Page 55 of False Idols

I refuse to let her look like that, so I pretend everything is going to be okay.

21

BEAU

I smell like Nevaeh and it’s bliss. I’ve got her scent in my nose and her taste on my tongue. I barely bothered to clean myself up after we were done. I wanted the reminder of what I’d done to her. As good as memories are, it's the physical reminder of being marked by Nevaeh that’s helping me keep my shit together while I’m walking to the party I don’t want to be at.

Ali texted that she was running late, which suits my plans. The less time I have with her the better. I stopped by my place and thought about calling the whole thing off. I thought about bringing Nevaeh to my apartment.

The night is cool and calm. I can hear the music from the party and laughter from the other students walking up the block with me to the party. It’s within walking distance of my apartment, up on the hill where all the Frats and Sorority houses are. The houses are an odd mix here with a lot of new development, like the frat houses the community allowed to come in to cover up the fact that the houses might be older here, but they aren’t nicer. Most of the houses are in good repair, but there’s still the odd house that’s more derelict than charming in this part of town so close to the university. Mostly college kids live here and there’s a mostly blocked drainage ditch that runs behind these houses and the hill they’re built on. I remember it being a huge fuss and someone made a ‘Clean Up Bloom’ initiative, because of the underbrush that filled in the drainage ditch when it stopped being used in the 80’s. The town said it was an eyesore, that it was a prime hiding spot for The Reaper. He never put anybody there, so the town let go of their initiative. Besides, it’s not like there was anything to really clean up in Bloom. This was just a shitty college neighborhood so the houses mostly looked like that, but the party tonight won’t be in one of the older houses.

It’ll be at Jordan’s house and that means it’ll be nice, because the big dumb fuck is in a frat.

Omega Beta something, I don’t know and I don’t fucking care. All I know is the address sent to the team. Even without it I’d be able to find the party by the amount of people spilling out of the house and into the front yard. There’s a table set up for beer pong and a circle of guys passing around a massive mug, chanting ‘Macho Mug!’ as they drink. Yup, this is the fucking place.

It’s a big plantation style home, which is weird in it’s fucking self. This is the Midwest, not the South, but that doesn’t stop the faux rich from faking prestige or whatever high it is people with money get from pretending they got here with the Mayflower. I’m acutely aware my family, my mother, is cut from the same cloth as the founders of this shitty frat. I might have been too once-upon-a-time, but that changed in prison. Prison has a way of breaking you down into so many little jagged pieces that you stop being worried about who is related to who, or who donated the most to the collection plate on Sunday. You don’t care about any of that. What you care about is survival. To survive you need true power.

Power doesn’t come from pedigree. Power comes from brutality. Power comes when you give up your soul.

I haven’t had a soul for a very long fucking time.

I roll my shoulders and force myself back into the All-American mold everyone thinks still fits me, but I barely get more than a few steps before the smile on my face cracks.

“Did you hear what Jordan did today to that crazy chick?” A girl asks. She’s standing in front of me, tottering in her heels on the wet lawn. “Fuck, my goddamn heels are going to be trashed from this mud.” She bends down and yanks at her foot, grabbing her friend’s arm to hold herself steady.”

“Yeah, I mean, she lied, but…” the girl standing beside her starts, but she loses her voice when her friend stops tugging at her heel and looks up at her.

“She did more than lie. She fucked Beau’s life up. She’s a fucking monster and she deserves what Jordan did. I wish he’d caught her.”

I’ve never seen the girl that’s talking like she knows me. She doesn’t give a fuck about me. She cares about the idea of me. Of who I was. She’s eager to prove just how much she matters by tearing Nevaeh down. My hands curl into fists. I’m the only one allowed to tear Nevaeh apart.

What the fuck did Jordan do?

“That doesn’t mean he should be as bad as her. I-I was there at the game and she looked so scared from him chasing her. I heard what he was saying. H-he said he was going to kill her.”

The other girl snorts. “That’s not what he said.”

“Yes he did! He said he would or The Reaper would, Denise. It’s the same fucking shit. He said he was going to get away with it. That’s insane. I can’t believe we’re at his party. He’s fucking crazy.”

“Whatever. Bitch deserves it.” Denise waves a hand at her friend. “And besides, he’s already trashed, okay? He texted me earlier. He’s around the back of the house near the fire from his last story he posted, so let’s just stay inside and drink, okay?”

Outside. Jordan’s outside by a fire. That I can use. I take a step back and look behind me. The group I’d been walking with have surged forward and joined the chaos of the party. No one’s seen me yet.

I know what I have to do.

“Now let’s get off this fucking lawn before my shoes are…” I block out their voices. Everything narrows and mutes. There’s nothing but the thudding of my heart and the adrenaline now moving through my body. I used to feel this way in lock up when there was word out someone was coming for me. The anticipation, the gear up to the fight, the knowledge that it was either them or me.

I chose me every time. This time I’m choosing Nevaeh.

I don’t go inside the party like I was about it. Instead, I circle the house and head to the back. I’m not ready for anyone to see me yet. There’s only one person I want to see, but he’s not going to see me coming. At least, if he’s lucky he won’t see me coming. Because no one is going to stop me from ending him.

Jordan.

Goddamn, motherfucking Jordan. That limp dick motherfucker thinks he can chase my girl. That he can threaten to kill her. Jordan. Jordan.Jordan.Jordan.

His name is the only thing I can think as I walk forward in the shadows surrounding the big house. I see a fire just like the girl talked about. It’s burning bright, maybe a hundred feet from the house. I stick to the shadows of the trees and hedges growing around the perimeter of the frat house and survey the backyard. It’s a big yard with a sprawling lawn and a few small storage sheds that sit along the far end of the lawn. The trees look bigger there and I see the telltale outline of chopped wood beside the storage sheds. I stop and look over the hedge to my right and see nothing but darkness. The drainage ditch is there. There’s nothing to step on past the hedge, so I can’t creep up the other side like I want. It’s all right though, everyone is too drunk to notice me on my way to the sheds.

My feet take me there, it’s closer to the fire and I’ll be able to get eyes on Jordan easier. I can decide what to do from there. I make it to the stacked wood and pause when I hear voices nearby.

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