Page 87 of Riot Act
I am running seriously late for first class by the time I hit the road that leads up to the academy. I’m still smiling, though, as I blast some music, singing at the top of my lungs when I pull into the long, sweeping driveway. I’m still smiling when I loop around into the parking lot at the rear of the academy. I’m still smiling when I grab my bag and run toward the entrance. And, when I see the familiar figure standing on the steps, my smile still doesn’t falter. Because he’s so out of place, so unexpected, waiting there by the door for me, that I don’t piece it together at first.
It's only when Jonah jogs down the steps and meets me halfway, closing a firm hand around the top of my arm, that reality hits home and I realize that this is real.
He’s here.
Now.
“Hey there, Red. Nice to see you looking so cheerful for once.” His smile is magnetic. The words sound so charming when he says them. “Come on. Come with me. I think we need to have a little chat, don’t you?”
“What the—” My heart stops beating in my chest. “What are youdoinghere?”
He grins, and my vision begins to narrow. But not before the memories I’ve done such a good job of holding back all come rushing in, crowding me, demanding my attention.
The ominous presence, crouching, waiting for me in the dark.
The bed.
The blood.
The knife.
32
PRES
THE NIGHT OF…
“You should go. If Dad finds you in here—”
“Don’t be fucking stupid, Presley. You saw how much he drank at dinner. He’s already snoring in his bed. And even if he did find me in here, what? He’s gonna think his children are hanging out, spending some time together?Oh no.”
Jonah turns on the tiny lamp on my nightstand, then sits himself down on the bed next to me. He reaches out and winds a lock of my loose hair around his index finger, scowling at it, and a bolt of nausea makes my stomach roil. He never did like my hair. He always said it reminded him of my mother. My mother, who he despises, almost as much as he despises me.
He catches me flinching and laughs under his breath. “Ahh come on, Pres. Don’t act all coy now. You’ve never shied away from my touch before.”
I have. He knows I have. The first time he came into my room when I was thirteen, I kicked and screamed so loud that he shoved a filthy rag into my mouth and pinched my nose until I couldn’t breathe, and I passed out. When I’d woken up an unknown amount of time later, he’d already been inside me. The pain had been a bright sting. He’d grunted as he’d fucked me, grinding away on top of me, leaning his forearm across my throat to make sure I couldn’t scream again.
He’d forced a Plan B pill down my throat the next morning, while Mom and Dad had been arguing in the kitchen. I’d thrown it up an hour later, but it hadn’t mattered. I hadn’t even started my period then. The next time he came to my room, I’d actually beenonmy period. He hadn’t cared. The two times after that, he’d dragged me down into the basement of the Airbnb we were staying at Palm springs and he’d fucked me in the ass “to avoid any unnecessary complications,” he’d said.
I was sent away to Wolf Hall after that, and he went off to college. I haven’t seen hm for three years…until tonight.
I slap his hand away. “I’m not some skinny kid you can push around anymore, Jonah. Get the fuck out of my room.”
He has the audacity to look hurt. “What is your deal, Presley? We always have fun together, you and me. I don’t get why you’re being so salty.”
My senses are spiraling. I can’t see, hear, think straight. I’m about to explode. “Get out of my room, Jonah. I fucking mean it. I’m not gonna let you touch me again.”
He laughs. “You are something else, little sister. You’re the one who always came onto me, strutting around in your little shorts and those skimpy little t-shirts. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you.”
“Bullshit! You fucking raped me!”
He grabs me by the throat, slamming me back so hard that my skull hits the headboard behind me, and for a second I can’t see.
“Shut your mouth,” he hisses. “You girls are all the fucking same. You taunt a guy and flash your body at us, and the moment we give you what you want, you use the ugliest word you can think of to make yourselves feel better. Well, you’re not pulling that shit with me, Red. I know you. You can’t lie to me. You were making eyes at me all fucking night across the dinner table. So guess what? Now you’re gonna reap what you sow.”
When I came to bed earlier, I’d hoped this wasn’t going to happen. I’d taken precautions in case it did, though. Groping around behind me, I reach under the pillow and find what I’m looking for: the six-inch-long knife that I took from Dad’s chef set. The blade is two inches wide and honed to an unbelievably sharp edge. Dad told me once that it could cut through bone. The second Jonah sees the flash of the steel in the dark, he releases me and leaps back from the bed.
“Whoa ho ho! What the fuck is this?” he says, laughing. “You decided to bring weapons to the party? I gotta say, I never thought you had it in you.”
