Page 3 of Linebacker
Flight is my usual go to reaction, but in this instance, that’s not an option. For some reason, maybe it’s the fact that in a few days I’ll be away from this school, away from their mental bullying, harassment, and constant threat that hovers over me daily, I get an irrepressible urge to fight.
Hell, I’m still basking in the afterglow of my shitty pants prank, which was the talk of the school for over a week. Seems his football buddies didn’t think twice about relaying that tale of his humiliation to the rest of the school, despite him being their QB1 king.
Could it be that Bell isn’t liked as much as he thinks he is? That his teammates’ loyalty has run its course and they are seeing him for exactly what he is. Me thinks that not everything is rosy in camp FUB and as his sheep will also flee the flock soon, their loyalty no longer holds much fortitude.
I take a step forward, losing the few inches between us. Tilting my head up, I look him straight in the eye and hiss, “Get out of my way, Bell-end,” using my own preferred name for the arse wipe. With my feet six inches apart and planted firmly on the tiled floor, fisted hand resting on my hip, I growl out a further, “Move arsehole,” I place my other hand firmly on his chest and push. I hope that my tone, stance and body language convey strength; enough to get the dick to back off. But when his hand curls around mine, which would have been a sign of endearment if it wasn’t for the firmness of his grip, I realise that I’m failing abysmally.
“Jesus,” he laughs, turning just enough so he can address the rest of his entourage as they hover around him. “Looks like my theory was right, lads. ‘Hopeless’ has been harbouring a crush on me all this time, and now that we’re leaving, it’s clear that her dreams of kissing me are and always will be just that. A fucking fairy tale.”
“Ha, don’t kid yourself, fuckface.” I snigger in his face while trying to pull my hand out of his grip, but all he does is tighten it. “You might think you’re all that, but from what I hear in the girl’s bathroom, kissing you is like locking lips with a rancid lizard with a septic tongue.” Two lads gasp but more of them laugh, some covering their mouths with their hands to stifle the noise.
All that does is egg me on, so I lean in a bit and take two exaggerated sniffs of the air between us.
“Do you know that brushing your teeth twice a day and a little mouth wash might help with the bad breath?” I say with all seriousness. “The dreadful, slimy lip action? I’ll level with you. I’m not sure if that can be fixed.” I yank again, harder this time to release my hand. When he lets go, I revel in the fact that I’ve won this particular tug of war, but when he spins me ninety degrees, pushing my back against the wall, it’s short-lived.
“Lies,” he spits. “And I’ll prove it.”
I’m not even aware that my mouth is open on a gasp, from the shock of being pinned against the wall until his lips are crushing mine and his tongue is halfway down my throat. Fact is, all my words were lies because I have no friends here and therefore not privy to any girl chat in the bathroom, hallway or changing rooms come to think of it. But I must be psychic or something because his kiss is vomit inducing and twice as bad as I’d described.
As he continues to ram his tongue in and out of my mouth, he gives me no option but to do one thing… bite.
As he pushes in, I clamp down. The coppery taste of blood tells me I’ve punctured flesh. It muffles his scream until I relax my jaw and push him away with all the strength I have. The blood that has collected in my mouth I have no desire to swallow, so I spit it at him. It lands on his shirt, on the exact spot where he had held my hand captive.
When he regains his balance, his fingers go to the corner of his mouth, then he pulls them away to examine the blood now coating the tips. The shock of my assault on him shows clearly on his face.
“You’re a psycho bitch,” he splutters. Blood and saliva dribble down his chin. His words are distorted, which tells me that his tongue is already started to swell.
“Maybe I am.” I know that the smile on my face must appear like I’ve totally lost the plot, but I don’t care. I feel violated. “Does that scare you, Bell-end?” With wide eyes and a lop-sided grin, I add, “Does it make you shit your pants?” The laugh that I exude is crazed, which only intensifies when I see the light of realisation explode on his face.
“It was you,” he hisses out. His arms shoot forward and before I’ve had the chance to duck, his hand is around my throat, his forearm firm across my chest and my back once again slaps hard against the wall. Instantly, my hands go to his around my neck. Gasping for breath, I can sense my eyes are beginning to bulge, my fingers clawing against his hold as I try to get him to release the pressure.
“Enough,” a deep voice roars from the side-line and the next thing I know, the pressure is gone and I’m on my knees panting and wheezing as I breathe in deep gulps of air. When I get my senses back and my vision clears, I raise my eyes to find that my tormentors are no longer crowding me. I do, however, catch sight of the retreating FUB’s backs as they disappear further down the hallway.
My exams are over, so I have no reason to stick around for the rest of the afternoon. I get to my feet, hold my head up high, forcing down the signs of my pending breakdown, and walk. I ignore every single one of the students who stood glaring at me with smirks on their faces. Their eyes seem to burn into my skin as I make my way to the nearest exit. Not one of these vultures had stepped in to stop this when it had gotten out of hand. All they were interested in was the entertainment value. The last thing I’m going to do is let them get a kick from seeing my pain. I wait until I’m clear of the school grounds and view of anyone before I let my emotions come to the surface.
CHAPTER4
Igo straight to the coffee shop because I’m shaking from the violence that has occurred, not only Bell’s but my own too. I’m not in a fit state to go home.
As soon as I step through the door, Windy seeing the shaking, tear-stained wreck that I am, she’s across the room and hustling me out the back and into her office. Once I’m sat in her chair, she rushes off. She’s only gone a few minutes before she’s back, kneeling on the floor in front of me, with hot tea that smells sweeter than a bag full of fudge.
“Drink this,” she orders, placing the mug between my hands that are cradled in my lap. “Dear Lord, girl. What the hell has happened?”
My body shakes as I recited back to her the turn of events through trembling lips. By the time I’ve finished with the help of the hot, sweet tea, my emotions have turned from fear to anger. Fury bubbles through my veins, causing my hands to shake erratically. The fact that I had turned to violence to get back at them makes me sick to the stomach because it’s not so different from the violence that I’ve seen and endured in my life and hate with a passion.
“I can’t believe I did what I did,” I exhale. “Do you think I’m like my father?”
“Hell, to the fuck. No.” Windy fires back at me with a sharpness in her voice that I’ve never heard before unless referring to the FUB’s. “You are nothing like your father. You were pushed too far and were retaliating, that is all.”
Yes, the knee to his balls, a well know woman’s go-to when being attacked, was brutal, but biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Fucking hell, what have I become?
“But that’s not who I am. I can’t fight them that way,” I cry. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to make them sorry, regret the hell that they have put me through for God knows how long, but not like this.”
“Then we work smart.” Windy stands to her full height in front of me. Moving to her desk, she grabs a notebook and pen from the top before resting her bottom against it. “Everyone has a secret or a weakness, an Achilles’ heel, so to speak. All we need to do is work out what theirs is and hit them where it hurts without you actually being physical.”
“Like what? It’s not like I know much about their personal life.”
“So, who are the players?” she asks.
