Ruthless: Black Mountain Academy

by Mila Crawford

  Kyler Sinclair wasn’t touching me, but I could feel him everywhere.

  “Be my friend, mouse.” His words weren’t an ask, as much as an order. A smart retort was on my lips, but before I could send it flying, I felt the pad of one of his fingers dragging along the outside edge of my thigh, following the curve through the denim, so whisper soft I almost thought I was making up the phantom touch.

  I gulped when his finger met with the skin under the edge of my sweater, pausing there to linger. His touch was cool against my heated flesh. I stifled a small groan, the urge to shift away overpowering.

  “Please.” His one-word plea sank my sarcastic ship.

  Just like that, I became Kyler Sinclair’s willing victim.

  18

  “Love, whether newly born or aroused from a deathlike slumber, must always create sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance, that it overflows upon the outward world.” ― Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

  Kyler

  “All due respect, but I’ve seen you with your other friends.” She said, her head still buried in a pillow, a grin twitching at my face.

  “I’m a good guy, most of the time.”

  She flung her head around, cheeks rosy with the lack of oxygen and her anger. “Bullshit.”

  I wanted to kiss her so badly at that moment, her hair in a wild mess and just waiting for my hands in it. She was so soft, pretty, and perfect.

  “You look pretty when you’re mad, little mouse.” I leaned in close, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

  Her eyebrows rose before she pulled away. “See! Right there, you just can’t help but be mean and hateful.”

  “Mean and hateful?” I laughed again, pushing myself up beside her on the bed, her arms cupping her pillow, my back pressed at the headboard. “There’s not a mean or hateful bone in my body, mice are small and cute and harmless.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And that’s a compliment?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me what you think about it, I think it fits.”

  She huffed, rolling on her side and scooting up the bed to match me with her back at the headboard. She cast a glance over my shoulder, eyes finding mine before she deadpanned, “I think you need some Friendship 101 classes.”

  My grin widened, just the fact that she was talking to me again felt really damn good.

  “I’m good at pushing the right people away when I need to, it’s a gift.”

  “A curse maybe. You push everyone away, Kyler.” Her voice softened on my name and landed like cement in my stomach. There was something that captivated me, and I wasn’t even sure what it was. Only that it had everything to do with her and I couldn’t get enough.

  “Well, it didn’t feel like that when we listened to music.”

  “You do remember how that ended, right? With me bailing like the house was on fire? Not exactly friendly…”

  An evil grin tugged at my lips, but I let it go.

  “Real friends, I dunno, open up to each other.” She sighed, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

  I covered her palm with mine, stopping her nervous movements. “See? I told you, you had something to say to me.”

  “Me? No.” She shook her head. “Stop twisting me up, you’re the one that followed me in here.”

  I grinned and nodded, secretly loving the way she saw through my word games. I’d never met anyone that could match me with words, but she did.

  “Well.” I shrugged, biting down on my silver hoop, the satisfying sound of the metal against my teeth sending a wave of comfort through me.

  Her eyes watched me slowly, trailing from my eyes to the metal in my lower lip before dropping down to my hand covering hers. “Why? What do they mean?”

  “That?” I breathed, still stuck on her gaze. “My tattoos?”

  She nodded, blinking slowly. “Pain and Hate on your knuckles, why?”

  I glanced to the ink she referred to. The faded black ink still looked razor-edged against my scarred hands. She draped one finger along the worn flesh, eyebrows skittering high when she felt the razed flesh of my skin. “You have so many scars.”

  “Hence the tattoos.” I said woodenly.

  “The tattoos are camouflage?” She cradled my hand in both of her palms.

  “Not all of them.”

  She glanced up, frowning. “You’re being so forthcoming.”

  “Man, spending time with the Sinclairs has really rubbed off on you.” I struggled not to wince when she flipped my hand, reading the underside of my wrist like braille with the pads of her thumbs.

  “Kyler…” she didn’t need to say more, all the emotion softening her eyes told me all I needed to know. I pulled my hand away, shoving both in the pockets of my hoodie. “You have so many scars…”

  I nodded. “Life.”

  “You look like you’ve lived a hundred by the marks on those hands.” She reached for my wrist, pulling one out from the pocket. She held the hand that said pain in her hand. “And your wrist...is that all from fighting?”

  I shook my head, unable to form words. The truth was, I’d never let anyone this close, close enough to feel all my broken pieces. She was breaking down barriers I’d erected years ago and she didn’t even know it.

  “Something like that.”

  “So when did you get the hate and pain tattoos?” She was probing deeper into my past and all I could think to do was run but I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that to her, not again.

  “After I left boarding school. I was kicked out right before I turned seventeen for threatening a teacher.” I shrugged, numb to the memory of it now. “I rented a car, stopped only at a tattoo parlor to commemorate the day, and then showed up on Monica and Edward’s doorstep with a bottle of vodka and a smile. To say they weren’t happy is an understatement. They tried to send me to therapy again after that, but I wasn’t having it. I’d done enough talking in my life and it hadn’t gotten me anywhere. No one really listens, anyway.” I didn’t know why I was talking so damn much. I never did, but sitting here with Madison looking at me so sweetly I wanted to bare my soul to her. “Monica says I’m lucky Black Mountain Academy took me back--it feels like a curse, though. I begged her to let me get my GED so I could be done with the bullshit system altogether, but she begged them to take me back. The only condition was that I repeat all of my senior year, even though I’d finished three-quarters of it in boarding school. I told her they just wanted to charge her full-price tuition, but the truth is, my family gives enough to that school, they didn’t have the balls to tell Monica no. So I’m making sure my last year is hell on them.”

  “Hm.” She paused the figure-eight she’d been trailing around my scarred and inked knuckles. “Sounds highly productive.”

  “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, little mouse.”

  She didn’t reply, and I just kept letting her soft touch melt my tense nerves. It was weird, the effect she had on me. I didn’t understand it, and I guess it was only now that I was open to it. After she’d robbed me of her the last few months I’d become like a starving wild animal, obsessed with getting her back no matter the cost.

  I caught the book on her nightstand. “Anne Rice, huh? Didn’t peg you for a vampire girl.”

  I couldn’t see her, but I could feel her eyes traveling my face. “I’m a sucker for an anti-hero.”

  I flipped the pages, her words spinning through my mind on repeat. Had I just become her pet project? Was I the scarred, wild animal she thought she could rehab back to life? Suddenly, all the opening up we’d just done felt like an oppressive wave barreling down on my chest.

  “I--I forgot tonight was my night to walk the dogs at the animal shelter--I should probably head over there--those dogs are vicious if they don’t get their nightly walk.”

  “Since when did you start volunteering at the animal shelter?”

  “Also since the day I got back from boarding school. Every Tuesday and Thursday for the last two years. I’ve been a veg
an since that day too. The day I realized I liked animals more than humans, I couldn’t keep eating them.”

  “Two years, huh?” Her eyebrows rose. “Can I come? I’d love to help you dog walk.”

  “It’s not really...I don’t think they’d just appreciate it if I brought someone new…”

  “The dogs? Or the humans?” She laughed.

  “Either?” I answered seriously.

  “I’m pretty much a dog whisperer, and most humans like me too. I mean, if they put up with you…”

  I shook my head when the little mouse followed me out of the room. My grand plan to escape her prying little questions was an epic fucking fail.

  “How far is the shelter?”

  “A ten-minute walk,” I uttered, wondering what in the hell had gotten into me earlier when I’d told her I wanted to be friends after all. I wasn’t adapted to things like friends and common niceties.

  “Perfect, you can tell me about the rest of your tattoos.”

  I suppressed another groan. “Is oversharing ever, like, a thing in friendships?”

  She only laughed as we set off along the edge of the cobbled driveway. “Feeling exposed, Sinclair?”

  “No. I’ve just never known anyone to give so many fucks about another person.” My words hung heavy, the truth of them registering fully.

  “Well, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what dinners were like in your house, but every night my parents lingered around the table, talking about their day and their friends and their dreams and...I dunno, just, life.”

  “I’m really not good with that stuff,” I breathed.

  “I noticed.” She paused. “But you’re pretty good with animals.”

  We reached the fence that normally enclosed the dogs all day. “They’re simpler than people.”

  We stepped in, and I fished a keycard from my wallet to open the back door of the facility. The dogs roared to life, tails wild as they jumped up and down in greeting.

  “Ever wonder what they think about you?” she breathed, taking in all the wagging canine tails.

  “Doesn’t matter, does it? It’s humans that make life complicated--the needs, the greed, and the selfish motives. Humans poison everything, even the air we breathe and the food we eat, just to make a profit. These guys,” I let the first two dogs out of their kennels, “only need food, water, a walk, and some love to live. It’s simple, and I appreciate simple.”

  “Coming from the most complicated man I’ve ever met,” she whispered at my side as I stood, an errant smile darting across my face.

  “Dark and complicated might look good on you if you give it a try, little mouse.”

  19

  “It made her think that it was curious how much nicer a person looked when he smiled. She had not thought of it before.” ― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

  Madison

  Watching Kyler at the animal shelter was like seeing a completely new person. He actually smiled as a small golden retriever licked him in the face, trying to climb him like a monkey.

  “He’s amazing with them,” a middle-aged woman, with salt and pepper hair and ruby red cheeks said, beaming at Kyler with the puppy. “He’s the only person that can make the abused ones calm down. They usually hide or growl at people, but not with Kyler. He’s the kindest, gentlest person I have ever met in my entire life.”

  I slowly turned to the sweet looking woman, not really sure if she was talking about the same Kyler I knew. The boy I knew was angry and mean. He was brash and insensitive. Kyler Sinclair was a bully in every sense of the word. But as I watched him smiling at the puppy giving him a bath with his tongue, I couldn’t help thinking that from time to time I saw the guy the puppy saw. The truth was, I knew he was capable of more. I saw moments of kindness and thoughtfulness. I knew he loved his sister, the way he reacted in the hospital told me that. He was genuinely worried; a completely heartless person wouldn’t have done that. Kyler rubbed the back of the puppy’s ears and walked over to me, a smile still plastered on his face. I couldn’t help thinking how beautiful he was when he wasn’t scowling. He was incredibly sexy when he was angry and being mean, but right now he looked almost ethereal.

  “Are you going to help, or are you going to just stand there?” he asked, holding out his hand to me. I stared at his long fingers, marred by scars and covered by tattoos. I was worried that if I took it, my skin might ignite by the heat of his skin, but a large part of me wanted to feel his touch on mine in any way I could. Slowly, I placed my hand in his and he closed his fingers on mine. I never understood when my father talked about how my mom was everything until that moment when Kyler Sinclair became a part of me irrevocably.

  “This is a different side of you,” I said, as he dragged me towards one of the carts with a frail, thin brown dog huddled at the corner. The poor thing had his head barred and was desperate to move further away from any living thing. His body was shaking and, looking at him, I could tell that his frailness wasn’t due to his breed but to neglect. Kyler opened the door. The sight of the poor puppy's face made my breath hitch and I stumbled back, catching my footing before I fell. “What happened to him?” I asked, creeping slowly towards the dog. His poor face was cut up in small slashes and his ear looked like it was half ripped off. I felt the bile rise from my throat and the tears start to flood my eyes. It physically hurt looking at the poor creature and the harm that had come to him, but I didn’t dare look away.

  Kyler slowly approached the poor thing, crouching on the floor, moving ever so slowly.

  “Hey there, buddy,” he cooed, “I promise, no one is going to ever hurt you again. I am Kyler,” he introduced himself, as if the puppy could totally understand him. “I know it’s not fun when people who are supposed to love and protect you do nothing but hurt you.”

  His words made me stop. I didn’t look at the puppy anymore but my eyes turned onto Kyler. I watched him, his sleeves rolled up, swirling image after image, covering every inch of skin on his arms.

  I know it’s not fun when people who are supposed to love and protect you do nothing but hurt you.

  I had no idea why those words lingered in my mind, growing larger and forcing all other thoughts out. Everything I had seen about Kyler’s parents were that of loving parents. Sure, they were nothing like my own, but they weren’t bad people, they just put a value on things that weren’t that important in the grand scheme of things. But the way Kyler talked, the sound of his voice all strained and choked up with emotion, made me think there was something else there. And those scars, those tiny scars that were hidden if you looked too closely, but I will never forget how that raised skin felt under my fingertips. Those scars were inflicted by a knife or another sharp object. Once again, I felt liquid rise in my throat, but unlike that last time I couldn't hold back as I vomited right there for Kyler and anyone else to see.

  I felt the embarrassment creep up my skin as I stared at the pile of liquid by my feet. It had been a long time since I had vomited. The last time was when I was told that my father had died. It wasn’t something I did often and certainly not something I enjoyed. My head shot up and I stared at Kyler, who was looking at me with a strange look plastered on his face, one could almost say it was akin to pity or maybe worry.

  “You ok, mouse?” he asked, abandoning the dog and rising to come to me. I shot my hand out, trying to gesture for him to stop.

  “The dog, Kyler, the dog,” I said, pointing at the crate with the helpless creature inside. “Make sure the dog is ok. I’m fine.”

  I shot over to where the paper towels were, taking a handful and some disinfectant and started wiping away the bile splattered on the floor. The whole time my mind lingering on the beautiful boy and the scars scattered on his skin.

  20

  “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

  Kyler

  I wanted to run to Maddy. I had this profound need to hold her and make sure she was
ok. But she stood there, stoic, halting my movement. All I could do now was watch her from the corner of my eye as she used the stark white paper towels, wiping away the barf on the cold brown tile floor. The puppy whimpered softly, the sound of a small creature that wasn’t sure who to trust or run to. I wanted to crush the skull of the fucker who did this to him.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” I said, tearing my eyes away from Maddy and concentrating fully on the small dog. That was what I was here for, the helpless, and as much as Maddy had a moment of weakness, helpless she was not.

  The small dog looked up at me, his eyes haunted and worried, his body constantly shaking. I understood these dogs the most. The hurt ones, the damaged ones, the ones that had nothing and no one in their life. I wanted them to know they had me. He put his small ears down, and I swore under my breath when I saw it. It looked like it had been ripped off unevenly.

  “What happened to him?” I asked Linda, the middle age woman that had been working at the shelter for as long as I had been coming here. She was the first adult I had trusted in a very long time. A kind woman, with a soft voice and flushed cheeks.

  “His owner was arrested for dog fighting. The bastard had been doing it for years. There were a few others there, but they were rabid and huge. This little one was so scared that when they went to catch him he just whimpered and relented. It’s almost as if he has given up, Kyler. Like all he wants now is to die. I knew if anyone could help him, it was you.”

  “Hey, buddy.” I went to pull out a treat from my back pocket and the dog ran back right into his cart, completely frightened. When he saw what I was holding, he moved his head slowly, cocking it to the side as if asking me some secret question. “It’s ok, buddy. This is all for you,” I said, extending my hand. Like a miracle, the small dog padded over to me, sniffing my hand before he lapped at the treat and started eating it, never taking his eyes off of me.