Page 100 of Satan's Spawn
I stare blankly at him. “Nice try, Crayton. But I can easily call my mother and ask her to get me a refill from my doctor. In fact, maybe I’ll tell her the truth about how I lost my medication. Or better yet, I can go straight to Beaumont and tell him myself.”
Crayton shrugs. “Go right ahead, I bet your mother would love to hear how her daughter sounds when she comes all over my fingers. Along with our headmaster, we both know how much he loves a good scandal between the sexes.”
He would not.
Then again, this is a guy who’s threatened me with a knife on several occasions. It’s pretty safe to say his moral compass only points south of the theological border.
“I’ll call the doctor’s office myself then and get another prescription.”
Crayton nods. “It’s a solid idea. For two weeks from now.”
My gaze darts back and forth, trying to comprehend what the hell he means by that. Unfortunately nothing comes to me until I hear him say, “September thirtieth to be exact.”
My eighteenth birthday. Of course. A doctor’s office can’t fill any prescription of a minor without parental consent. This fucking guy is always twenty steps ahead of me and I hate it. I cannot go two weeks without my meds, not only because it’s dangerous, but because it can seriously hinder my ability to learn.
I look down at the time on my phone, then pull at the roots of my hair, panic creeping up my spine yet again because It’s already twenty after seven. “Give me my damn medicine, Crayton!”
“Not until you agree to be my b—”
I hold my breath, imagining I look something like a rabid dog as I silently dare him to finish that sentence.
“Brain. Duh.” He corrects. “So whaddya say, Little Ghost? How far are you willing to go to secure your future?”
If this was any other person asking me this question, I’d say to the ends of the earth, but this is Crayton Shaw, my bully, my tormentor, and he feeds off my surrender.
The last thing I want to do is hand it over on a silver platter. So I hold my ground.
“I won’t be your little bitch.”
“Fine,” he says, pulling out both bottles from his pocket and trudging over to the nearest toilet. I hear the pop of a lid and the splatters of tiny pills hitting water.
“No!” I screech, running over to find him tossing the first bottle into the toilet. “Oh my God, stop!”
Crayton opens the second bottle, smiling as he responds, “I’ll make sure to let your mother know about the special bag of toys you keep under your bed too.” He sucks air through his teeth. “And here I thought I was the kinky one.”
Oh holy hell. He did see my goody bag.
Crayton’s hand rises slowly over the porcelain seat, watching me, and when I say nothing he begins tilting the bottle over the water inch by taunting inch. When I continue my silence he allows a single pill to fall into the toilet, along with my last ounce of hope.
“Fine!” I cry, blowing out a defeated breath. “I’ll do your school work just please give me back my medication.”
“Good girl.” He quickly turns the bottle upright. Reaching into his back pocket, Crayton pulls out a spiral notebook and presents it to me as an offering. I’m yanking it from his grasp as he adds, “I have all of my assignments listed in here. Most are due by tomorrow. Some on Tuesday.”
“You really are despicable,” I say through a hollow breath, but again, he ignores my jab.
“You will come to me whenever you need to take your medicine. As long as you’re doing as you’re told and not pissing me off, I’ll make sure you get your dose.” He pulls out a pill from the bottle, holding it out for me to take. “And since I pity you as much as I do, I’ll keep our dirty little secret under wraps and delete the recording after I get my car back.”
I swipe the pill from his hand, examining it briefly to make sure it’s mine, then pop it into my mouth, not bothering to look for water. “Crayton, you can’t be serious. That’s three times a day.”
“Let me stop you right there, Rebecca. I care more about Saint’s occasional bout of athlete’s foot than I do your inconvenience.”
And there’s not a doubt in my mind he means that.
“Oh, and I don’t need to remind you that pissing me off goes hand in hand with FelixfuckingCrimson. So it’s in your best interest to stay away from him.”
“Anything else you’d like to add to the list of things I need to do to keep you satisfied?” I pop a hip, securing his book under my arm.
The question is a sarcastic one, but of course Crayton uses this as an opportunity to demand the unimaginable.
