Page 50 of False Idols

“Fuck you! Go fuck yourself, you asshole!” I launch another helmet at him, but this one goes wide. It crashes into a sign and sends a whole precarious tower of signage to the floor. I grab another helmet and swing it, but I don’t get the chance to throw it at Beau because he’s closed the distance between us. He crowds me back against the table. Strong arms wrap around my waist and his hard chest leaves me nowhere to go. He rips the helmet from my hands and tosses it to the side while I start to swing on him. My fists go wide and nothing really connects. I don’t know what I’m doing but it doesn’t stop me from trying. I scream and scratch at him and when that doesn’t work, I try to bite him. I manage to get my teeth on his forearm when he shoves me down on the table. He grunts in pain as I bite down as hard as I can. I hope I draw blood. Right now, I want to rip his flesh off his bone and spit it at him. Beau forces his arm into my mouth with his weight and I can’t keep my bite strong enough. It feels like my jaw is going to shatter from the force he’s using and I have to let go.

“I hate you!” I scream. Spit flies out of my mouth and I snap my teeth at him, even though he has me pinned and I have no chance of biting him again. I don’t feel human right now. I feel like a wild animal, desperate for freedom from Beau’s cruel hands.

“Oh angel, we know that’s not true. You love me.”

Love.

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have let me do what I did to you. You enjoyed that, angel.”

He’s right. I hate that he’s right.

“Been thinking you’ve loved me for a long while now, Nevaeh. Isn’t that right?”

I feel raw and exposed. Like my whole body has been cracked open and every sensitive part of me is on display for Beau. His smile, that smile I’ve coveted, adored, and feared over the course of my life, turns mean. It’s always mean when it’s on me now. And as weak as I am, I can’t help but want even his meanness for myself. I’m greedy for every part of Beau that he gives me. Sharp edges, thorns and all.

Why do I still want his smiles?

“No!” I try to kick at him but he’s too strong. I push back, trying to get away from him by rolling off of the table, but I’m yanked back and held down. Beau leans over me and grabs something before he’s on top of me and my arms are pinned. I can't move them more than a few inches and when I look down I see that he’s grabbed the volleyball net that fell and is using it to tie me down.

“No! Don’t!” I shriek and try to wiggle free, but it’s no use. He grunts as he rips through the netting and twists it into a rope that he loops around my neck and face. The netting burns and it’s so much heavier than I would have thought. Beau winds it around my neck and uses it to force my head back over the edge of the table I’m on top of. “Beau, no!” I’m frantic and my throat feels raw from how loud I’m screaming, but Beau isn’t phased.

He laughs.

His laugh tells me everything. He loves that I’m scared. The more that I struggle, the better this is for him. Oh god. He’s going to kill me. And, because I don’t know how else to be when it comes to Beau, I give him exactly what he wants and I fight him.

19

BEAU

Nevaeh acting like a bitch is a turn on. Who knew that was going to be my thing? I fucking didn’t. Not when I spent every day dreaming of having her on her knees and begging for mercy. Never once did I dream of Nevaeh fighting me, of her talking shit or putting her hands on me. There’s a scratch on my neck, but it’s nothing compared to the wound she’s got covered by the bandage on her neck tonight. I’ve watched her over the past two weeks wearing the bandage and it’s made me hard knowing she was covering a mark I gave her. I’ve also watched her relax.

Nevaeh let her guard down, especially in our Death and Dying class. We have those other classes together, but it’s different in Death and Dying. She relaxes enough to smile. I don’t like seeing her so carefree and happy. She’s not allowed to look that way without me. Rage is all I’ve felt since seeing it. I want her happiness to be mine. I want to bend and break her until she remembers there is no happiness without me.

She’s not allowed it.

“Beau, no!” Nevaeh shrieks and I pull the netting I’ve got wrapped around her tighter and towards me. I pull it back until I’m able to loop it around the table leg closest to me and hear her cry out when I tie it off with a jerk.

Joy and smiles only exist when Nevaeh is with me. She screams again and it’s sweet to me. No one is going to hear her here, so I let her.

“Don’t have any more fucking smart ass things to tell me, angel?”

I take a beat and look down at her. She’s beautiful, even if she’s got a net wrapped around her neck and head. Nevaeh stares up at me with wide eyes through the netting. The nylon from the net digs into her and marks her skin with a diamond pattern across her face and neck every time she struggles to get free.

“Fuck you,” she spits out at me and I smile down at her.

“That’s my good girl. You always do what you’re told, don’t you?” I ask her, while I run a hand down her side. She’s gorgeous in front of me, splayed out like my own personal feast on the table. She’s wearing the school’s colors in a pretty blue shirt that I recognize from her socials. She’s had the shirt for years. I’m glad she’s wearing it now. I’ve wanted to touch her with this shirt on for so fucking long.

I move my hands down to her thighs and grip them. I want to take my time with her, but this isn’t the right time. It never is with us, but I’ll make it good for my beautiful fucking liar. I’m going to give her a reward for being so good for me.

“Yes,” Nevaeh whispers. She’s gone still beneath me and when I look at her face, I see that she doesn’t look scared. She looks defiant. There’s an edge to her that wasn’t there before. I like seeing it in her eyes. This is the real Nevaeh.

“You’re going to scream for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes!”

Hearing her scream that one word is life giving. The only other moment that comes close to hearing Nevaeh scream yes was when I took my first step out of prison, but even then it pales in comparison to what freedom is for me—what freedom means for me.

Freedom is fucking worthless to me if I can’t have Nevaeh telling me yes. I want her to want this. I want her to show me. I want to hear her say it. The night I fucked her, she told me yes. She told me yes even while she hated it. It confused her, but my sweet fucking girl wanted it as much as I did.

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