Bully (Angel & Demons Trilogy Book 1)

by Ashley Love

  Bonnie is quiet for a minute, and then she nods. "Go ahead."

  I gulp and stand shakily. I still feel weak, but I think the food and drink helped. I'm not feeling as dizzy anymore. I don't look at Bonnie as I leave the kitchen, ducking under the doorway and heading down the hall to the tarot card bathroom. I close the door, and turn around slowly. After a long moment of hesitation, I raises my eyes to the mirror.

  My face is a fucking wreck.

  Almost the second I see the bruises and gashes, I burst into tears. I press my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs, and grip the edge of the counter to hold myself up as my entire body shakes. I stand there sobbing for several minutes, crying so hard it hurts my already vulnerable throat and make my bruised ribs ache something awful.

  I'm crying so hard I don't hear the quiet knock at the bathroom door, and I flinch when Bonnie open the door slowly. When she sees that I'm crying, her faces crumples in sympathy, and she closes and locks the bathroom door, coming forward and instantly wrapping her arms around me. I just melt into her, gripping her sweater in my shaking hands, my whole body trembling with every bone-shattering sob.

  She shushes me and rocks me like a little kid, and I should feel embarrassed, but I don't. Not right now. I'm too busy trying not to pass out, trying to gulp in enough air between each wracking sob. Bonnie is saying something to me, maybe murmuring words of comfort, but I'm crying so hard I can't hear her, can't understand her soothing words. But the sound of her voice is calming enough, and an immeasurable number of minutes later, I've stopped crying so hard, and I'm just sniffling and clinging to Bonnie like she's the only person left in the world.

  And even after everything, I still want Zane. I still want to feel his arms around me. I still want to kiss those full lips. I keep rubbing my fingers together where I swear Zane was holding my hand in the bathtub earlier.

  Bonnie eventually pulls away, ushering me over and sitting me down on the lavender toilet seat like she's done before. She grabs a wet washcloth and pulls up the stool, sitting down and wiping tears and snot away from my face, dabbing gently at my wounds, taking my chin in her hand and pulling my head up so I'm forced to look at her.

  I calm down enough to where there are only a few stray tears sliding out of my eyes every couple of minutes, and I hug myself, gripping my sides with my fingernails, trying to remember how to be a sane human being who doesn't have a huge crush on someone who nearly kills them.

  "What can I do?" Bonnie asks gently, and I sniff, swallowing convulsively, my head throbbing and my body weak.

  "I saw a deer," I whimper through my fading tears. I know I sound crazy, and I expect her to be confused. But instead, Bonnie just gives me a little smile.

  "What kind of deer?" she asks, brushing my messy hair back from my face, wiping away a few more tears.

  I laugh once, a watery, disgusting thing, and I'm pretty sure I drool a little too. God, I'm a mess. "A whitetail deer," I reply, sniffing and smiling a little, my bruised jaw protesting painfully. "It was in the woods. It kept licking my face."

  Bonnie laughs a little. "Well that's something you don't hear every day," she comments, standing and filling the glass at the sink with more water and handing it to me. My stomach is aching, it's so full, but I force himself to drink the water anyway.

  Then, I grip the glass like it's a lifeline and look at Bonnie. And I crack.

  I tell her everything.

  Everything that happened in the woods.

  I tell her about Zane and his friends attacking me, and Zane hitting me so many times I forgot what was real and what was a dream. I tell her about the deer, and the deserts, and the waterfalls, and the merry-go-rounds. I tell her about how cold it was. I tell her about waking up in Zane's bathtub.

  And I tell her about how much I like Zane. I tell her that every time I see him, I feel weak in the knees, and I want nothing more than to just kiss him, and look into his big green eyes, and get lost in everything involving him.

  And Bonnie listens. She listens to it all and doesn't judge me. She doesn't look disappointed. She doesn't zone out halfway through and think about what she's going to buy at the grocery store. She listens. And she lets me speak.

  "Zane Peterson," she hums when I'm finally done telling her everything, "I know that name. That boy has a reputation in this town. His father has a reputation in this town."

  I swallow and nod. "I know," I say, feeling suddenly so exhausted I could sleep for days, even though I've been unconscious for most of the past 24 hours. "But I can't help it, Bonnie. I really like him. And I can't stop."

  She hums again, pursing her lips. "You know, it doesn't have to be a bad thing, you liking him."

  My eyebrows press together in confusion, and I ignore the pain that flares up from my swollen eye. "Why? I mean you saw what he did to me. It's unhealthy."

  Bonnie smiles a little, her eyes watery with sympathy. But it's the good kind of sympathy. It's isn't pitiful or condescending—it's merciful. "But he came back," she points out. "He came back out into those woods, and he made it right. He came and got you and he helped you."

  I swallow, looking away as I consider that. "But it doesn't change the fact that he and his friends left me out there all night. That they attacked me. I could have died, Bonnie."

  She nods. "Yes, you could have. But you didn't. Zane made a huge mistake, but from what you tell me, he seems to have done his best to make it right in his own way."

  I sniff again as I look at her. I don't know what to say, so I stay quiet.

  She gives me a little smile. "Now I'm not saying what he did is okay at all, nor is it easily forgivable. But he did come back. You should consider that before you think of yourself as messed up in the head for liking him. You can't help who you like, honey."

  I swallow and drop my eyes, wiping at my running nose with the back of my hand. I nod finally, and then sigh, pushing myself to my feet. A wave of fatigue washes over me again and I grab the counter to keep myself from falling over. Bonnie stands quickly and grabs my arm as I sway.

  "Well now that you're done making a mess of yourself, let's get you to the doctor," she says, pulling me towards the door gently.

  "Oh, no, Bonnie, it's alright," I say, shaking my head. "I think I just need to sleep. I don't want to go to the hospital."

  Bonnie rolls her eyes, tutting to herself. "I'm taking you to the doctor no matter if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming, sugar," she says sternly. "Now are you gonna make this easy?"

  I bite the inside of my cheek and sigh, blinking away another wave of fatigue. I wonder if I have a serious head wound or something with how dizzy I feel. I look at Bonnie and she waits with raised eyebrows until I finally nod, giving in, and she smiles.

  "Good girl," she says. "Now go wait in the car for me. I'll be right there."

  I walk unsteadily out of the bathroom and down the hallway, passing Sophia and Ethan in the living room. Sophia jumps up as I walk by and runs over to me. "Are you going home?" she asks, her face still stained a little with tears.

  I shake my head. "Hospital," I reply, rubbing my aching head and blinking heavily in exhaustion, "I just had a little accident."

  Sophia gives me a hard look. "How many more times does this have to happen before you stop pretending everything is okay?"

  I force myself to give her a little half-smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I lie, and then pat her on the head and walk out the front door. I hear Bonnie behind me telling Sophia that she's in charge for a couple hours while they're gone, and that dinner is on the counter.

  I climb into the passenger seat of Bonnie's old wood-paneled Station Wagon, closing the door and leaning my forehead against the cool glass window. It makes me colder than I like, but it helps soothe the aching in my head.

  Bonnie gets in a couple minutes later and starts up the car, driving at a careful speed down the street and towards the edge of town where the small hospital is. The
same hospital where I went after Slate lit me on fire. I shiver at the memory and hug myself, looking over at Bonnie.

  "Can you promise me something?" I ask.

  She glances at me. "Anything, sugar."

  I bite my lip, wondering whether I'm making a mistake. "I don't want to press charges against Zane and his friends," I say. "I don't want Zane to get in trouble for hurting me, when he came back and saved me this afternoon. Can you tell the doctors a lie? Just something that will keep them from calling the police?"

  Bonnie purses her lips. "I'm not going to lie to them," she says after a moment of consideration. "Not completely. I'll tell them you were attacked by a wild animal or something. Just let me worry about it. I'll make sure the police aren't called."

  I smile gratefully at her. "Thank you, Bonnie," I say, before adding, "For everything."

  She reaches over and pats me on the knee. "Let's make sure everything's okay in that silly head of yours."

  I huff a little and look out his window. I can't help but think that my head will never be okay. Not as long as I still like Zane Peterson.

  36

  He doesn't know how to feel. But that's sort of a primary aspect of Zane's personality, he supposes. Being unable to define how he feels. He's walking through the woods, and he purposely left his jacket at home because he wanted to be cold like Ariel was cold last night, all night, out in these woods. He spent a good hour or so trying to think of what he could do to make things up to her. To make things better. And the only thing he could think of was going to retrieve her backpack from the woods where Gordon left it last night.

  She needs her backpack, right?

  It's not nearly enough to make up for what he did, a backpack for an eye. But Zane thinks maybe it's a start. He wants to do better. He wants to be better. That's how Ariel makes him feel. But in this moment, as he trudges back down the worn path through the woods, he feels lower than he's felt in a long time.

  He can't remember the last time he hated himself this much. He can't remember the last time he lost control like that and hurt someone the way he hurt Ariel in those woods last night. He's never hurt someone that badly before. Never.

  Maybe it was a crime of passion. He likes Ariel so much he had to hurt her. But the truth is, Zane was so drunk and in so much pain yesterday that he didn't think of her as a person at all. At least not until it was too late. It had nothing to do with her—Zane was hurting Slate in his head when he was hurting Ariel in real life. But it doesn't make it right, it doesn't make it excusable. Just because Zane wasn't in control of himself at the time doesn't make any of this any less wrong.

  He still hates himself with every fiber of his being.

  He's still waiting for the police to knock on his front door—hoping for it even, because he deserves that.

  He's still wracking his angry, regretful brain trying to think of ways to make this up to Ariel. He will make this up to Ariel...somehow.

  He finds her backpack quicker than he found her earlier this afternoon, probably because he's not panicking and running around like a madman, hung over and freaking out. He reaches down and picks up her backpack, cradling it reverently in his hands for a moment. One strap is broken, and the teeth of the zipper towards the top are bent and useless. But it's the least Zane can do, returning her backpack to her.

  He slings the bag onto his shoulder, and as he begins to walk away, he suddenly remembers something. Ariel had an iPod with her too. He has a vague recollection of Ryker tearing it out of her ears and stuffing it into his own pocket. Ryker had stolen Ariel's iPod yesterday.

  Zane scans the ground with his eyes. Maybe Ryker dropped it? Maybe he left it there? Maybe he was a dick and broke it? But Zane sees no iPod. He pulls open Ariel's backpack and rifles around inside, but the iPod isn't in there either. Damn it. Ryker probably has it at his house.

  Zane really doesn't want to walk all the way to Ryker's place. But then he thinks of that broken, awful look in Ariel's eyes while she was leaving his house today, and he grinds his teeth so hard he can hear them creaking, setting his jaw and turning in the direction of Ryker's house.

  Ryker's parents own a huge old private residence in a clearing at the edge of the woods of Windsor Falls. It's one of the wealthiest houses in the entire town, and it has a rich history, sort of like the rest of the town itself. Zane has only been to his house once, and the way Ryker treated his mother pissed Zane off, so he never went back. At least not until now.

  Ryker's mother answers the door, and Zane realizes Ryker must still be at school, probably hanging out at The Docks. It's only about four in the afternoon.

  He charms his way inside, saying that Ryker borrowed his iPod and he needs it for a project or some other bullshit, and she happily allows him in. Zane rifles through Ryker's ridiculously-large room for almost twenty minutes before he finds the iPod buried under papers on his desk.

  Ryker already has three iPods in his room, the spoiled dick, but Zane knows this one is Ariel's, because when he turns it on, music from Oliver Twist is on there, and that's something Ryker would never listen to. Zane actually quirks a little smile as he goes through some of the music on Ariel's iPod. Most of it is stuff from musicals or the scores for various movies like Lord Of The Rings. She even has Star Wars music on there, which fills Zane's chest with a swell of pride before he realizes that he's allowing himself to think of Ariel as his friend.

  They aren't friends. Ariel is too good.

  Zane swallows and pockets the iPod, thanking Ryker's mother on the way out of the house and trudging back through the woods. He's tempted to just find a place in the woods to sit, and then stay out here all night. He wants to see what it was like for Ariel last night. He wants to lay out here and get frostbite on his earlobes like he saw on Ariel's this afternoon, and have a deer standing there licking his face. He wants to have done to him what was done to her, because that's what he deserves.

  But Liam is at home, and his little brother still needs him. If Zane decides to just lay in the woods all night and then come home to find that Mike had been in a bad mood and done something to hurt Liam, he doesn't think he could ever forgive himself. Even if he's never going to forgive himself for what he did to Ariel.

  Running his thumb over the edge of the iPod in his pocket, Zane heads home, his mind racing. He's still hungover, and he still hasn't eaten anything all day, but even so, when he gets home, he doesn't allow himself a drink or some food. Because Ariel didn't have any food and water in the woods last night. Why should he get to have some when she had nothing?

  Liam is in his room when Zane gets home, and Zane drops Ariel's backpack and iPod off in his own room, poking at the origami Yoda mobile once, before heading to Liam's. He wanders in there and flops down on his back on Liam's bed like he always does, staring up at the plastic stars on the ceiling, not yet glowing because it's not dark out yet. He glances at the clock on Liam's nightstand. It's half past four now.

  "You okay?" Liam asks, eyeing Zane from where he's sitting at his desk working on homework. Zane glances at his brother, and for once, he can't laugh and brush it off. Because this is Ariel he's worried about. Ariel is different. Ariel isn't something you just shove down and forget about.

  Zane sighs and runs a hand over his face, sitting up and hanging his legs off the bed. "I did something bad, Liam," he admits, but he's not sure if he wants to tell Liam everything. Liam still looks up to him. Liam idolizes him, admires him. Zane is selfish, and he doesn't want Liam to stop looking at him like he could kick anyone's ass six ways to Sunday.

  But he doesn't have anyone else to talk to. Liam is the person he goes to when he needs to talk, although he really hates these stupid heart to hearts. Liam is a ball of mush and love and optimism and disgusting words of encouragement, and he loves talking about feelings, while Zane hates it. But he needs to sometimes. Like therapy. Liam is this receptacle, and he's perfect for it. He's the perfect person to vent to. And that has Zane all con
flicted.

  "What did you do?" Liam asks.

  Zane clenches his jaw and rubs the back of his neck in frustration. "Just something...really bad, okay?" he says after a minute. "And I don't know how to make it right. I don't know how to tell someone I'm sorry."

  Liam studies him, setting down his pencil and turning sideways in his chair so he's facing Zane on the bed. He seems to hesitate for a long moment, swallowing hard, before mustering up some sort of courage.

  "Does this have something to do with what happened in the woods Friday night?" he asks slowly. Liam's been pretty good about not asking Zane why he was burning his clothes and showed up looking like a fucked up mess Friday night, so Zane tries not to get mad when Liam mentions it.

  He grits his teeth to keep from snapping at his little brother. "I'm not going to talk about that," he says flatly. "Just drop it, Liam."

  Liam sighs and lowers his eyes, looking a little defeated for a moment before looking back up. "Well how can I help? What did you do?"

  Zane sits there for a minute, contemplating whether or not to tell Liam about this. He weighs the pros and cons in his head. Telling Liam probably won't make him feel better, to be honest. It'll be just putting some of his problems on Liam's small shoulders too. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.

  Eventually, he shakes his head a little. "You know what, never mind," he says with a stiff smile, and he sees Liam's face fall a little in disappointment. "Let's just chill out for a bit, huh?"

  Liam presses his lips together and then nods tightly, turning back to his homework and picking up his pencil again. Zane looks at him for a moment. Liam hates it when Zane shuts down like that, right when he thinks they're getting somewhere. Zane doesn't understand why Liam constantly wants him to talk about his feelings as if it's going to help anything. But whatever.

  With a sigh, Zane lays back on the bed again, looking at the ceiling, counting the stars and watching the light from the setting sun as it stretches across the ceiling in prismatic shapes. It's December—the sun sets so early now, around six every night. Zane tries to focus on the sun, tries to focus on anything else. But of course, his mind wanders back to Ariel, which inevitably leads to Zane thinking about what a piece of shit he is.