by B. B. Hamel
The street was quiet. I could still hear the distant thump of bass from the party, ridiculously loud in an otherwise nice neighborhood. Addler’s parents lived in a McMansion in a development filled with McMansions, and with the exception of the expanse of deserted land I stood in, everything was pristine and white and painted and nice.
I didn’t want nice things, not tonight.
I waited for ten minutes before I began to wonder if Jarrod would actually show.
It had taken me months to work up the courage to approach him. Months and months of dreaming, imagining, planning, after years and years of working and saving and scrimping to gather every dime, every dollar I could with the thought that one day I’d get my revenge if the world wouldn’t help get it for me.
I’d gotten my first babysitting job at thirteen. Back then, I’d come home smelling like a poopy diaper, tired and itching with boredom, and I’d shove the meager cash I’d been handed into the back of my closet in a shoebox. I’d close my eyes and picture Dr. Silver as he smiled and touched my body and whispered that everything would be okay if I let him manipulate me the way he needed. It had felt wrong, sick and wrong, and that disgust had never left, not after all these years.
If anything, it had festered.
After I’d told my parents and they’d refused to believe me, the memory of Dr. Silver touching my prepubescent body was like an infection. It crawled under my skin and each night I dreamed about him taking advantage of me, touching me in ways he never should’ve. When my brother admitted that it had happened to him too, I’d lost my freaking mind, and ever since that moment, my life had been devoted to punishing that bastard doctor.
If nobody believed me, I’d do it myself.
When I’d first met Jarrod, I’d thought he was a total piece of garbage. He was loud, angry, and mean, and treated Robyn like trash—even though she was constantly making excuses for him and trying to help him with schoolwork. He never would’ve passed high school if it hadn’t been for her letting him copy homework. And yet we had all somehow landed at Blackwoods—Jarrod because of football and because of his connection to Robyn’s parents.
I hadn’t thought he’d be a good candidate for this little plan until about a year earlier when he’d started getting in fights.
The darkness was split by a sudden bright light. I covered my eyes as an engine roared and something came screaming toward me. I stumbled backward, throwing my hands up protectively, but the bike slipped past as Jarrod slammed on the brake, pulling it to a skidding stop.
He sat astride a humming dirt bike. His hair shone in the meager light, and his eyes burned with a shocking passion. I hadn’t expected him to show up—but there he was, staring at me like a shark.
A fresh cut oozed blood over his right eye, and his lips were puffy and swollen.
“You got in a fight,” I said, taking a step toward him.
“Get on the bike.”
I hesitated. That thing looked like a death trap.
“No, thanks. We can talk here.”
“Get on or I’m done with this.”
I looked over my shoulder. There was nobody here to help if things went wrong.
Jarrod wasn’t safe. I knew all the rumors, and I’d witnessed his vicious rage up close. He could lose himself in seconds and turn into a violent psychopath, using his chiseled, muscular body as a weapon, soaking up damage with a gleeful smile as he punished anyone nearby. He was a nightmare.
He was exactly what I needed.
I got on. He smelled like lavender and motor oil as I clung to him. He adjusted my hands, pressing my palms against his cut stomach.
“Hold on tight,” he said, revved the engine, then took off.
I wanted to scream, but it would’ve been pointless.
Wind whipped my hair. He sped into the dark woods, moving down a path at a reckless pace. I had no clue how he saw where we were going. Maybe he knew it by feel or by smell or by some other sense I hadn’t discovered yet. Jarrod was nearly inhuman in my eyes.
I clung to him like my life depended on it and found myself floating along behind his massive body, face buried in his strong back, feeling the growl of power between my legs and marveling at the way he handled the bike through the winding forest paths.
We broke out of the tree line and rode down a short slope. A chain-link fence loomed ahead with wicked barbed wire coiled along the top. He came to a halt and killed the engine.
“You can let go now.”
I released him and quickly got off. He followed and leaned the bike on a stand. He wiped his hands on his jeans, glanced at me, used his sleeve to dab at the blood on his face, then walked toward the fence.
I followed. “Where are we going?”
“In here.” He reached a point in the fence where the links had been cut. They were cleverly hidden along the line of a metal post, almost impossible to notice unless you knew where to look. He peeled it open and held it. “Ladies first.”
I walked through.
Might as well. I’d come this far.
He followed, then took the lead. We moved down through some underbrush, into another dense forest, then came out the other side.
I slowed and stared at the quarry.
I’d known this was back here, but I’d never seen it up close before. The cliffs were massive—we were hundreds of feet above the pit. Down below, black, still water gleamed with starlight and moon spray, the chalky liquid reflecting the heavens like a mirror.
Jarrod walked right up to the edge and stood staring out over the cliffs, down into the black.
I could push him. Shove him hard and send him tumbling. I’d already played my hand—he knew I wanted to kill someone. If he didn’t want to be a part of it, then he’d be a problem.
Or maybe he’d already had the same thought, and he’d brought me here to make sure I couldn’t do anything drastic.
I took a few steps back, but he didn’t turn to look at me.
“I’ve never killed someone before.”
His voice was matter-of-fact, almost bored. Like he was answering a question in history class.
I hesitated a few feet away. I could turn and run. I might reach the fence first and slip through.
Or he’d catch me and do whatever he wanted.
A thrill ran down my spine.
“I’ve never had sex. There’s a first time for everything.”
I couldn’t tell if he was smiling or not. It was probably the wrong time to joke.
“I should be curious why you chose to ask me, but I guess I’m not. I know what people think of me.”
“Are they wrong?”
He shook his head. Still not looking back. “No, they’re not.”
“Are you saying you’ll do this?”
“I’m saying I’m as fucked up as you think I am. I’m saying you chose the one person in this whole shitty town and absurdly privileged college that just might take a life for you. I’m trying to decide how I feel about being that person, and can I be honest with you?”
“Of course. I think we should be extremely honest with each other from here on out if we’re going to make this work.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t feel much of anything. Does that mean I’m broken?”
“I don’t know what it means.” I took a step closer, heart pounding. “I’m not sure I care.”
His lips quirked. God, he was beautiful. The moonlight bathed him in a silver glow and he looked like he was floating in the black, right there on the edge of the cliff, inches away from falling to his death.
He didn’t seem bothered by the proximity to the fall.
“You should care. If we do this, I’ll own you.”
“My virginity. That’s one night of sex. I could even argue that’s one thrust.”
“No, freak. If I do this, I fuck you. I take you, again and again, until your blood slicks my cock and you’re screaming my name.”
I blinked rapidly, trying not to let my insane heartbeat s
how. I must’ve been blushing like crazy, because my legs felt weak, and the image of him taking me—really taking me, not halfway, not gentle, not kind, but like the animal I knew he was—made my slit drip and buzz with desire. I was insane, I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself.
Jarrod was a specimen. A terrifying, horrible specimen, but I knew that if I let him, he could make me feel something I’d never imagined.
He could take me places I was too afraid to go.
He could ruin me, and I might love it.
“One night, as much as you want. That’s my best offer.”
“One night with the virgin freak.” His head tilted. “And all I have to do is murder a man.”
“Murder the man that molested me and my brother.”
He nodded and looked away. “Dr. Silver. I know the guy. He donated to the high school football team. He even came and gave us a demonstration of all that neck-cracking shit. Some of the guys went to him for extra work on the weekends.”
“They were probably getting touched.”
“Yeah, maybe. He seemed nice, though. Everyone liked him.”
My anger flared and my jaw clenched. I was tempted to kick Jarrod in the back and ask him if he believed he’d fall as he hung above the drop.
“Are you questioning what happened to me?”
“No, freak, I’m not. I’m saying that insidious shit’s been putting a good face out there for a long time. He’s a public figure, and a sudden disappearance is going to draw some very curious eyes.”
I calmed myself with several deep breaths. “I never said this would be easy.”
“No, you didn’t.” He gestured with one hand. “Stand next to me.”
I hesitated, chewing my lip. “I don’t like heights.”
“Get over here, freak.”
I glanced over my shoulder, back toward the fence. I could barely make it out through the thin trees and bushes. Safety back there. Escape from this stupidity.
I stepped forward until I was right next to him.
He grabbed my arm and held it tight.
I thought I might fall. I felt dizzy but he wouldn’t let me jerk away. He held me hard, his grip iron, his stance like a skyscraper. I stared down, down, down, at the dark water below, at my death, my doom, my future. If I went through with this plan, if I let Jarrod kill a man—no, I had to be honest, if I helped Jarrod kill a man—then I’d be damned.
What would be left of me then?
Not much, but there wasn’t much to begin with.
Dr. Silver had taken it away.
My parents had destroyed everything else.
And my brother’s pain had made sure I’d never regain what I’d lost.
“If we’re in this, we’re in this together,” Jarrod said softly. The wind picked up and blew through my hair. “You know, if we do this, we might end up in prison for the rest of our lives? Or we could end up dead.”
“I know the risks. Believe me, I’ve been thinking about them a lot longer than you have.”
His lips flattened. “But you haven’t thought about whether you can trust me or not.”
My stomach flipped. His hand tightened enough to hurt.
If he wanted, he could throw me off here.
“Let go of me.”
“I need you to understand that from here on out, you’re mine. Your life is in my hands, and your body is for my eyes only. Do you understand?”
“No fucking anyone in the meantime. Got it.”
“No fucking. No kissing. No undressing. I own you, freak.”
“We said one night.”
“And I’ll honor that deal.” He leaned closer, lips near my throat. “But you’d better keep me interested. You’d better hope that one night is enough. Otherwise, I’ll let go.”
His hand disappeared from my arm.
For a second, I thought I might drop.
The world spun. My life was on the edge of a dime. One step and I was gone.
Without revenge.
Then his hand returned, harder than before. I gasped in pain as his fingers dug into my skin.
He stepped back and yanked me with him.
I stumbled and fell against his chest.
He pulled me tight and brushed the hair from my face.
His smile was horrible and vicious.
The grin of a killer.
“Can you do that, freak? Can you keep me interested long enough to get what you want?”
I nodded, staring into his eyes.
He scared the hell out of me, but another, stranger emotion drifted through my body.
It warred with the fear.
It fed on the terror.
Desire, pure and simple. Animal lust.
I wanted him to fuck me.
I wanted to see what this beast could do if unleashed.
One night might be the end of me.
And I was fully willing to find out.
But not yet.
First, I had to get what I wanted.
I shoved him away as hard as I could.
“This isn’t your game,” I said, trying to keep my tone acid and sharp. “I’ve spent years planning how this’ll go down. You think you’re in control, but you’re not. If we do this, we do it my way. We do it together.”
His eyebrows raised in delight. “You want to be there to pull the trigger, freak?”
“I want to be there to watch that bastard die.” I met his gaze, steady and certain, and held out my hand. “Eight thousand dollars and one night where I give you whatever you want. I’ll do anything you ask, let you fuck me however you please, suck your cock, let you come down my throat, I don’t care, so long as we do this. Are you in?”
Hunger blossomed in his face. He licked his perfect lips.
He shook my hand.
“I’m in.”
He held it there, staring at me. I wondered if I’d made a horrible mistake.
But no, no, I’d made that mistake already, a long time ago.
I’d made that mistake the day I walked into Dr. Silver’s office, and the day I’d told my parents what he’d done to me, and the day I’d been shocked when they hadn’t believed it, and the day my little brother had come and admitted that the same thing had happened to him—I’d made the mistake years ago.
This was retribution.
I’d do anything to make it happen.
And if I enjoyed the payment?
Then so be it.
He released me and turned away. “All right, freak. Enough for tonight. Go home and get some sleep.”
“When are we doing it?”
“We’ll talk again soon.” He strode toward the fence.
I hurried after him. He got on the bike and kicked it to life.
I climbed on back and held on for dear life as he flew back into the woods and left me alone in the lot to think about my future.
4
Cora
The next day, it was like nothing had happened.
Robyn picked me up in the morning. She drove us to campus every day since she had a car and I didn’t. My dad was at work and my mom sat in front of the TV bingeing one of the Housewives franchises. I wasn’t sure which.
I didn’t say goodbye as I left.
My relationship with my parents was strained at best. Ever since the day I’d told them what happened, and they’d tried to convince me that I was wrong, or a liar, or something even worse, a crazy person, I’d decided I didn’t want them in my life. I took what they offered—shelter and food, mostly—but I didn’t owe them a damn thing.
“How’s Sam been doing?” Robyn asked as she pulled into her assigned parking space. She knew the broad strokes about what had happened to us, but she didn’t know the depth of the rage that simmered in my heart.
“Good, I think. You know Sam. He’s always happy.” Which was true—my brother could make friends with anyone. He was smart, easygoing, handsome, and a talented soccer player, but all of that was a cover.
The pain was still there, undimi
nished. We never talked about it, but we both knew.
“High school. I almost miss it.” Robyn sighed as she killed the engine.
“Do you, though? I seem to recall endless days of worthless drudgery and stupid homework.”
“You’re so melodramatic. High school was easy mode. We had, like, no real responsibilities.”
“We have responsibilities now?”
“Okay, good point. Come on, let’s get to class.”
The day drifted along like usual, except for the knot in my chest. Jarrod had left things ambiguous back in the empty lot—don’t contact me, I’ll be in touch with you—and I didn’t know when we’d start our project. I was anxious, more than a little nervous, but above all, extremely excited.
I’d been thinking about this for a long, long time.
Not the sex part. Well, sex, yeah, I’d been thinking about sex. It wasn’t like I was celibate. I’d had some experience with past boyfriends, but we’d never taken it farther than some third-base heavy petting type stuff. That incredible, knee-shaking desire to get taken and fucked had never been there with those guys, not like it was with Jarrod.
I hadn’t approached him for that, obviously. But this virginity thing was confusing and complicated and made the whole enterprise that much more exciting.
Which definitely meant I was fucked up.
But I’d known that already.
Toward the end of the day, my phone buzzed. I was half-asleep in an Irish Literature course, and the professor was droning on about James Joyce. I checked my messages and had one text from a new number. I frowned at the screen and felt my throat nearly close.
Meet me after football.
That had to be Jarrod. I saved the number and wrote back.
Cora: Where?
Jarrod: Outside the stadium.
I slipped my phone away before the professor could give me crap for texting, but a nervous energy slipped through my system.
Was I really doing this?
It was true that I’d spent years picturing this moment. I’d studied Dr. Silver through the internet, the news, and even occasionally biked past his practice. I’d lingered outside a few times, taking pictures, and had followed him back to his house once. I knew the man, thought I knew his habits, and was committed to ending his life the way he’d ended mine.
