Bitter Angel

by Megan Hand

  Except that Nilah’s father wouldn’t let it go. A month after, he insisted she take a self-defense class. Apparently pink-studded pepper spray wasn’t enough to ease his fatherly conscience. Nilah threw a tantrum. She didn’t want to do this alone. How dare he? So her dad told Heather’s dad who told my dad. Before we knew it, we were all enrolled in a class given at the local community college.

  We dressed in our cutest workout clothes and showed up with naïve fists at our sides, ready to learn to fight! But the instructor was a huge bonehead. His muscles were the size of miniature candy bars, and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he got off more on touching us than teaching us the steps to get away from creeps like him. It was ridiculous. We quit after the second class. Essentially, we learned to not believe douche bags like him to begin with and we’d be fine.

  Now I’m not feeling so fine. I have an inkling I should’ve stayed in that class, pervert teacher and all. Hindsight is just a torturous game of fuck you.

  I assess the situation with frantic glances in every direction—up, down, left, right, diagonal. If only it were like a living video game, I would only have to find the trick exit to get me the hell out.

  Everything wants to come at me all at once—the fact that Alpha’s stronger than me, bigger than me, and more experienced at this than me. I shove it all away. Lock it up tight, tight, tight, and then…I’m floundering for a moment, pieces of me floating around as if I’m hovering over us at an angle above my scared self. Floating Me gazes back and forth at Real Me, then him, then me, and I realize I am not actually what my mind pictures. I look strong and capable.

  When I crash land into myself, my thoughts are still. My head is clear. My gaze is pristine as the dusky blue-black sky above me. I know what I have to do.

  My eyes lock with his.

  “Now, see? That’s a good girl.” He just stands there, unhurried.

  I’m sure he’ll take his time, just like he did last night when he was on top of me. When he was breathing on me in the bathtub. When he was holding the knife to my throat.

  His cocky-ass smirk is lighting me on fire. I’m taking in all the energy the sun left behind, allowing the flaming rage to lick at my bones. “How did you know I was back here?”

  He chuckles, jutting his chin at me. “Camera flash. What did you think you’d catch out here?”

  “Nothing I don’t have already,” I say with steely confidence.

  I have to force myself not to shake my head in disbelief. I followed him all around the city, took pictures of him everywhere, dog-tailed him up and down that building, and made enough noise to wake up a hibernating bear when I jumped into that dumpster. All of it was unseen, unheard. But a few clicks of my flash, and I’m Alpha-lunch. Rocking awesome.

  My answer sparks something in him. The evil goes three shades darker, telling me I only have a precious few seconds before he’s done playing nice with me.

  “So…” He crosses his arms. “What am I going to do with you?”

  It’s a long shot, but I try it. “Let me go, and I’ll destroy it. All the shit I have on you.”

  He turns his head and laughs. “Yeah, no. One, because I know you don’t have shit. And two, because letting you go would be such a waste. You’re going to be so much fucking fun.” His voice goes rough and gravelly at the end.

  Lust is radiating off of him. This is not something I felt earlier. He must be giving in to himself now that he thinks he has me cornered.

  “I won’t go quietly,” I say, low and hard.

  His expression mocks me. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  He starts toward me, not quickly, but it’s evident in the mercilessness of his eyes that I’m not getting out of this unscathed. Negotiations are over, if they ever began. Fun time is over. Talk is over.

  Go time.

  The flames of my fury lick higher. I let it all overtake me, tense up my muscles, bring forth the bitch that has wanted to take this bastard down since I first woke up to his voice cloaking me in promised agony. It’s amazing what the body can do when it has no other options. What it thinks it can do, a ragged voice whispers in my head.

  He’s still several yards away when I charge. I’m a bull, and he’s my red cape. His eyes go wide. He isn’t expecting this. The element of surprise is exactly the precious advantage I am aiming for. My momentum takes us down, and I’m on top of him, releasing endless anguished cries that match my fisted punches to his face, venom for venom. That’s for Heather, and that’s for Nilah, and that’s for the girls before us, and THIS is for me. I’ve bloodied his nose, busted his lip, cut his cheek, and blackened at least one eye before his dazed, concrete-smacked brain has the idea to restrain me.

  “Fucking, motherfu—”

  But I’m too quick. On my feet, I stomp one of his wrists to the ground while heeling him in the gut. He oofs and retracts his limbs, catching one of my ankles. I kick him in the head, effectively loosening his hold on me. I feel swollen with power. Inflamed to the point that my head buzzes with it.

  This is one of those moments that you hear about all the time. Those people that lift cars off of their babies or cut their own leg off to save their lives. It’s all so intoxicating, seeing him down and in pain and bloodied, I’ve completely forgotten that I should probably run at some point in time.

  That time would be now.

  As he grunts himself into a sitting position, I leap away, but he bear hugs my thigh and yanks. My one steady foot is in the air. Pavement punches into my side. I let out a hoarse scream. My right arm, which landed underneath me, is tingling and scraped where the hoodie sleeve hiked up. He has me half underneath him, his head right above my crotch.

  “I knew you’d be fun,” he snarls, dragging himself over me.

  I go ballistic, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. I shove his head up and thrash my knees, desperately hoping to hit sensitive spots. I feel one colliding with the bottom of his rib cage while the other hits the soft peak of his stomach just below the ribs. He growls. I shriek.

  Someone has to hear me! Please! Someone! PLEASE!

  He corrals my legs with his thighs and attempts to sit back in a straddle position. With one breath, he spits blood beside me and jams his forearms against the inside of my elbows. My fingers rip out thick dark tufts of his hair.

  “Aw, fuck!” he cries out, laughing breathlessly at the same time. His hands automatically retreat to the burst of pain in his skull.

  It gives me a moment to squirm out a few inches until I’m right where I want to be.

  One foot slams into his manhood. His face goes slack. I think his body is going limp when I slide rapidly out from under him and roll onto my belly. I ignore the raw sting from the abrasions against my palms. Bits of glass dig into the knees of my jeans, reminding me of running away from him last night—more déjà vu—as I haul myself clumsily to my feet.

  I tear away, gasping, not imagining what’s behind me. Forward, only forward. But I misjudged him. I’m nearing the mouth of the alley when a horrendous roar rings out. I can actually feel the air racing ahead of him as he catapults himself toward me. My palms thrust out to break my fall. Unable to support myself, my left wrist bends at an unsafe angle, and I wail in horror, twisting up on the ground. He grunts his way on top of me. He must’ve learned his lesson because he kicks my legs together, restraining them again with his own.

  Forced onto my back, I’m disoriented, only for a moment, and then I go feral—vicious, kicking, thrashing, biting any part of him that comes near me. He remains unaffected. One of his hands easily pins my injured wrist to the ground. His other hand shoves around my body, forcing itself between me and the ground, trapping my semi-useful tingling arm to my side. He’s using his full strength now. A thought terrifyingly clicks in my brain—maybe he was letting me hit him earlier, allowing me to get away. This has all been a perverted, warped sport to him. Alpha, the hunter, and Lila, the prey. He’s really lived up to his name.

  I was never going t
o get out of this, was I? But I’ll never give up!

  I scream and scream and scream.

  He chuckles cruelly. “You think anyone will hear you?” Blood from his lip dribbles down his chin and drips onto my cheek. “Let me rephrase that. You think anyone will care? You think I didn’t do my research when I set up here? You’re fucking dumber than I thought. I should’ve known when I first saw you, you weren’t smart enough to work for my father’s goon.”

  That’s who he thought I worked for? His father?

  That has me thinking. What does his father know? Does he know his son is…? The weight of his body pressing into me brings me sharply back. No time to analyze.

  I spit in his face and he lowers his head, my eyes blurring from the proximity. I squirm. Animalistic grunts rip from my throat. I rotate my good wrist and claw at the bits of his skin I can reach. He doesn’t move. His sweaty forehead tips toward me. I clamp my mouth shut and curl away from his face as far as my neck will go, but he comes closer anyway. His mouth touches the corner of mine, smearing blood on my lips. It tastes like rust and ashes. His tongue snakes out and licks it off of me.

  “Mmm,” he murmurs. “Tastes like defeat.” He draws a breath in through his nose, sniffing me. “I can smell the fear on you. Fucking turns me on,” he whispers coldly.

  I shy away in disgust. My grunts start to become whimpering moans, but I instantly shut them down. I won’t let myself go there—where I went last night.

  I won’t retreat. I won’t! This is not how I go! This is not over! I shift my eyes to his, showing him he hasn’t won. He’ll never win me, no matter what he does to me.

  He sniffs me again, smearing more blood on my lips. He’s not kissing me, just rubbing. Nothing I do deters him. He moves with me, feeding off my every squirm.

  “Fuck, I want you now. I don’t want to wait.”

  “No.” My voice is shredded.

  His nostrils flare, eyes wild with want. He’s an animal. No human could look at another human this way.

  “No.” I clench my mouth until my molars ache from the pressure. “NO!” I bare my teeth, neck muscles straining forward. “Go ahead and rape me, you piece of shit. You’ll never really have me. Never!”

  He’s not fazed in the slightest. I don’t know why I thought he would be. His knee comes between my legs, forcing them apart.

  I shriek in his face, “You’ll never have me!”

  Taking his chances, he eases up on my injured wrist and grabs a fistful of my hair, like I did moments ago to him. His voice drops to a deadly low. “I’m thinking a bite now and the whole cake later. And trust me, later you’ll be fucking begging me—”

  I soldier on, eager to strike a chord in him, get a rise, something more than this indifference and undisputed self-confidence. “What?” I spit. “What the fuck made you this way? You rich, privileged bastard. Your daddy couldn’t love you, so you went rogue?”

  My own words make me laugh. Rogue. Sounds like 007. His nostrils flare. I’m not sure if it was the snarky remark, the laugh, or both, but it hit home. I’ve affected him. Finally.

  I dig my hole a little deeper. “I saw your picture. The one where your parents and you are looking all normal, and they have no idea that you’re about to turn into the spawn of hell. So much potential.” I click my tongue condescendingly. With a small smile, I whisper, “I guess you just weren’t worth their efforts.”

  His smirk is gone, and in its place is a hatred more lethal than I knew existed. “You think you’ve got me figured out? You’ve done your homework. Impressive for such a dumb bitch.”

  In Lila-like fashion, I badger him more, unable to help myself. My previous sense of self-preservation has completely vanished. My loose mouth is all I have now. “The only bitch here is you, hoping to win your daddy’s attention with all your bad behavior.” My smile is a little weaker, but still says, See? You didn’t win.

  The satisfaction of it is short-lived, however.

  His jaw tenses, upper lip jumping, and I see the real bitch here is Karma. My snotty attitude and carelessness are about to reap a hefty reward. By the time I see his fist headed for my face, it’s too late. Knuckles hit my eye socket, and my skull bounces off the pavement with a sickening thud. Compartments in my brain blink out, one at a time, at breakneck speed. Blink, blink, blink, blink, blink. Eyesight is the last to go, and his satisfied smirk is the last thing I see.

  It’s lights out. Again.

  Waking up after being artificially put out for the fourth time in less than forty-eight hours is no picnic. Maybe I can’t really count last night’s episodes since the reality of that is up for debate, but this is still count two for today. There is no springing out of bed this time. No adrenaline left to surge me to my feet.

  Upon consciousness, the first thing I do is listen with my eyes closed. I hear nothing but faint drips of water in the sink, wind rattling a window, and a door creaking slightly on its hinges. My eyes dizzily blink open and…nothing. No Alpha stalker watching in the corner. No Trigger to save the day. No one to rescue or harm me. For now.

  The moldy smell makes my lip curl up. This place is worse than the room I was in last night. I assess my body for injuries. My arm no longer tingles, but my wrist is sore, probably in the early stages of bruising. The pulse in my head flicks shooting pains like there’s an unconnected wire and it’s rerouting. My eye socket feels caved in.

  I think this is the first apartment I spotted Alpha in today. I’m sprawled out on a lone mattress on the living room floor, bound with a damn trusty zip tie, and undressed to my black lacy skivvies.

  I awoke face down, and it requires a tremendous amount of effort just to get to my side. Once I’m there though, I half-heartedly look around. When I glance down at myself, I laugh. It’s not a hysterical, full-out crazy laugh. It’s more like a doomed giggle that becomes a pitiful cry. I don’t even know why anymore. I’m no longer in charge of my emotions. They seem to run me now.

  I only let that go on for a few seconds, reminding myself to conserve any and all energy, no matter what. But I’m not awake for long. The throbbing at the back of my skull plays an impossible match of ping-pong, zinging waves of pain from the back to the front to the left and the right. With my hands restrained, I can’t check for blood or measure the damage. I can’t touch it, massage it, or soothe the pain away. I’m powerless.

  Those powerless thoughts give way to unguarded nightmares.

  I’m in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. The only indicator of the time is the darkening of dusk to midnight. I’ve since flopped around and now have a decent view of the window, but I don’t go to it. I don’t try to gnaw through my shackles or saw them off in the wooden doorway. I don’t try to kick out the glass. I don’t attempt escape at all.

  It would be pointless.

  Behind the window is a row of iron bars, and installed on the front door are three locks—a deadbolt, a lock probably put in by the owners, and another one underneath it requiring a key from the outside to get in. I’m trapped.

  This apartment was sanctioned for this type of thing. For girls like me, who’ve lost all control and don’t learn their lesson the first time around. Who keep fighting even though winning was always above reach.

  It’s a prison for criminal’s prisoners.

  How could I have ever thought that what happened last night, and being given a second chance today, was in any way a message for me to stick my nosey-ass nose where it didn’t belong? Was I never meant to be a doctor? Meant to help people? Save them? I tried to save someone. I tried…

  A tear escapes, trailing over the bridge of my nose and onto the bare mattress. I find myself envying its freedom. It can escape, but I can’t. What a joke, I think as I close my eyes and sleep.

  It’s darker than dark out now. The kind of dark that only this brand of wickedness can possess. I have no idea what the actual time is. Ten, eleven, one a.m, maybe two. It doesn’t really matter. I’m just waiting out my fate in the boredo
m and torment of stillness while my mind wanders to dark corners that were never destined for light.

  I think about what led me to this and what led me here. How did this day—two days—get so screwed up? I thought I was meant to stop this. Instead, I egged on the boss and pissed him off even more. Who knows who he’s taking it out on or what he’s doing?

  God…

  My eyes sting and water, shaking loose all the false hopes I’d built up over the course of the day. What began as good intentions will end in total defeat. Evil triumphs good. But that’s real life, right?

  I never wanted this. I didn’t ask for it. I’m no hero, no martyr. I’m just a girl who tried to do the right thing, who was supposed to do the right thing and couldn’t. I’m a human tragedy that’ll die only to become a bitter angel, whether that’s soon or someday far from today. No bell will ring for me. I’ll never get my wings. If I live through tonight, I’ll be messed up for the rest of my living life, so I guess it’s neither here nor there.

  Jay’s face swims before me, a wavering, watery image. Will I ever see him again? Make love to him again? Fall asleep in his arms? Snot into his T-shirt? Close my eyes as he sings to me? Push that one damn stubborn curl out of his face?

  Will I get to tell him how much I love him one more time? Or say how damn sorry I am for dragging him into this mess?

  If you can hear me, Jay, I love you. Always have. Always will. What you did…I know you did it to protect me. Out of love. Your heart was in the right place.

  I don’t know what I’d be without you. Probably just a lonely girl whose parents make more war than love. I thought that was what all relationships were before you, but you taught me that it could be different. That we didn’t have to be a product of our circumstances, our upbringings, our families.