Текст книги "Dirty English"

Автор книги: Ilsa Madden-Mills

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

A LITTLE AFTER midnight, my dad dropped me off at my flat. We said goodbye, and maybe I sensed something new between us. Respect? I didn’t know, but we had spent the last few hours at a steak place, working through the details about a huge-ass loan I was taking from him. I’d had to swallow some of my pride to ask, but in the end it was worth a future with Elizabeth. Maybe she was okay with my illegal fighting, but I didn’t want to put any kind of stress on our relationship. Reality had hit me like a ton of bricks last night as I’d held her in my arms. Yeti wouldn’t be my last illegal fight, and there’d never be enough money for the gym. Of course, I’d given him a choice: either he gave me a loan or I continued to fight. He’d been furious at first, especially since he hadn’t known about the fighting, but in the end, he’d agreed to a loan.

I climbed the steps to the stairs and popped open my phone to search for a text from Elizabeth. She’d sent me a few, the last one around eleven.

Should I let her sleep and talk to her tomorrow?

I stopped in front of her door and knocked but didn’t get an answer.

I knocked again. Her car was there.

Did she not want to talk to me?

Was she tired from last night?

I stalked back to my place and unlocked the door. Just as I was opening the door to go inside, something pricked at me. I stepped back onto the breezeway, a sense of urgency gnawing at me.

I scanned the carpark. All looked well.

But then…

My eyes went to Minnie’s Diner across the street. Parked in the back was a sports car, its lines sleek and powerful even in the dark. Porsche?

What the fuck?

BANG!

My shoulder crashed into the door and the cheap wood cracked. I rammed my hand inside and turned the knob. I don’t know why I didn’t just run back into my place and cross over the balcony¸ but this seemed faster.

A light burned from underneath her bedroom door and I headed that way. It was locked too. Fuck!

I kicked in the door and slipped inside, ready to kill whoever was here.

But what I saw made me pause, every nightmare ever imagined playing out in front of me.

Colby stood behind a bound and gagged Elizabeth on her knees, a knife at her throat.

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned, pushing the knife in far enough that blood bloomed on her neck and dripped down.

I jerked to a halt and held my hands up. “It’s cool. Just don’t hurt her, and all of this will work out.”

He inhaled sharply, his cold eyes leveled at me. “Oh? Like you hurt me?” He tightened his grip around her shoulders, and I watched as her eyes flared wide.

I wanted to rip his throat out with my bare hands. My chest heaved and it sounded loud in the quiet room as we faced off.

“I don’t see a way out of this that works for you,” I said softly, backing away from him while angling myself toward her dresser.

He grunted. “I do. You think you can touch me? Don’t you know who I am?”

I nodded. Oh, I knew exactly who he was. He’d hurt my Elizabeth.

I looked at her. “It’s going to be okay, love. I got this, okay. I will never let anything bad happen to you, got it?”

She nodded.

“Shut up! Stop talking!” he yelled at me, his knuckles white, still holding the knife against her throat as he pulled her up and forced her to walk to the bathroom. He shoved her inside and she fell to the floor. “Get in there until I figure out what to do with both of you.” He slammed the door and paced around me, his face contorted in a snarl. He eyed me warily, taking in my body.

I made myself look small, huddling in the corner. Waiting. He was bound to make a move with the knife, and I had to be ready.

The sound of sirens pierced the silence.

Feral eyes roamed around the room as if looking for the origin of the sound and then focused on me. “You called the cops.” He tightened his grip on the knife.

I shook my head. “It’s a college town. Cops are out everywhere. You can still leave and nothing bad will have happened. I don’t want to hurt you.”

God, I wanted to kill him.

I was going to kill him.

The sirens got louder and louder, and he paused, his head cocked toward the balcony. The flash of blue lights came in through the window, and he looked back at me, his eyes bulging with rage.

I lunged for him, avoiding the hand with the knife.

We fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs and the knife skittered across the floor.

Fists flew, mostly mine, but some of his hits connected with my bruises and I flinched, ripples of pain in my body.

I tore into him with palm strikes and punches.

He might be a crazed fighter hoped up on adrenaline, but I was the goddamfucking talent.

And I was going to kill him.

My strikes zeroed in on his temple. A palm strike to the face, one to the ribs, and another to the liver.

His head dangled, wobbling like a broken doll’s. His eyes shut.

He was out.

I exhaled, the sound of Elizabeth beating on the bathroom door permeating my senses.

I wiped my face, feeling the trickle of blood. I didn’t want to scare her more than she already had been. I stood and looked around for something to tie up Colby with before I’d let Elizabeth out here.

A red-hot pain sliced into my leg. Colby had come to—had he ever been out?—and had grabbed the knife and plunged it into my thigh.

I roared, the rage in me skyrocketing. The room spiraled as I spun around and launched myself on top of Colby. I slammed a fist into his face. Another to his groin.

Oh yeah, I liked the sound he made when that connected.

The bathroom door collapsed and Elizabeth’s body lay on top of it, her eyes frantic as she took me in. I laughed rather oddly. I guess she’d beat it down to get to me.

Her, her. That was all that mattered. Shit, I didn’t want her to be scared.

Nothing would ever happen to her. I loved her. I wanted to be with her forever. I wanted to make babies with her. I wanted to wrap her up in a cocoon of love…

And just then, things got hazy. I felt weak. My blood was everywhere, pooling on her tile.

Shit. Wait. Got to save her.

Fading.

Everything went black.

I TOUCHED HIS face. Cool. He was pale, too.

I worried my bottom lip with my teeth and pulled up the hospital sheet to tuck it around him more securely.

He’d almost died in front of me. Tears pricked at my eyelids, but I beat them back when I saw his hand twitch. Time to be strong.

His eyes fluttered.

Long black lashes—God, how had I never noticed how beautiful every single hair on him was?—lifted and he gazed up at me, at first disoriented, but then a slow dawning in his eyes.

“I’m alive?” His voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel.

“Halleluiah! He speaks,” Dax shouted out with whoop from a green recliner where he’d been sleeping for the past few hours.

A pretty nurse popped her head in and looked at Declan. Smiled. “You’re awake. Great. I’ll let the doctor know.”

“She can check out the Sex Lord anytime,” Dax snarked.

He then leaned over and inspected Declan. “You’ll live, I guess. Just my luck.”

“Arsehole,” Declan muttered at him. “Always thinking about yourself.”

I smiled. If he had died—God, I would have wanted to go with him.

He focused back on me. “What happened? I blacked out …” I watched his face as he pieced it all together.

I nodded gently. “You’ve been here for about twelve hours. The police arrived just after you went down. They arrested Colby and called an ambulance for you.” I licked dry lips. “He—he nicked your femoral artery. If it hadn’t been for the quick-thinking policeman who tied off your thigh, you would have bled to death.” I took a deep breath. “You spent four hours in emergency surgery to repair the vessel—a kind of graft. You probably won’t be able to walk without crutches for a few weeks.”

“I’ll live then.” His eyes devoured me, raking over my face, my lips. “How are you? Did he hurt you?”

I shook my head. “Just what you saw. I told the police what happened.”

“Everything?”

I took his hand and squeezed. “Yes. They’ve arrested him, but his dad has already made a statement on television. He said he knows Colby’s innocent, so we may have a bumpy road ahead of us.”

“Like hell we will.” Winston Blay walked in the room, his suit wrinkled from being up all night with Dax and me. We’d spent the last few hours talking a lot, and I’d filled him in on everything about Colby and what had happened to me. He’d been surprisingly understanding, and we’d formed a bond while waiting for Declan to pull through surgery. He’d told me how he was glad Declan had come to him for money instead of continuing the illegal fights. In the end, I think all he wanted was for Declan to find some happiness. “He may be a Senator, but I’m an ambassador, and no jerk-off southern good ole boy is going to try to kill my son and think he’s going to get away with it.”

Dax did a fist pump. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

I leaned down to Declan. “Your dad has been on the phone all morning, lining up lawyers and talking to bigwigs. He’s been good to me, too. He found my mom and Karl in Petal and they’re at their local police station now, giving a statement about how they tried to blackmail the Scotts’.”

That seemed to satisfy Declan. He gazed at me. “God, I was so afraid I was going to lose you forever. I—I don’t think I would have survived that.”

I kissed him, not caring that people were watching, but Mr. Blay and Dax discreetly left the room. I pulled back and rested my face against his shoulder. “No, I was afraid you were dead. I—I can’t even think about it.”

Declan patted the covers. “Get in the bed with me.”

I eyed him warily. “You’ve got too many wires hooked up to you to get freaky.”

“I don’t want to shag you. I want to love you.” He sat up in bed and scooted over. There was barely room for me, he was so big, but he tugged me down until I was lying across him, his hard body warm against mine. He pushed a hand through my hair to cup my head. “When I get out of this hospital bed, I am taking you away from this town and we are going to be alone, without the gym or uni or family or anything. I have some things to show you.”

“Good things?” I teased.

“I want to take you to London and show you where I grew up. I want to visit my mum’s grave with you and tell her how I found the perfectly broken girl to fall in love with. I want to watch you eat a proper shepherd’s pie—maybe show you how to make it.”

“I don’t cook. All I can make is ramen noodles.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll eat ramen.”

Poor guy.

I laughed. Giddy. “You really do love me,” I teased. “I’m yours, Declan, and I will do my best to make you happy and never live with any stupid regrets. I promise you I will always focus on the future.” I pressed my lips to his lightly. “I’m not going to judge myself on the past. I don’t live there anymore.”

He studied me as I talked, and when I stopped, his mouth captured mine, his tongue sweeping out and plunging deep. I sank into him, immersing myself in his scent, his warmth, his bulk. He kissed me soft and sweet, then hard and dark, just like I liked it.

I came up for air. “It’s you, always you, my Mr. Darcy.”

“I love you too, Elizabeth Bennett.”

We lay together cuddled up in a tangle of limbs as the sun peeked over the horizon. Two years ago, I’d watched another sunrise and had vowed to never love again, but this, this was different.

This was the beginning of my life.

I’d sensed it from the moment I saw him at that frat party, that movie-worthy experience we sometimes get when we sense a shift in the atmosphere as if something extraordinary is about to happen. It had. I’d found him even with my rules dragging me down. And we’d have troubles like all young people do. Love is never perfect, in fact, it’s the exact opposite of perfect, but that’s okay, because it gives you room to grow and explore. There’d be times when we’d bicker and argue, but we’d have great make-up sex too. And no matter what came our way, I was in this for real. If he wanted to use his fists, I’d stand in his corner and kiss him before he put his gloves on.

He’d do the same for me.

“What are you thinking?” he asked a while later as we snuggled.

I turned my head on the pillow to face him. Some of his color had come back and it made me glad. “My mind is racing, thinking about possibilities. Our future. What I can do with my jewelry. What you can do with your gym. I—I just haven’t been this happy or excited about life in a long time. And you’re in the hospital, which makes it even more weird.” I plucked at the covers. “I feel like I’ve been going through these small yet monumental changes over the past few weeks, and I owe it all to you. Loving you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay.

He studied me for a while, his gaze full of complete understanding. “You and me, we got this. I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you. I’m going to give you whatever you want, Unicorn Girl. I’m going to kiss you every single night. I’m going to fuck you and then make love to you. I’m going to give you kids. A home. Happiness. All of my heart.”

Joy filled my soul. “Will you read Jane Austen to me naked?”

He barked out a weak laugh. “I’ll do one better. I’ll make love to you and quote the whole bloody book at the same time.”

“Mm, I could get used to that.”

“Just making sure you get what you want, love.”

We laughed and held each other close as sun rose higher in the sky.

One year later

I SETTLED IN on the bench and gazed at the garden surrounding one of the water fountains in Hyde Park. I looked around for Declan, but he’d left to grab us water from one of the vendors near the entrance.

It was a chilly yet beautiful October morning and we were in London for the week to catch up with old school chums and family members of his mom’s.

I sighed. It had been a wonderful year considering the hell we’d been through.

I was in my last year of school, but I’d given up my job at the bookstore to work on my jewelry. Meyers had offered me another contracting design job, and when I wasn’t studying, I was working on new creations.

Blake and Shelley were together. Most of the time. They fought a lot, and I didn’t know if it was going to work out, but I had my fingers crossed.

Dax was his usual self, partying at the frat house and sleeping around. I knew the real man though. Underneath that shiny veneer was a guy looking for love.

My mom had left Karl, and the last time I’d seen her, she’d already found a new guy—a drummer she’d met at a concert.

Declan’s father had given him and Dax a graduation gift of several hundred thousand dollars, therefore canceling the loan. Mr. Blay swore it had always been his intention to give each of his children a college graduation present, and the boys didn’t argue. Mr. Blay and Declan had formed a kind of truce, and while it wasn’t a total reconciliation, it was progress. Dinners at the Blay mansion were still a bit testy and odd, but I was content. Another mountain for us to climb, and we were armed and ready.

It was the best family I’d ever had.

As far as Colby went, he was in jail awaiting trial for first-degree attempted murder for me as well as a count of second-degree attempted murder for Declan. With the duct tape and penknife, it was going to be extremely difficult to prove his innocence. Senator Scott’s personal assistant had also come forward, revealing the blackmail scheme hatched by Karl and Mom, giving Colby plenty of motivation. His sentencing could be up to life in prison without parole. He and his father had done their best to get him out on bail, but because he was a flight risk, it had never come to fruition.

He’d been charged with rape as well, which has no statute of limitations in North Carolina, but the burden of truth rested with me, and my lawyers would have a difficult time proving it. There were pictures of me drunk at prom and the chaperones had tossed us out for being intoxicated. But I’d decided to tell my whole story in court, and Shelley and Blake would also testify. We didn’t know if it would be enough to convict him, but I was in it for the long haul. I was worth it. Declan had told me that a long time ago outside the truck stop, and now I believed it.

Declan came back from the refreshment stand with two bottles of water, his long legs crossing the park as a group of women across the fountain ogled him with hungry eyes—but he ignored them, his gaze locked on mine.

The gym had opened officially in February, and we’d had a huge grand opening party this past May. We were living in an apartment he’d had renovated in the back, and it was small, but for now, it was just us and it was enough.

He smiled at me as he sat down next to me and took my hand to hold it. We’d been coming here each afternoon to take in the pretty flowers and people watch.

Just then, a fluttering flashed across the bench and landed next to us. A dragonfly.

I let out a small gasp and went to nudge Declan, but he’d already seen it.

“She knows I found you,” he murmured and wrapped me up in a hug. We watched as the blue insect hovered around us, flitting from one side of us to the other for the longest time, until finally, she flew away …

The End

Dear reader, if you enjoy passion and angst, take a peek at the first five chapters of my New York Times Best-Selling book Very Bad Things (Amazon Top 5 Book and #1 in New Adult and College Age Romance).

Leaving behind her mansion and Jimmy Choos, Nora Blakely becomes a girl hell-bent on pushing the limits with alcohol, drugs, and meaningless sex. Then she meets her soulmate, but he doesn’t want her.

Sexy gym owner Leo Tate has one rule: never fall in love…until Nora shows up with her list of bad things. He resists the pull of their sizzling connection, hung up on their age difference.

Welcome to Briarcrest Academy, where the best things in life are VERY BAD THINGS.

“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are they crazy?”

–Albert Einstein

WEISSNICHTWO.

Yeah, that’s not an easy word to say. Yet these often mispronounced staccato syllables have been ticking in my brain like the click of my piano teacher’s metronome for the past fifteen minutes . . . weiss-nicht-wo, weiss-nicht-wo, weiss-nicht-wo. I tapped my fingers to the beat.

This obscure word was coined by Thomas Carlyle in his satirical work Sartor Resartus, so it’s not surprising the organizers selected it for the Belltone National Spelling Bee. Even the best speller might be thrown off by it, maybe because the /w/ is pronounced as a Germanic /v/ or maybe they make the rookie mistake of forgetting to capitalize the beginning.

But four years ago, I’d made no mistake at that renowned spelling bee. I’d been perfect, since screwing up was not allowed in my family. In my last year to compete and at the age of fourteen, I’d nailed Weissnichtwo, beating out the pimply, homeschooled kid from Rhode Island in round six.

My IQ tested at 162 and most considered that genius level. Yet, I still had to work my ass off for the spelling bee, studying the two-hundred-page word list and thirty thousand flash cards for two hours a day, four days a week. For an entire year. In those days, I was quick to remind people that Einstein was a proven horrible speller.

My mother snapped her fingers in my face. “Nora Grace, please stop slumping and sit up. Good posture improves your overall attractiveness. You know this.”

I straightened my back.

“Mr. Cairn’s about to call you to the podium,” she said. “Don’t let me down.”

I nodded.

She twisted her lips as she scanned over my new dress and brown sandals. “That yellow dress was a very bad idea. It completely washes you out, and I’m surprised my assistant picked it out. She usually has better taste. Please don’t wear that—” she gestured at my outfit, “terrible ensemble again.” She sighed. “At least you didn’t wear those disgusting cowboy boots.”

I gripped the edges of my chair, refusing to acknowledge her last remark. Did she think I was stupid? I’d known to not wear my boots in front of her, not when I’d be wearing her handprint on my cheek later for the infraction. I pushed her from my mind and stared down at my note cards, concentrating on remembering everything my speech coach had taught me.

She continued her lecture as she focused her attention back on the headmaster of Briarcrest Academy. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you shop for an appropriate outfit. Now that Geoffrey has resigned, the station is in chaos, so I’ll be working more hours and staying at the apartment in the city. It can’t be helped,” she said, shrugging her impeccably suited shoulders. “I do worry about you though. Princeton is only a few months away, and you’ll never make it past freshman year if you don’t stop daydreaming. We expect big things from you, Nora.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She checked me out again, this time directing her critical gaze to my waistline. “Mona mentioned you haven’t been weighing yourself each day, and I’m concerned. You must never forget how fat you were.”

I peered down at my size five dress and sucked in. Mona, our housekeeper, reported everything I did. She probably kept a log that told Mother when I peed.

“Oh, and I do have some exciting news I’ve been meaning to tell you. Finn’s moving back to the house after Christmas,” she said with a smile. “Houston isn’t working out for him like he thought, so he’s going to work downtown with your father’s law firm.”

I swallowed down bile at what she’d said. Everything was always about Finn, my half-brother. Why didn’t she give a shit about me?

I glanced around her to peek at my dad, but he wasn’t even listening to Mr. Cairn or to us. He had his phone out, texting. He didn’t want to be here.

From the stage, Mr. Cairn was finishing up his spiel, “. . . to Briarcrest Academy’s Senior Registration and Open House Night. This fall marks our hundredth-year anniversary, and we look forward to celebrating this event all year. And now, to welcome our incoming seniors, last year’s junior class president Nora Blakely will be speaking to you. An asset to our Academy, she was not only the Belltone National Spelling Bee Champion four years ago, but she’s currently the editor of the yearbook, the co-captain of the debate team, and an early recipient of the esteemed James D. Gobble Scholarship to attend the University of Texas. She’s an exemplary role model for all of us here tonight.” Mr. Cairn smiled benignly down at us in the front row. “Without further ado, please give a hand for Miss Nora Blakely.”

Polite clapping ensued.

“Go get ’em, sis,” Finn said to me as I rose to walk up the wooden steps to the stage. Shocked to hear his voice, I turned to see that he’d obviously slipped in late and had been sitting right behind me the entire time. I felt myself draw up inside. He wasn’t supposed to be here, not when it was a week day and he lived four hours away. Deep in my gut, I realized Mother had told him to come. And he always did what she said. So did I.

As I looked at him, the shuffling sounds of people sitting in hard chairs swelled in my head and then shrank in the oddest way. Vertigo hit me, making the gymnasium spin around wildly, like I was on a merry-go-round. Freaked out, I gained control by fisting the sides of my dress and biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted the coppery tang of blood.

Seeing him had made me crack even more.

I shuddered in revulsion, taking in his gaunt face and red-rimmed eyes with sagging skin underneath. Cocaine. Someday, it would take away his handsome visage completely and leave it in ruins. His clothes screamed money though, from the tailored suit to his Louis Vuitton watch. Just like me, he was pretty on the outside.

His hands twitched nervously, calling attention to the long, jagged scar on top of his right one. That nasty gash had taken eighty-five stitches at the emergency room, and if he rolled his sleeves up, it would stretch all the way up to his elbow. As I stared, he flushed red and dropped his head to stare at his shoes, like the answer to all life’s questions were lying on the dirty gym floor. They weren’t.

I suddenly wished I was high. At least I wouldn’t remember what I’d done.

I turned my back to him and walked away. He was nothing to me.

Making my way up the steps, I smoothed down my dress and tried to breathe evenly, so I could give my well-prepared speech—all about how freaking wonderful it is to be a student at BA, how super-terrific it is if you study hard and make good grades, and how awesomely fantastic it is to be rich and smart in a crappy little world. Right.

I snorted. If these people only knew the dirty truth about me. How weak I was. How I was dying a little bit every day in small doses. Would they look at me differently? Treat me like a pariah? Yes, my internal voice whispered.

Shake it off and breathe, I ordered myself. I sucked in a long breath through my nose and exhaled through my mouth as I moved forward to Mr. Cairn, whom I’d privately nicknamed Mole, albeit a rather nice mole. With his gray hair and squinty eyes, he looked deceptively unassuming, but he also had keen instincts and even keener intelligence. Nothing much got past Mole. Even now, his beady gaze probed my expression, and I think maybe he could see my cracks. Automatically, my body went into beauty pageant mode, and I sashayed toward him robotically, the new sandals Mother hated clacking against the stage.

It was time for the dog and pony show.

Looking at me warily, Mr. Cairn politely moved aside and took a nearby seat on the stage, along with our second headmaster and various esteemed, contributing alumni who helped make BA one of the top private schools in Texas. I nodded, giving them my practiced fake smile and turned to face the audience. With the glare of the bright spotlight in my face, it was hard to see much past the first row, but I saw my parents and my best friend Mila, along with her parents.

I also made out Drew Mansfield, my once secret crush since seventh grade—may he rot in hell for screwing me and then dumping me last year. He’d shattered my heart, and I dreaded seeing him and his crooked smile at school, day in and day out. In the cafeteria. In class. At debate.

At least Finn was gone, his seat now unsurprisingly empty. It had always been hard for him to face me in the light of day. The night is where he reigned.

The rest of the audience sat in darkness. Waiting.

Watching the perfect girl.

I’ve stood in front of the podium too long because I can see Mother glaring at me, covertly motioning with her hands for me to start. Dad’s lips have thinned, and I can see the impatience settling on his face. He probably had an important meeting at the courthouse to get to. Was that my future? To follow in his footsteps, blindly doing whatever society expected? Or would I turn out like Mother? Clawing my way to the top of the network ladder, reaching for stardom on national television.

Is that what it took to be happy?

The audience began murmuring, becoming antsy. After all, they expected me to deliver a rousing speech about the merits of BA, proving to them that the forty-two thousand dollars a year they paid was worth it. I couldn’t disappoint them, yet my mind went blank as I stared into that dark abyss, that giant hole of emptiness. Maybe I could have stood there all day, refusing to face my future, but it wasn’t permitted.

I commanded myself to smile again and turn on the charm, but my body rebelled. Shit. That had never happened before. And stage fright wasn’t a possibility, not when I’d been in front of people and on display my entire life, just like Mother’s precious china. No, my body’s unwillingness to perform was entirely new. On edge, I tried again, digging deep inside the core of me, searching for the Nora they expected to see, for the girl people claimed was brilliant. Nothing. I licked my sudden dry lips, shocked by my body’s refusal to obey. Where was the girl who could win an Academy Award for her depiction of a well-adjusted person?

I couldn’t let them see the real me, the one that was obscene and gross. They’d hate me; they’d be disgusted by me. As they say here in Texas, they’d ride me out of town on a rail.

Panicked, I fiddled with my note cards, shuffling them around on the podium. I had to give this speech flawlessly, and if it wasn’t dazzling and worthy of the Blakely name, Mother would be mortified. She would punish me.

I tried to smile for the third time but got nothing. Just nothing. Not even a facial tic. I began to wonder if I could move at all. I felt frozen in place, like someone had zapped me with a ray gun.

Is this where it would all end? Was I going to break down and let this audience see my shame? God, please no. I hung my head, remembering my sins. My ruin.

My now sweaty hands gripped the note cards as my heart pounded, so loud that I would swear the people sitting on the front row could hear the blood whooshing through my veins. They were all staring at me like I’d lost it. I had. I’d finally stepped off the razor’s edge I’d been walking for years.

I closed my eyes and thought of Weissnichtwo, rolling the word around in my head, letting the syllables soothe me. My words always made me feel better. Only it didn’t work this time because I’d broken wide open. Like a cake that’s been baked too long, I was done.

Finished.

I released my note cards to the floor and watched as they fluttered down like frightened little birds, escaping at last. I raised my head and faced the audience. Clearing my throat, I leaned over the podium until my lips were right on the microphone and delivered my new opening remarks, “Fuck Briarcrest Academy, and fuck you all.”

Finally, some of the pain and darkness that had been wrapped around my soul fell away.

I smiled for real this time without even trying.

It felt good to be bad.