Page 70 of Satan's Spawn
Rebecca takes another minute, and I watch as she clutches the cross around her neck with sadness glistening her eyes. She doesn’t attempt to get away this time, but I still grip her tighter.
“How?” I repeat the question through clenched teeth, feeling like maybe someone hurt her, and maybe I should kill whoever the motherfucker is.
The urge to know the truth overwhelms me, in more ways than one. I don’t want to give a shit about this girl, not even as I watch a tear fall freely down her cheek. I should be enthralled by her sadness, but for reasons I can’t fucking comprehend, it enrages me seeing her this way.
Rebecca notices my agitation, and studies me briefly before swiping away the tear. “I fell off my father’s surf board.”
There’s an awkward silence when I realize it was an accident: the both of us trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me. I don’t give her an inch, though. I won’t even give it to myself.
“Why didn’t you tell Beaumont what I did to you?” I release her, needing to change the subject, and Rebecca tightens the robe around her chest.
“Because I’m a good person.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The disgust she retains for me is back on her face. “You’re no one to judge me, Crayton Shaw, not after the shit I’ve seen you do.”
Oh, she hasn’t seen anything yet.
“Careful, Little Ghost. I’m trying to be nice.”
“By crushing my hand under your boot? Leaving me bruised? Tormenting me just to end up hiding in the bathrooms like a creep to watch me shower?”
“Who’s hiding?” I look around. “In case you haven’t noticed, I care very little for repercussions.”
“Then why are you so worried about what I said to Beaumont?”
I take several steps back to lean against the wall. “I’m curious. There’s a difference.”
“Or you’re scared of what he thinks.”
Rebecca’s pushing me and she knows it, the proud smile breaking free on her face makes it obvious.
“I’m not fucking scared of what he thinks.”
“Then you’re scared of what he’ll do.” She lifts her chin defiantly. “It’s one or the other.”
I pull a cigarette out of my pocket, placing it between my teeth when she speaks again, sharper this time.
“Look, Crayton. Riverside is a huge opportunity for me. One I intend to see through. And I’ll die before allowing someone like you to fuck up my future.”
I fish for the lighter next, bringing it to the tip of the cigarette. Rebecca watches me closely as I take the first pull, propping the bottom of my boot against the wall. “That can be arranged, you know.”
Pale cheeks turn red as she marches over, her expressed anger as comical as the slapping sound she’s making with those flip flops. “So can the truth.” Rebecca stops in front of me, jabbing a thumb into her chest. “And I can still speak it.” She pops a hand on her hip. “You got plans to kill me, Crayton? Bring it on. Just know, I won’t be going down without a fight.”
Her robe has loosened again, and the glimpse of a perky breast diverts my attention, which isn’t brought back until Rebecca realizes and quickly tightens it behind the straps.
“Good, I enjoy a little struggle.” I inhale another drag, blowing a cloud of smoke directly at her.
“Spoken like a true sadist,” she says, trying to appear unaffected by the stench.
So diligent, even in her visceral reactions.
When I do nothing but chuckle, she finally drops the tough girl facade.“What do you want from me, Crayton? Seriously? Why are you so hot and cold?”
The fuck if I know.
A loud chime goes off in her pocket, interrupting our conversation.
