Vengeance High: A High School Bully Romance (How the Mighty Have Fallen)

by Ellie Parker

  “Sven?”

  “Jessa, just put your damn clothes on.”

  I tried to reach out to him, but he pulled back, flinching.

  Through my tears I made out each piece of clothing and slid into it. When I tried to stand, I got dizzy again and wanted to be sick.

  “Damn you!” Sven was angry, very angry. He pulled me by the arms to the edge of the bed and then rolled me over his shoulder. My head was hanging and dizzily banging against his back. I was afraid I’d be sick again, so I concentrated on forcing my throat closed and not thinking.

  I was being carried roughly, eventually down a set of stairs. A cold blast of air hit me as the door was opened and we headed into the night. Another short walk and then I heard their voices, garbled and angry, but I didn’t listen. I just wanted to sleep. I saw blue. My car! No guys, I can’t drive. I’m sick. Really sick. Can I just go back into the house and lie down somewhere? Somewhere clean? I’ll leave first thing in the morning, I promise.

  I felt the cold metal against my leg and the car was being opened. It felt like…yes! They’re shoving me into the back seat. That hurt! “Sven, what are you doing? I thought…” I stopped. I tried to remember, but it was too hard. It was easier to just fall back asleep. The movement of the car reminded me of when I was a little girl and we’d go for rides along the lake on Sundays. Sometimes rain would blow in and Dad would turn on the wipers. Back-and-forth, back-and-forth; their rhythmic cadence lulled me to sleep then. Now, I heard it again, but I couldn’t sleep.

  I sensed when the car stopped. It was dark, and raining, and I didn’t know where we were. A door opened and the overhead flashed on, hurting my eyes. “Sven? Where are we?” There was the slam of the passenger door, but the driver’s door was still open; I could feel the wind off the lake rushing in. “Sven, what’s going on? This isn’t home.”

  I heard a deep growl in his throat, a sound of reluctance paired with anger. Then the driver’s door slammed and there was nothing but the sound of male voices arguing. A flash of light came next, followed by the sound of spinning sand thrown against the side of my car—then they were gone, and it was quiet and worst of all, I was alone.

  16

  Jessa

  I’d fallen back asleep until the cold was too much, and I woke up. Leaning forward, I snaked my hand beside the front seat and opened the door with the handle. Pushing the seat forward, I did my best to climb forward and out, but I just landed in the sand, face down. Sputtering and desperately thirsty for cool, clean water, I rolled over and stared at the sky, just as Sven and I had done only a few hours earlier. We’d been so companionable. It was romantic and unique and only Sven and me. I had no idea what happened or what I could’ve done to make him so angry. Not even the other two came to my rescue, which was unheard of. They were my Three Musketeers, after all.

  I knew one thing for sure, and that was that I needed to get home. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but the due was heavy and I knew it was very late. The door was open and the warning bell from the dashboard annoyingly loud. Grabbing the running board, I pulled myself up and tried to brush the sand for my clothes. Something was wrong. Something didn’t look right. The buttons were all off, as though closed by a witness scarecrow. What the hell?

  I climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the fob. The car sprang to life and heat poured from the ducts, thank God. With horror, the dashboard told me it was four-thirty in the morning. My only hope was that Mom and Dad had gone to bed and not waited up. I thought about grabbing the ladder and sneaking in my bedroom window, like Sven had done before. But I knew I was in no condition to climb a ladder. I’d probably end up dead on the grass and that’s where they’d find me when Dad went out for the paper. No, there was no way around it. I had to go through the front door and take my chances. Thank God it was Saturday night, scratch that, Sunday morning. I could sleep in.

  I was in luck. The house was dark, and I used my key, pulling horizontally at the door to keep the hinges from squeaking. It was a trick I learned earlier and was saving for just such an occasion.

  I couldn’t risk a shower, as badly as I smelled. I let some water from the faucet trickle into a washcloth and bathed myself as well as I could under the circumstances. I leaned my head forward and brushed my hair toward my face. I could feel the grits of sand hitting the bathroom tile and sticking to the bottom of my feet. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so miserable. I risked enough noise by flushing the toilet to quickly brush my teeth. No one would suspect anything from a toilet flush.

  I folded back the blankets and sat on the edge of the bed, sipping from a glass of water on my nightstand and silently pawing through its top drawer, looking for some aspirin. My head was killing me and my stomach still wasn’t stable. When I finally laid flat, I felt much better, but the sounds of early morning had already begun. Dogs were barking at the newspaper carrier and I could hear voices that seemed to carry extra loudly through the crisp fall air. It was going to be one very long day.

  The smell of bacon awakened me and at first scent, I wanted to puke. I grabbed for the glass of water and knocked it to the carpet. I didn’t care what happened for the rest of my life, but I would never get drunk again. It was a solemn oath I swore in that moment as I made a run for the toilet. This time I had to get into the shower. There was no way around it. I smelled and if Mom came in to check on me, she’d know it. Grabbing my clothes from the floor, I shoved them into the bottom of the laundry basket, hoping that damp towels and Friday’s gym clothes would cover them.

  I dialed in the hottest water possible. The shower seem to restore me, at least a little. I could relate to the way Dad groaned when he and my mother had been out the night before. It must be even worse when you’re older.

  Stepping out, I dried off and wrapped my hair in a towel. I picked my way toward the dresser and found clean underclothes and a sweat suit. Adding a pair of warm socks, I felt halfway decent and the smell of bacon no longer turned my stomach. Well, there was no time like the present, so I open my door and started down the steps.

  “Good morning,” I greeted my folks and was surprised that my voice sounded halfway normal.

  “Good morning, dear, did you have a good time last night?” My mother was sneaky. Was that a trick question?

  “It was fun. There were a lot of kids there, and even some from other schools, but I think it all turned out just fine.” At the same time that I said that, I imagined the disaster that was the Stark household that morning. I didn’t remember anything much after Sven and I went up to his room.

  I tried to hold a decent conversation, when all I wanted was to go back to bed. I was the good daughter, though, and when breakfast was over, I offered to clean up. That raised some eyebrows, so I explained. “Actually, do you mind if I take a pass on cleaning the table. I’ve got a big test tomorrow and I think the smoke from the fire last night caused this headache. I’m just going to veg in my room for the day. Call me if you need something. Love you both,” and I was off and up the stairs into the sanctuary that was my comfy bed.

  Luckily, somehow, my purse had ended up in the bedroom with me. I dug around and found my phone, noting that the battery was almost dead. I plugged in the charger and checked my mail. Nothing but the usual spam. My text box, however, was packed. Evidently kids had been texting me all night long and I ignored them. Some people were looking for me, wanting to know if I was in the house or out, others wanted to know if there was pot somewhere and some others wanted to know how to get to the party or when it was over. I’d ignored them all. It looked like I would have some apologizing to do on Monday.

  The thing that bothered me the most was what happened with the Stark brothers. They treated me like crap, and I had no idea why. Was it because of how far things went with Sven? If that was the case, why had he been the cruelest of all? Maybe they were all drunk, or high.

  I decided to text Sven and find out how things were going.

  JESSA:HEY STRANGER. ENJOYED
LAST NIGHT, RIGHT UP UNTIL THE END. FEEL LIKE I’M DEAD THIS MORNING. WHASUP THERE?

  I was scrounged down under the covers, waiting for his response, but none came. Probably asleep. I sent the same text first to Stone and then to Chase. Nothing. That’s when I noticed the message had been sent, but not delivered. They all had their phones off?

  Trying not to feel put off by the silence from the other end, I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  It was afternoon when I woke up. Sleep had done the trick and I was back to my normal self, pretty much. I checked my phone and there was no response from any of them. Probably still cleaning up the mess. Part of me wanted to get up and drive over, see if I could help or at least what the scene looked like. I decided the fresh air would do me good so after a change of clothes and some make-up, I grabbed my purse and left in the car.

  I had to admit that the neighborhood leading up to the Stark house looked like a balloon of big confetti had burst. There were cans, napkins, paper plates and junk in general along both sides of the street and into the neighbors’ front yards. I bet that was going over well. I decided to go to the house, get a few garbage bags and make my job cleaning up that litter.

  There were people moving around in the house. I could see flashes of humans walk past windows as I pulled into the circular drive and shut off the car. Ringing the doorbell brought no one, so I knocked, three times and loudly.

  Deciding to try the back, I went around and saw the remnants of a nuclear war. Maybe the cleaning crew canceled on them?

  I knocked again, still, no one came to the door so there wasn’t anything to do but try the front once more. No answer. I tried texting, then calling—all three of them. No response. I felt scared and more than a little hurt. I decided to feed off the anger part—it hurt less. I got back into my car and left.

  17

  Chase

  I hoped that when I woke up, it would all be a nightmare, but it was still there. The party pretty much destroyed the place and Jessa, she pretty much destroyed my heart. I rolled over and called the service we’d put on standby. “Chase Stark here. We need your whole crew. The sooner, the better. You have the card? Good. See you soon.”

  Standing up was another matter. My stomach felt like I’d been punched right after Thanksgiving dinner. It was easier to just give it up, which I did in the toilet. Brushing my teeth, I was hoping the red room was a figment of booze. Hoping the DVD with Jessa’s name on it was just a fucking nightmare.

  Stone and Sven’s doors were still closed. I banged on both of them before going down to the kitchen to have a bowl of cereal. The milk coated my raw stomach. Sven wandered in behind me, pulling a bowl from the cupboard.

  “You might want to put something on,” I said, “The cleaning crew is one their way.”

  He grabbed a third bowl. “Maybe they’ll be lucky enough to catch me before I put my pants on.” It was meant to be a joke, but the air right now, had no room for humor.

  “So, are we going back in?”

  “Better do it today. They’ll be back in the morning,” Sven commented. “She was at the door.”

  Silence.

  Stone stood, drinking the milk from the bottom of his bowl. He half threw the bowl toward the sink and picked his way over debris as he went upstairs. “See you there,” he called over his shoulder.

  The three of us stood, facing the closet.

  “I think we should take an axe to the whole room,” Sven said.

  “Or turn him in to the cops,” Stone countered.

  We all knew the repercussions. The money, the cars, the house, they’d all evaporate in thin air. Jessa wasn’t underage now, and we had no fucking idea how long ago the video was produced. So there was even a chance that our father would lose nothing and that we would lose everything. I wasn’t sure it mattered. We’d already lost Jessa.

  Rage burned in my veins as my mind ran wild, playing out all the possible positions he had her in. Wondering just how deep she clenched her lips between her teeth when he pounded his saggy ass balls against her ass.

  “I was hoping this would all be a dream when I got up,” Sven said.

  Sven whipped out his camera and stood back, getting the whole cupboard setup into his viewfinder. He snapped a few pictures and then messaged them to Stone and me. “Proof,” he pointed out. “Just in case we ever need it.”

  18

  Jessa

  I pulled into the school parking lot, filled with anxiety. There hadn’t been a single word from the Starks up until the time I left. We never went that long without talking to one another. If only to tease or send kisses. It was strange. I knew they were okay. If not, one of them would have let me know. Besides, there were people moving around inside the house—I’d seen them.

  I left my car and strolled toward the school. There was a herd of people standing out from. A little unusual in the way they were huddled together, but I didn’t think much of it. Not until, they all turned around, their eyes fixed on me. They weren’t just glancing at me from the side, but boldly staring me straight in the face.

  I smiled and attempted to wave at a few, but the results were disastrous. I got frowns, whispers and fingers flipped in my face. What the hell was going on?

  My heart was beating hard. So hard that I was sure they heard it as I slipped by and pulled open the glass door that divided the outside from the inside of the school. Just as I rounded the corner, there was Chris.

  “Hey, you don’t know where the Starks are, do you?”

  He streamed closer. And then closer. And then even closer. “If you know what’s good for you, Jessa,” he said, leaning in so that his face was no more than an inch away from mine, “you’ll turn around and run like your life depends on it.”

  Okay, so he was still pissed about having his ass handed to him at the bonfire. Fair enough. I shook my head at him and curved to the left to walk around him. Then, thinking better of it, I turned back around.

  “You know Chris, just because you’re an asshole when you’re drunk, doesn’t mean you need to play the asshole when you’re not.”

  As soon as the last words dropped, I saw red pour into Chris’ eyes. He was coming for me. Stuck like a figure out of a cartoon, I couldn’t move. In an instant, Chris had my shirt fisted in his hand and my back was thrown against the locker. A sharp pain shot right through me, but I fought through it, pushing back against him.

  Chris was built like a brick shit house. But Christ wasn’t a goddamn match when it came to the Starks. He was done for. So fucking done for.

  “Look around you, Jessa.” I did. Not because he told me to, but because I just couldn’t believe that he’d managed to hold me there for that long without anybody coming forward. The hallway was crowded. All their eyes were pinned on us. Nobody moved. Nobody looked away. Nobody looked alarmed at all that this was happening. If anything, they looked like they’d be even more satisfied to see me slammed against the locker once again.

  I sucked in a deep breath, trying like hell not to cry.

  “Please just let me go, Chris,” I managed to squeeze out. He bared his teeth at me, smiling like a hyena who just walked into a herd of zebra.

  Knowing that if I kept my eyes fixed on his face, I wouldn’t be able to help the tears, I looked away. And that’s when I saw him. Sven. Hovering over the crowd. Watching. Not moving. Smiling just as wide as Chris was.

  19

  Jessa

  By the grace of something holy, I managed to get through the first hour of class. After the whole debacle with Chris…after not having Sven come to my defence when he clearly fucking saw me…I didn’t know what to think or how to feel.

  The entire class was a concert of whispers. Their topic for the day – everything and anything that had to do with Jessa. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I didn’t need to hear the words to know that none of them were good.

  Instead of rising at the bell, I waited for everyone to leave before making my way out of the classro
om. The cafeteria wouldn’t be any better. I knew that. But what I also knew was that if there was one place I would find the guys, it would be there.

  What I didn’t expect was to walk into what I walked into. Right there in the spot that we had claimed as our own, at the table we had claimed as our own, in the middle of the guys who had claimed as their own, was Marilyn.

  As soon as the door shut behind me, their eyes traveled in my direction. Smiles warped their faces into something sinister and slowly, just to make sure to drag the pain out as possible, Stone looped his arm around Marilyn and pulled her in, pressing his lips tenderly against hers. She squealed like a pig trapped under a truck, clamping her teeth around his lips as he pulled away.

  I swallowed the panic.

  I swallowed the pain.

  I swallowed the heart that rose to the tip of my throat.

  But I didn’t turn back.

  One foot in front of the other, I moved toward them, trying to steel all emotions away from my face.

  Stones eyes went over me, and I saw anger there. I looked away from him, looked past Sven and fixed my gaze on Chase. It took me a moment to figure out the right words. A moment too long apparently. In a tone filled with vile and disgust, Chase spoke. “Cat got your tongue, Jessa?”

  Marilyn giggled.

  “Fucking slut,” Stone grunted.

  And Sven? Sven rose from his seat. He stepped around the table, moving toward me. There was a smile on his face. A smile that made me feel like this was all some kind of joke. They got bored. Had a little fun. And now the fun is over and real life is back to being real life.