CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
He started tapping on his screen. “Patience, Blair. You’re going to see in a minute.”
Oh my God. My chest began rising on quick breaths, my vision tunneling. It was like I was watching a train wreck with no way to stop it. I had no control, and I tried to calm myself down as my fear went through the roof, but it didn’t work.
“Zach, don’t do this.”
He ignored me, tapping some more.
“Zach—”
“Here. It’s done.” He finished tapping and offered me his phone. “Come on. Take it. You don’t want to miss this.”
Icy cold spread through me, and I couldn’t even move as I watched him, starting to shake.
“I said, take it,” he gritted through his teeth and shoved his phone in my hand.
I didn’t want to see what he’d done, but I couldn’t do anything as my gaze landed on my phone. The screen showed a video posted on several fake social media accounts.
“Who is really Blair Everett?” read on the thumbnail, which was a blurry picture of me on my knees in that VIP section, and pain and panic slammed into me.
I didn’t remember starting to play the video, getting even colder as I watched clear footage of me taking that man’s cock deep in my throat, my eyes glazed and saliva running down my chin.
To anyone watching, it would look like I was enjoying it, but for me, every second of it was torture I had to relive now all over again.
The video showed the entire act, but it didn’t stop there, revealing footage of me snorting coke in a VIP booth in another nightclub.
There were more clips of me in nightclubs, each painting a picture of debauchery, and I remembered them all being shot by Aurora.
Zach must’ve taken them from Aurora’s phone.
The video still didn’t stop, and I cried out when I saw myself hovering above a girl lying on the ground in the schoolyard.
My foot was on her back, pinning her down, her face pressed into the dirt.
Her face was blurred, but I remembered who she was.
The girl Zach had defended back then, when he confronted me for the first time.
“You’ve been pretty busy these days, badmouthing me all around,” I sneered.
The girl sobbed. “I didn’t say anything,” she said, her voice changed by a software.
“Yes, you did. And there’s that one word you used. What did you call me?”
“I didn’t call you anything.”
“Don’t lie to me. What did you call me?”
“I’m telling you, I—”
I yanked her head up by her hair. “I said, don’t lie to me. Tell me!”
She cried out. “Trash! I called you trash!”
I released her hair with a shove. “That’s right. You called me trash.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, now you’re sorry?” I tsked. “It seems you didn’t learn your lesson. I keep trying to tell you not to mess around with me, but you just won’t listen. But let’s see if you’ll finally wise up after this.”
“W-What do you mean?”
“Since you’re so obsessed with trash, here’s some for you.” I crouched and pressed my knee against her back, then picked up the plastic bag I’d placed on the ground next to me. It was filled with food wrappers, tissues, and food remains.
“No, please. Don’t do this. Don’t—”
I shoved the trash in her face. She gagged, her hands clawing at the ground as junk filled her mouth.
“You’re the only trash here, you fucking bitch. And you better keep your mouth shut from now on, or I’ll keep shutting it like this for you.”
She let out a choking sound, and I released her after several seconds, watching her cough violently and spew out the garbage.
“I can get worse, but you don’t really want to test me. So for your own good, stay in your lane.”
The footage ended there, but I remembered looking up to see Zach standing nearby. I didn’t see him filming me, but he must’ve done it while I wasn’t looking. He’d had this all along.
The video continued with more footage of me bullying students, but I couldn’t watch it anymore. Noise filled my head, and I swayed. Dozens of comments already filled the comment section, but I couldn’t read them. I couldn’t confirm how vicious they must be.
I raised my head to look at Zach, finding him watching me with eyes full of cruelty and hate. “How could you do this? How could you reveal it just like that?”
He sneered. “How could I do this? Do you actually have the audacity to play a victim now? After everything you’ve done, you’re actually asking me that?”
“This is too much.”
“Too much? No! This is too much!” He shoved his hair and the collar of his turtleneck T-shirt aside, pointing at his scar. “What you did to that girl and others is too much.” He released his collar. “But I’m not done yet.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It means you’re not getting off that easy.” He grasped my arm and started dragging me out of the parking lot.
“No, wait! Where are you taking me?”
He remained quiet as he led me down street after street, and a fresh wave of terror crashed over me as I remembered what he’d said earlier.
“First, I’m going to reveal to the world who you really are.”
There was something more he wanted to do.
No.
“What are you going to do? Zach, what are—”
He stopped in front of a tattoo shop, and my blood froze.
“Get inside.”
“What are you planning to do?”
With a growl, he shoved me inside, and I almost tripped over my feet as the scent of green soap hit me.
The place was all red walls and dark furniture with too bright lights, and it was an assault on my senses.
The wild rhythm of the rock song playing from the speakers matched the rhythm of my heart.
“Zach, why—”
A young guy wearing a black uniform with the logo of the tattoo shop stepped out from the back room. He took one look at Zach and me, and a look of understanding passed over his face.
“Hi. You’re here for what we agreed on?” he asked Zach.
“Yes.”
I snapped my gaze between them, Zach’s intention becoming all too clear to me. No, no, no.
I spun on my heel to run away, but Zach was quick. He grabbed my arm and hauled me over to the tattoo chair across the room, shoving me into it. The guy locked the door and flipped the sign to “Closed.”
“No, let me go!” I tried to get up, but Zach pressed his hands against my upper arms to keep me there and leaned in.
“The world knows who you are now, but I want you to know too. To remember it, just the way I remember what you did to me.”
I sucked in a breath, something in me breaking. This was too cruel. The video . . . this. “Please, don’t do this.”
He raised his brows. “Please? You think that will save you?”
My chest constricted hard. “You posted that video. Isn’t that enough?”
“Enough? Didn’t you pay fucking attention?” He motioned at his scar.
I shook my head. “Don’t do this,” I repeated, shifting my gaze to the guy. “I don’t want this!”
He drew the privacy curtain closed behind him, avoiding my gaze. “I’m just doing my job here.”
“Your job?! He’s forcing this on me!”
He glanced at Zach. “As I said, I’m just doing my job.”
“How much did he pay you? I’ll pay you more.”
Zach’s grip tightened on me, a wave of hate blasting off him. “Money won’t save you this time, Blair. This is going to happen.”
My stomach dropped. If money wouldn’t help, it could only mean Zach had something on this guy to make sure he’d carry this out.
The guy snapped on a pair of disposable gloves and grabbed the tattoo gun from his workstation, unpacking it before he took out a fresh needle, his expression emotionless.
I wasn’t going to get any help from him, and my chest started to rise and fall on quick breaths.
This couldn’t be happening. This. Couldn’t. Be. Happening.
“No!” I jerked against Zach. “Let go of me. Let—”
“You don’t have to panic that much. At least the tattoo is not going to be somewhere visible like my scar,” he said in a sardonic tone of voice.
The guy poured black ink into a small cup and settled on the chair beside me. “You want it here?” He looked up at Zach, pointing at a spot below my chest.
“Yes. And make the letters stick out.”
My pulse skyrocketed. The guy unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it aside, exposing my bra and stomach, and nausea gripped me. I felt violated, just like earlier with William.
He cleaned the area beneath my breasts, and using no stencil whatsoever beforehand, he dipped the needle into the ink and brought it to my skin. A burning sting radiated through me, and I jerked, crying out.
“No, stop! Stop!” I pressed myself back as far as I could go, but it did nothing to separate me from Zach’s hands or the tattoo gun, the pain only increasing as the guy pulled a line. “It hurts!”
He stopped to remove the excess ink. “You really should stop moving. It will only make this more painful for you, and your tattoo will be messy.”
“No. Make it as painful for her as possible,” Zach said.
Oh God.
I divided a pleading gaze between them. “Please, stop. This is wrong. So wrong.”
“What you did to me was also wrong. But that didn’t stop you,” Zach said.
“So, I won’t stop either. This is justice, Blair.
An eye for a fucking eye.” There was only raw darkness in his gaze as he looked at me, born of rage and hate, and as the guy returned the needle to my skin, it finally hit me.
This was going to happen. Zach was going to force this on me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Just like with the video.
Something broke deep inside me, and pain, like never before, flared in my heart. Tears flooded my eyes, and I let them fall, the world turning into a haze of agony, violation, and humiliation as the guy continued to tattoo me, Zach’s hands digging painfully into my arms.
I had no idea how many minutes had passed before the buzzing of the tattoo gun finally stopped, the pain below my chest almost unbearable.
I didn’t dare look down to see what the guy had tattooed, but Zach didn’t allow me the reprieve because he took a photo of me with his phone and turned his screen to show it to me. I kept my gaze directed at the floor.
“Go ahead. Check it out. It turned out great.”
“No.”
“I said, check it out.” He caught my chin with his fingers and forced me to look at the photo.
My stomach turned as I saw five bold letters glaring back at me. Trash. That was the tattoo. Almost six inches wide, it spread below my breasts in an angry and offensive display there would be no escaping from. Just like his scar.
I pressed my hand to my mouth, my heart shattering.
Although I’d tried, I’d never forgiven myself for what I’d done.
And yes—part of why I’d allowed him to do everything to me was because I’d felt it was deserved.
Because I thought that if I endured, I would somehow be able to atone for my wrongdoings.
I’d let my guilt and regrets lead me around, allowing Zach to abuse me, but that wasn’t a path to getting justice, and what he’d done today .
. . I’d never be able to forgive him. He’d released that video, exposing my most vulnerable moment for everyone to see and putting a target on my back, and had branded me like cattle with this tattoo.
It was vile and fucked up, and there was no coming back from it.
Monsters breed monsters.
These words had never felt more real than now.
I raised my gaze slowly up to him. “You’re horrible.”
Hate flashed over his face, and his hand tightened around his phone, his knuckles turning white. “I am horrible? No, Blair. This is nothing. You should be happy this is all I did because I could’ve burned your fucking face instead.”
Oh my God. My shoulders jerked with a sob, and I slumped my hand back against my mouth, my limbs going numb.
He leaned in. “Remember it, Blair. You’re nothing but trash.”
The guy applied a tattoo film over the tattoo, and I all but recoiled from his touch.
“Here. Leave this on for a day, and then you can clean your tattoo.”
I didn’t look at him. I buttoned up my shirt and rushed up to my feet, wincing when the tattoo ached at that.
I couldn’t stand to be near Zach a second longer, but I made myself meet his gaze, my hands flexing into trembling fists.
“You think you’re so righteous now? You think this will fix everything?
You’re wrong. But I hope you’re happy now.
I hope this will help you find peace.” I turned and rushed out of the shop, on the verge of breaking apart.
I headed on blindly, my tears clouding my vision. Although it was a warm night, I felt so cold, and I hugged myself with my arms, feeling like I’d left the pieces of my shattered heart in that tattoo shop as well.
And I did.
Because only now have I allowed myself to truly define my feelings for Zach.
I loved him. I’d never stopped loving him. A part of me had always hoped I would be his one day, surviving through all his cruelty. And I’d just irrevocably lost him.
But then again, you could never lose what you never had.
Now if only my heart would get the memo.