Page 100 of The Demons We Hide

The worst part is… I know he’s right. Who would come after me? Mads and Roquel have no resources. They’d just go to the police, and what would Silverwood PD do about me? Let me go, that’s what.

The Scorpion Kings? Would they? I mean, really? Why? Because they fucked me a few times? No. It’s useless to think they would rescue me for pussy. To them, I was probably just a good way to pass time for a bit than I was a reason for one of their own getting hurt.

As if I hadn’t already been presented with the truth time and time again, the realization that I’m all alone in this world crashes into me with all the subtlety of a freight train. My insides crack wide open and I can see in my mind’s eye as the image of the back of the van’s ceiling spirals in front of me how useless it would be to expect anyone to save me.

No one is coming to rescue the daughter of a criminal.

Just like no one came to rescue me the night a monster snuck into my bed.

I’ve always been alone, I just didn’t know it until now.

39

GIO

Sweat coats my face, slides down my temple inside my helmet. Despite the temperatures and my lack of a coat on the field, I am burning up. My muscles, some of them still achy from disuse, strain with the effort I put in. The next call for line up happens and I station myself across from a somewhat familiar face.

Brandon Pillard. The prick ducks his head, avoiding eye contact like the pussy he is, but my attention is locked on him. It’s not about the game and it’s not about winning. It’s about getting a little revenge for Prep Girl.

“Your ass is grass, Pillard,” I say. “I hope you aren’t planning to play in college because you may not play again after tonight.”

His head jerks up and shock covers his expression. I laugh. “Y-you can’t threaten?—”

“Down!” Nolan barks out the word. All the linemen lower into place. “Ready, set!” We go still and I grin. “Hut, hut!”

The ball switches hands and our wide receiver takes off. I slam forward, grinding Pillard back a few feet as Nolan backs up and the ball goes flying.

“Fucker!” Pillard punches out and I wince as he catches my ribs, but I don’t let go. I bodily lift the asshole and slam him down onto his back, my hand snapping out and sucker punching him right in the gut. The wheeze of his air escaping is music to my ears. But it’s not enough. When he rears up and loses his shit, trying to punch me in my face despite the helmet, I laugh and quickly knock his ass back into the dirt.

“Dirty play, bitch,” I snap. Before waving a hand to one of the referees.

“Pillard, sidelines, now!” The Silverwood Prep coach screams. When I look up, the other man’s face is a molted red hue with perspiration shining under the hot lights of the football field on his balding forehead.

“Yeah, Pillard,” I say. “Back to the sidelines where you belong. Next time it might be more than a bruised ego.”

“You fucking?—”

One of the Silverwood Prep team members cuts between us and directs Pillard in the opposite direction. Behind me, Nolan speaks up.

“He say shit?” I turn to find Nolan’s glare on the back of Pillard’s head.

“Nope.” I shrug. “I just hate looking at his ugly mug.”

Nolan hums and I turn towards the stands to see what Prep Girl thinks of—I frown. Madison Torres sits at the front of the bleachers, snapping a few shots with her camera, but the seat next to her is empty. My gaze moves up to where I thought I’d seen Roquel at the beginning of the game, but she’s sitting with a group of girls and none of them are Juliet.

“Where the fuck is Juliet?”

Nolan spins and follows my gaze. “She’s probably in the bathroom,” he says.

“Don’t girls go in packs or something?” I ask.

My question is never answered, but it doesn’t matter anyway because the broadcaster calls out across the field, announcing halftime. It’s the perfect time to find out for myself. I wave Lex over and the three of us head towards the front of the bleachers, bypassing Coach and ignoring his wave of summons as we make a beeline for Mads.

She lowers her camera to her lap with a frown when she realizes we’re approaching. Just as I’d done earlier, I drop my helmet to the floor of the bleachers and climb the rungs like a ladder until I’m half over the top.

“Where’s Juliet?” I demand.

Mads looks to the side and then frowns. “Uh, she went to the bathroom at the start of the game, but she should’ve been back by now,” she answers with a wince before turning back. “She seemed a little off—maybe she just went home?”

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