Crowned with Guilt

by S. K. Rose

  Chase invited himself to chill out and play some video games at my place, we started walking back together. In the few times we’ve hung out, I’ve noticed he dodges questions about his family and never wants to go home. Since I moved here, he’s the only friend I’ve really made besides Tessa, although I’m not overly thrilled about the way he eyes my sister. Small as she may be, my sister is deceivingly strong, but it doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping a close eye on him.

  As we walk, I tell him a little bit about what’s happened since Friday, aside from the more personal aspects regarding Tessa. Once he’s caught up, he stops in his tracks and gapes at me like a fish.

  “Bro, are you telling me right now that the fuckin’ Reaper moved in with you?” He eyes me incredulously.

  “The Reaper? Tessa? What the hell kinda nickname is that?” I ask, trying to keep from losing my cool.

  “She’s had the nickname since forever, man, and it just kinda stuck. In fact, I think Lilah Crother started it — you know, that hot cheerleader with the huge rack? But from what I heard, her name actually does mean reaper in Latin or some shit, plus there’s all those rumors about everyone dying around her, you know. . .” He says the last part in a whisper, like somehow, she can hear him from miles away.

  “No, Chase, I don’t know. I’ve only been in school a few weeks. You know this, man.” I shake my head at him.

  “Yeah, yeah, okay, so I don’t actually know how much of it is true, but the rumors go that she stabbed and killed a boy when she was just a kid, that her drug lord father died in prison seconds after getting a letter from her. There was also this kid Vincent who got cancer after he started hanging out with her. Oh! And that she sacrifices small animals to the devil. Matt says he even once saw her locker full of blood and feathers. She’s fucked up-crazy in the head, you know?”

  “And you really bought all that? Bull, it’s a bunch of gossip. She’s just had a hard life and crappy parents, she’s not some psycho murderer.” I sigh, acknowledging that I’m defending her when I don’t really know that much about her.

  Regardless, I know it’s a load of crap. Anyone who takes the time to talk to her can see she just runs her mouth to protect herself from pain.

  She’s the victim here, not the villain.

  “Uh huh, say what you want. I mean, she’s got that crazy hot chick thing going on and all, but I wouldn’t want her sleeping under my roof.”

  “Just, shut up about it, man. I don't care what you’ve heard. I expect you to be nice to her,” I round.

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Or you can head home now,” I finish. His mouth snaps shut, and he nods.

  An hour later, when the girls walk in with arms full of shopping bags, Chase is screaming obscenities at the large screen in the living room.

  “Die, filthy zombie cocksuckers!” The girls stop in their tracks and stare at Chase, who’s hopping from foot to foot, bashing his fingers on the controller in a failed attempt to not die. As the screen goes red, he drops to his knees and raises his arms to the sky in full dramatics. “Gaming gods! Why hath thou forsaken me?” He’s yelling to the ceiling, and finally notices the girls when they burst into laughter. Jumping up quickly, he shoots them a cocky grin, looking completely unfazed at being caught acting like a complete idiot.

  No shame, not an ounce of it.

  “Well, hello there, beautiful.” He’s gone to one knee before Beth, yanking on her hand to kiss it. Before his lips have barely puckered, she rips her hand away and shoves him in the shoulder with her shoe—just enough for him to wobble and fall over. Resilient as ever, he bounces right back up, this time in front of Tessa.

  “My Fair Reaper,” he mocks with a solemn nod and a bow. Before I can yell from him to shut up, Tessa snaps to her own defense. Without a moment of hesitation, she throws her weight into punching him in the same shoulder.

  “Aaaah fuck! Dead arm, dead arm, woman!” he wails, flopping back onto the couch next to me.

  “Fuck off, Chase, or I will actually hurt you next time,” she says, baring all her white teeth at him and snapping a bite. I swear he flinches. Chase looks over at me, raising his eyebrows as if to say, Well, you gonna do something about this? waving his hands in exasperation toward Tessa. I just shrug and grin over at her.

  God, she’s a force of nature. The vulnerable side of her I’ve seen is something she’s hidden under layers of anger and grit. A memory that's recently resurfaced was my childhood obsession with natural disasters. I created diagrams, watch documentaries, and read anything I could get my hands on to learn more. It struck me suddenly that Tessa reminds me of a tornado.

  In the funnel of the storm, the real Tessa is trapped. That girl I was lucky enough to catch glimpses of at the bookstore: easy to laugh and smile, total nerd, smart as a whip, funny, with a dry sense of humor, and even a little sensitive. Feeling threatened is when she starts to pick up speed; the winds whip around, collecting small debris in the form of animosity, hostility, and aggression. The more threatened she feels the more powerful she becomes, a true force of destruction. At these peak speeds, she feels virtually indestructible. She’s able to direct all her pain into a rage that gives her a sense of power—something created only by a lifetime of feeling weak and powerless.

  In these strange thoughts, I find that the way I felt about tornados remains the same; yes they are terrifying and destructive, but they are also magnificent, breathtaking. They are a force to be reckoned with.

  There’s some about the fierce way they forge their own path in a constant battle to simply survive. She protects herself in the only way she knows how, and I find her will to live awe-inspiring.

  In my field of vision, and blocking my view of Tessa, is snapping fingers.

  “Earth to Drew, stop staring at the girl, you perv.” Chase smirks before returning his attention to the game.

  The four of us spend the rest of the afternoon in the living room, talking crap and taking turns with the controllers to shoot zombies. At one point, Tessa escapes upstairs, returning with a book, resulting in Chase teasing her, from a distance of course.

  When mom got home, she decided to order pizza and left us to work in her office. When Chase wasn’t shamelessly flirting with my sister, he was trying to engage Tessa in conversation. If he wasn’t such a prick all the time, I might’ve figured he was trying to help pull her out of her shell and stop hiding behind the book. Surprisingly, he eventually broke her down, and the more she responded to him, the more jealous I felt. They fell into casual banter, and she even stopped chiding him for calling her “Reap”.

  We laughed, yelled, fought, and shoved our faces with pizza, and then it was time for Chase to head home. Beth yelled something about her “beauty sleep” and disappeared into her room after saying goodnight. Looking over to Tessa, I watched her eyes blink sleepily with her book long forgotten on the sofa. Offering my hand, I helped her up out of the sea of couch pillows as she gave me a sheepish smile. We started our way up the stairs to our rooms.

  “Chase is a dick, but he’s not as terrible as I thought.” She sounds thoughtful and another pang of jealousy hits me.

  “No, he’s just a dick,” I say gruffly, making her laugh.

  Stopping at her door in the dimly lit hallway, I examine the cute arch of her nose and the faint freckles on her collarbone.

  “You jealous?” A playful smile crosses her lips as she bats her long eyelashes. She’s toying with me, but two can play at that game. I take a few steps closer until I hear her back thump against the closed door of her new bedroom. Her breath quickens as she looks up at me with surprise.

  “Should I be?” I ask with more of a serious tone than intended.

  “No,” she whispers, and time around us slows as a new, unrestrained part of me threatens to burst forward and devour her.

  Looking up beneath long lashes, her piercing blue eyes dare me to be bold.

  A nervous tug of her bottom lip begs me to rake my teeth across it.


  Her unsteady hand trembles to be taken and led away to my room, where I can explore every inch of her body.

  I reach my hand beneath the bottom of her shirt and graze the soft skin above her hip. My brazen fingers travel across bare skin until they reach the thick scar that travels along her ribs, the very scar she hides beneath ink. A tattoo of a reaper’s scythe, which must have come after her nickname.

  There’s still much I don’t understand, but feel I should; like there’s something on the tip of my tongue, a missing piece just out of my grasp. Although her eyes flinch when I reach her scar, she doesn’t move an inch, and no protest crosses her lips. The tips of my fingers find the slightly raised skin where I can easily outline her tattoo, her flushed skin breaks out in goosebumps with my soft touch.

  Thinking about her tattoo is a harsh reminder that my mind may want to play make-believe and fill in the unknown pieces, but I really don’t know this girl. She’s a mystery riddled with secrets. Why would everyone except me believe she’s hurt others, or that she’s crazy?

  Maybe I’m the one blinded because of some teenage lust. I feel my fingers draw back as the questions bubble to the surface.

  I see my hesitation reflected into her eyes and can do nothing as waves of confusion and hurt roll across her features. Then there is a wall of solid wood being slammed in my face. With a frustrated growl, I head to my room.

  Chapter 37

  ─────

  Tessa

  My thoughts force me awake long before the alarm Blossom set on my phone can do its job. It’s disconcerting how easy it is to slip into this lifestyle of comfort. An actual warm bed to sleep in, delicious meals and a stocked fridge—not to mention being fretted over the way only a parent can really do.

  It’s not something I could ever take for granted, but it’s something I could get used to.

  I desperately need to sort my mind before I can begin the day, it’s a fucking mess up here with all these changes.

  I need to drop by and see Ace soon before he calls the dogs on me. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s sent someone to come bring me back when I’ve been away for too long. I can’t stop working at Oasis and it pains me to know I’ll have to keep that a secret. None of the Blackwells would understand, especially with the way Andrew reacted last time he found me there. I’m dead-set on graduating and going to college, even if it’s just a community college—but that takes money.

  I’ll also need to pay back Mr. and Mrs. Blackwell for the money they’ve spent on me, starting with this fancy smartphone. I don’t want to owe them, or anyone for that matter, any more than I have to.

  Just thinking about Andrew has my stomach rolling. Talk about mixed fucking signals. One minute he’s acting jealous and comes undeniably close to kissing me, and the next minute he looks indecisive and—repulsed? Am I repulsive to him? If so, why lead me on? That’s fucking cruel.

  My Andrew was never cruel, but once more I have to remind myself that he’s not my Andrew anymore. He’s grown up and forgotten me, and maybe that’s for the best. I can’t let a moment of weakness happen again. I’ve been hot and bothered before, but I’ve never been turned to mush. One touch and this boy made me into a goddamn puddle? I don’t fucking think so.

  I’m called Tessa the Reaper, not Tessa the Puddle.

  I can’t let anyone of the lesser gender faze me, no matter where I lay my head at night. I need to refocus on school and getting the hell away from this town and out of Ace’s watchful eye and possessive grasp.

  Before I can swing my legs over and get up, there’s one last thought poking and prodding around my brain.

  Chase. His dark brown hair is kept short in the back with bangs that sweep across his forehead, constantly falling into his dark eyes, his facial hair follows his jawline and is kept trimmed. His ears are gauged a few sizes up and snakebites sit snug on his bottom lip. He always wears high tops and a shirt with something obnoxious on it. Last night I think it was ‘Drink ’til you want me’. He’s always been a bit of a class clown, and up to this point has avoided me like the plague, much like the rest of my classmates.

  The beginning of the night he sat as far away from me as possible, but as the night went on, and after I beat him in five back to back zombie killing matches, he started actually talking to me.

  Somewhere along the lines of my guarded observation, I saw something of myself in the way he shielded himself from the world, an all-too familiar flicker of pain in his eyes.

  My weapon and shield have always been anger and malice. His is an obnoxious attitude and tasteless humor.

  Then, when Chase thought no one was looking, he would favor his ribs with a grimace. There were also quiet but sharp intakes of breath whenever Andrew would return a playful punch. He’s nursing some injuries, and it became clear as to why he avoids going home. Between shocking some, and making others laugh, he’s able to distract everyone from the emotional and physical pain he endures.

  At school I write off everyone around me as annoyingly happy, or pathetic sheeple. Did I think it was making me superior to my classmates? Seems to me, it just made me naïve. I was abused and treated no better than a pile of garbage, but I got away and turned out. . . relatively okay.

  What about Chase? How long has he been suffering under the hand of another? How long has he endured without becoming a miserable lump like me? The fact is, he hasn’t gotten away. He goes to school and then it’s right back to what I assume is his own nightmare.

  It’s been like some sort of corny lifetime movie epiphany, but it’s allowed me to peek through the self-absorbed film I’ve wrapped myself in.

  A blaring noise stops my train of thought as I look around in a panic.

  Oh, Jesus, where is that god-awful noise coming from?

  Somewhere nearby a song plays loudly, and it sounds like. . . ugh, country music?

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, this horrible song is coming from that tiny phone on my nightstand? It’s gonna wake up the whole house.

  I snatch up the phone and demand for the country man to shut up, but the music still pours from the speaker.

  I hit all over the screen; how can it still be making noise?

  Time to kill it. Time to kill it dead!

  Throwing the phone across the room, it lands with a thud on the carpet and I listen for my victory of silence.

  But today is the day I fall in battle as the chorus immediately starts back up. It doesn’t take rocket science for me to figure out the name of the song, and why that sneaky, country-lovin’ bitch picked it for my alarm: Please Remember Me.

  Hahahahahaha. Oh, I’m gonna kill that bitch.

  The phone has defeated me this day. Time to retreat.

  As I go to jump off my bed and run from the room, the door flies open and Andrew, wearing only boxers, stands there glaring sleepily at me.

  He stomps toward the devil phone and silences it with a simple flick of his hand. Tossing it on the bed, he shoots me one more groggy look of annoyance right before he shuffles back out without a word.

  In the span of the thirty seconds or so that Andrew was in my room, I had two thoughts.

  One, Andrew is as much of a morning person as I am; the boy needs coffee stat.

  Two, those V-cuts I saw traveling down his abs only to be hidden away by boxers should be a crime, a damn crime.

  I yelp when the door flies open again. Don’t these invalids knock?

  Blossom, decked out in pink cowboy boots and peppy as ever, bounds into the room, laughing like a hyena.

  “Like the song I set for your alarm?”

  I throw a pillow at her, but unlike me, she’s alert and dodges it with ease.

  “Need me to show you how to work your smartphone?” she goads.

  Another pillow is gracefully dodged.

  “C’mon, get showered and dressed, slowpoke!” This time, she’s smart enough to exit the room before I can reach for something that can do more damage.

  I groan and wonder what madhouse I�
��ve fallen into before sliding out of bed. After a quick, hot shower, I slip into some new jeans and an old Led Zeppelin shirt. I tie up my boots, put on a touch of non-scary makeup, and grab my leather jacket before heading downstairs.

  Mr. Blackwell makes breakfast this morning, some sort of delicious bacon omelet that we all scarf down. Mrs. Blackwell forces me to eat second helpings, which I happily oblige.

  Along with her children, she tries to give me lunch money, something I outright refuse, but after a stern look, she simply turns to Andrew and hands it to him. “Make sure she eats and maybe add a brownie, would you, sweetie?” With a smirk in my direction he nods, and we are set on our way to school with a reminder to, “Be good, or be good at it!”

  It’s all so surreal, like I did a Freaky Friday body swap with a normal teenager.

  Stepping onto the school parking lot with the twins is another bizarre experience, to say the least. Adjusting the sunglasses I stole from Andrew over my eyes, I discreetly watch my fellow classmates doing double-takes, and some just blatantly staring at us in shock.

  Putting myself in their shoes, I suppose it was a tad odd. The shiny new twins already had the whole school buzzing. Their dad is apparently famous (I keep forgetting to ask how). Then there’s Andrew’s obvious good looks, and Blossom’s public humiliation of the head cheerleader.

  Now we really shake things up by throwing the Reaper into the mix, never seen socializing, let alone riding in a car with anyone. . . ever. Guess it would be quite the sight.

  The three of us head over to some picnic tables in the yard and wait for the bell. Chase spots us, comes over, and plops down right between Beth and me.

  “Morning, Reap.” Swiveling his head, he examines me and Beth. “Looks like you ladies got your beauty sleep.” He grins as we groan in unison from his cheesy line. Scooting away from Chase, Beth turns her attention to me.

  “Tessa, you’ll never believe who asked me to the dance. Scott Kain.”

  Well shit, not like I had plans to go, but now I’m definitely not going.