As though hearing my thoughts turning in my head, Elias takes a hold of my hand, squeezing it gently as he explains even further. “That’s how he knew I was there,” he says. “Janelle’s only been using the company telephone and your dad saw to it that every message and every phone call she made could be monitored by him without her knowledge. But none of that, Kira, is anything compared to what he did to you.”

  I nod, tears pricking their way through.

  “He needs to pay for what he did to you,” Elias adds. He isn’t wrong. He’s not fucking wrong. And the realization of that, the truth of everything that’s happened invokes the kind of pain that almost feels crippling. “But I don’t want you to think that you’re alone, Kira, because you’re not.”

  Our eyes meet, and I know he means it. Still, heart hurts in the most painful way, because never in a million years would I think that this is what my family would come down to. A dead mother and a father who might as well be six-feet under.

  “Where are my clothes?” I ask, my voice raspy.

  He frowns. “Here,” he says and pulls forward a backpack. “but you’re not going anywhere.”

  “Just… give me the clothes, Elias. Please…”

  “Kira. The doctors need to make sure you’re fully okay before they can discharge you.”

  “Just give me the bag, Elias.”

  “Kira…you can’t leave.”

  “And I also can’t allow my father to hurt me again,” I say, this time, not bothering to stop the tears that stream down my cheeks.

  Sighing, he hands the bag over.

  Fumbling through my clothes, I find my pants, stick my hands into the left pocket and fish out a matchbox. I give it to Elias. “I found this in his study,” I tell him. “He told the police he never set foot in Baltimore…”

  Elias checks the matchbox, then looks at the inside cover. I can see the blood draining from his face. “601…”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Joe’s room number at the Red Herring,” I reply.

  “Kira,” he says, not looking half as excited as I expected him to, which is a good thing, I guess.

  “You have the proof you need,” I say to him. “You have your smoking gun.”

  “He’s still your dad,” Elias says.

  I smooth my hand over my lip, feeling the sting from the cut my father left me with. Anger pools in the pit of my stomach once again. “Unfortunately,” I answer.

  Elias moves closer, merely a breath left between us. I see the glow in his green eyes. Flames conjured by alchemists burn in them. It’s love. The kind of love most girls only ever dream of. Few of us are lucky enough to come upon it. I, for one, never expected to receive it from him.

  It’s so powerful, so bright… I can feel it spreading inside me. Repairing. Healing. Soothing every atom of my being. As I look at him, something tells me that no matter how much I’m hurting now, I’m going to be okay.

  Epilogue

  If you were to look at me, you wouldn’t see the parts of me that are broken. On the outside, everything is okay. The bruises have healed. My smile knows how to find its place. But on the inside…there’s a whole lot of broken.

  A month has passed since his indictment for Joe Fowler’s murder, along with a string of other financial crimes, including what he did to me. The police put an injunction on all of his accounts, but they’ve stayed away from the house.

  There’s a secret safe my dad keeps in his bedroom. I emptied it before the house was searched. There was a lot of cash inside. Enough to keep me comfortable until I turn twenty-one and gain access to my trust fund. I’ve suffered enough because of William Malone. I don’t intend to suffer anymore.

  I’m in the visiting room now. There’s no plexiglass screen, but the guard left the cuffs on my father, making sure he can’t do anything stupid. I shouldn’t be here, but I think, in order to really heal, it’s a step I have to make. I’m getting rid of all the baggage. Staring my fears in the face
and proving to myself that they can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.

  “Kira,” Dad says, unable to look at me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  I’ve spent days and nights wondering about what I would tell him… about how this conversation would go. I’ve channeled years of suffering and loneliness and bad decisions into this singular moment. It’s time I let it all go.

  “It’s probably the last time you’ll see me before your next court appearance,” I reply, straightening my back.

  Dad finally raises his gaze. There is shame in his eyes. Defeat. But I don’t see an inkling of regret. He’s not sorry for what he did. He’s too proud and ambitious to experience such emotions. He’s just sorry he got caught. Sorry that I was strong enough to raise my voice. Sorry that I was hateful enough to go scavenging through his office for evidence. And shocked shitless that I found something and that I actually had it in me to help take him down.

  “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please you. I allowed your hatred for the Dresslers to poison me, too. I have been blind for too long, and I’m pleased to say that I can see everything with incredible clarity now,” I say, my tone unwavering. “You hurt me dad. Not just physically, but emotionally too. I want to tell you that I’m working on forgiving you. But I’m not sure I ever will…” I pause and fix my gaze on his. “I don’t think I want to forgive you,” I tell him.

  “You fucked him in my house—” Dad says. “You fucked him in my house and then you fucked me over.”

  “No dad. You fucked yourself over.”

  A muscle twitches in his jaw, and I shoot him a cold grin. “You’re here to make me miserable, huh?”

  “Everything that’s happening now is a direct consequence of your actions. No one is to blame, except you.”

  The look on his face is fucking priceless. I should feel sorry for him, but I can’t. This is the man who raised me, and I will always be thankful for the financial comfort. For everything else, however… there is nothing. Just resentment and the hope that he’ll never set foot outside the state prison ever again.