Page 40 of Revenge At Raleigh High
My blood is instantly ice-cold.
Jacob Weaving.
His bag is thrown over his shoulder, just the one strap, effortlessly cool-looking. Naturally, he’s wearing his letterman jacket. His blond hair is swept back in that douchey way that makes him look like he just came from an Abercrombie and Fitch photo shoot. I recognize that he’s handsome, the same way you look at the sky and register that it’s blue, but I’m also so repulsed by the sight of him at the same time that I almost double over and puke onto the hallway floor.
His blue eyes harden to steel when he sees me. “Well, if it isn’t Boudicca herself.” The venom in his voice is shocking; this isn’t the playful, slightly arrogant Jake he presents to the rest of the world, when there are other people around to see. This is the hate-filled, spiteful, evil piece of shit who had his friends pin me down while he tried to sink his increasingly flaccid dick inside me on a bathroom floor. I think, perhaps, I’m one of very few people who have ever met therealJacob. I can’t decide if I feel sorry for him, having to hide how hideous he is as a person all the time, or if I’m grateful that he has the decency to do it.
I roll my shoulders back, setting my jaw, meeting his gaze with indifference; I know just how crazy it makes him when I don’t respond to him with fear. I learned that the hard way, with that cold bathroom tile digging into my back and Sam Hawthorne kneeling his bodyweight onto my wrists, so heavy it felt as though the bones would break at any moment. “I’m shocked,” I say coolly. “I had no idea you knew who Boudicca was.”
His warped sneer is ugly and makes his face barely recognizable. “Oh, I know exactly who she was. She interfered, stood up to the wrong people, and got herself killed for it.”
Hah. Makes sense that he would skip the part where the Romans invaded her city, killed her family, and she led the charge against them, rallying her people, and proceeded to make life a living nightmare for them, almost pushing the Romans out of London altogether before they finally caught and killed her. She was brave. A warrior. She was courageous and sought justice in the face of unbelievable odds, even though she knew she would ultimately die. If Jake wants to pick a figurehead for stupidity as a warning, then really, he picked the wrong woman. It’s anhonorthat he would compare me to Boudicca.
I shouldn’t have waited for everyone to get to class before leaving the locker rooms, because now the hallways are deserted. Jake smiles like the snake that he is when he realizes this. I have nowhere to go as he crosses the hallway to stand in front of me. “Jade Prescott’s boyfriend just told me she asked you to rejoin the Sirens,” he says. I hate myself for flinching when he reaches out and takes a piece of my hair, wrapping it thoughtfully around his fingers. I can’t help it, though. I am wired to recoil from him. I should have been wired that way from the beginning. It should have been obvious to anyone who looked close enough that Jake was a vile, cruel, despicable human being, but I didn’t know any better back then. I was too blinded by his looks to see him for what he was.
“Back away, Jake,” I snap, knocking his hand away. “After your performance in that music booth, quaking in your boots and pissing yourself at the smallest sound, I’d have thought you’d be more than willing to steer clear of me.”
His eyes are narrowed into murderous slits as he considers my face. His lips are parted and wet—a sight that would once have made me daydream about kissing him. It only reminds me of his mouth fastened around my nipple now, his teeth viciously grinding against the bud of my flesh. “What, you think I’m worried about you telling people I embarrassed myself? Pssshhh, come on, Silver. Don’t be ridiculous. We both know no one’ll believe you. They didn’t believe you the last time you opened that whore mouth of yours and tried to tattle on me, did they?”
I’m too hot. Too cold. My skin’s clammy, a nervous sweat breaking out down my back. It’s true. No one believed me when I went sobbing into Principle Darhower’s office. I wouldn’t let them call my parents. I wouldn’t let them call the police. The Raleigh High administration saw my unwillingness to report the ‘alleged’ crime to the authorities as a sign that I was making it all up. Never mind the bruises on my face…andthe ones between my legs.
I draw in a shaky breath, aware that Jake is moving closer, but my mind is shuttering, my thoughts a whirlwind of panic. He’s quick, grabbing me by the back of my neck with a strong hand, and the next thing I know he’s jerking me forward, planting his mouth down on mine.
It only lasts a fraction of a second. A disgusting, terrifying moment when he’s kissing me, trying to force my mouth open, and I can’t pull myself free from his grasp. My reactions finally kick in, urging strength into my arms, and I shove against his chest, making him trip backward over his own feet, sending him stumbling into the middle of the hallway. “God, you really are stupid, aren’t you,” he hisses.
“You’re the one with the fucking death wish. What do you think Alex is going to do when I—”
He drops his bag. The sound of it clattering to the floor echoes down the corridor, but there’s no one around to hear it. I barely have time to take a step back before he’s charging me, his hand closing around my jaw, fingers digging into my cheeks, and he’s slamming the back of my head against the wall behind me. “I’m not worried about that dumb motherfucker, Silver. I’m not evenslightlyworried. Wanna know why?” He spits the words out so hard that a fleck of his saliva hits my top lip. “Moretti isn’t a concern to me, because you’re not going to breathe a word of this to him, or anyone else. I’ve been doing some research on your boyfriend, and he’s walking a very fine line. One wrong step and he’s gonna find himself behind bars for a very long time.”
“He hasn’t done anything wrong,” I grind out.
Jake’s breath reeks of stale coffee; my stomach turns when it hits my face. “Really? You sure about that? Has he told you about his boss’s affiliation with those Dreadnaught losers who run drugs down to Seattle? Hmm?” He cracks my head against the wall again and my vision splinters, shards of light dancing in front of my eyes. “Has he told you about the little midnight runs he goes on for Montgomery Cohen? Has he mentioned anything aboutthat?” He laughs under his breath, the sound manic and unhinged. “Jesus, under normal circumstances, I’d have my father pin something on the bastard. Something that couldn’t be swept under the rug in a court of law, but I don’t even fucking need to this time. There’s plenty of legit ammunition to hand. So you, Silver Parisi, you are gonna keep you dirty little mouth shut, and I am gonna do whatever the hell I like. Understand?”
The pain in the back of my head is breathtaking.
“Do. You. Understand?”Jake spits. Maybe I nod. I don’t think I do. Perhaps it’s my dumb silence that Jake accepts as my agreement. He smiles broadly, flashing his perfectly straight, white teeth, and ice flows through my veins. “Good. Now that we’ve got that ironed out, why don’t you and I find somewhere a little more private to talk, hmm? Wouldn’t want someone stumbling across us and coming to the wrong conclusion now, would we?”
He fists my hair, using all his strength to pull me forward and then he smashes my head back against the wall one last time. A scream builds in the back of my throat, but I’m so dazed, so stunned by the fireworks exploding in my skull that I can’t force it out. My legs barely keep me upright as Jake, still holding onto a fist full of my hair, begins to drag me toward the door of the boy’s locker rooms.
“N—no!” Even through the panic and the pain, I know Jake can’t be allowed to drag me through that door. If he does, he’ll be able to take his time with me, do whatever he pleases, and no one will find us for hours. An electric current jolts me, bringing me back to my senses. All of the nights I’ve lain awake in my bed, wondering if I could have fought back harder in Leon’s bathroom, if I could have screamed louder, if I could done anything different to prevent what came next—all of those long hours come crashing down on me now, and I decide. There won’t be any room for doubt this time. I’ll kick, and scream, and gouge and bite. There’s no loud party to mask the noise I make today. I will use every last scrap and ounce of strength in my body before I allow him to humiliate and violate me again. I will fuckingdiebefore I let him touch me.
The roar builds deep down in my chest. I’m operating on sheer survival instinct as I drive my foot forward, using it to hook around Jake’s ankle, and then I’m pushing him forward, ramming him with every bit of momentum I can muster. He staggers, unbalanced, but he’s still standing, still holding onto me by my hair.
“Oh, Silver.Silver, Silver, Silver. Is thatseriouslythe best you can do?” The mockery in his voice sends a wave of fury screaming through me, and something strange happens. I seem to step out of myself, distancing myself from what’s happening. I see him wrenching on my hair. I see the malice in his eyes, and the look of cold detachment in mine, and I witness as I pull my fist back and I drive it up into his perfect Abercrombie and Fitch fucking face.
His head rocks back, blood spraying from his nose, and his hand goes slack, releasing his hold on me. I seize the opportunity and throw another punch. This time, the blow lands on his jaw, and pain fires up my arm, burning in my wrist. My form might not have been the best but I had surprise on my side. Jake topples sideways, still very conscious but visibly a little stupefied by what I’ve done.
Good.
The smart thing to do would be to run, but I’m not thinking clearly. I clamber up on top him, straddling his chest, and I bring my fists down on his head, putting everything I’ve got behind the punches. The skin across my knuckles splits. Pain and sheer insanity cycle around my body, pushing me on, encouraging me to keep on hitting him. Jake tries to grab hold of my wrists. He manages to grab one of them—my left—but I still have my right free. I clench my fist extra tight and drive it down one last time. Jake lets out a strangled shout, and then I’m flying backward away from him, skidding across the other side of the hallway. He’s kicked me off him. I sit up quickly, ready to launch myself at him, but he’s not even looking at me. He’s propping himself up on one hand, blotting at his nose with the back of his hand. His letterman jacket is covered in blood, as is the front of his white t-shirt.
For a second, he stares down at the back of his hand, at the blood slick on his skin, wearing an expression of abject confusion. How many times has Jacob Weaving been punched in the face before? I’m betting not very many. Nowhere nearenoughtimes, that’s for sure. Well, I just upped his tally by a good twenty times or so.
I’m bracing for the explosion. It’s coming any second. Jake’s going to jump to his feet and fly at me. He’s going to fucking kill me when he gets his hands on me. But then…
Down the hallway, a door opens and Mr. French peers down the hall, squinting at us. “Hey! What the hell are you twodoing? Stay right there!”
Jake and I stare at one another. A message of mutual hatred passes between us, so thick and foul that it chokes the life out of me. Jake breaks the exchange first, baring his blood-coated teeth at me as he scrambles to his feet and bolts in the opposite direction. I’m unsurprised; there’s no way he’d want to get hauled to Darhower’s office for fighting, given who he was fighting, and the fact that he definitely looks like he came off worse.
