26. Juliet
JULIET
“ Y ou know,” I say casually as I scroll through a cell phone that isn’t mine, “in some parts of the world, a woman that commits adultery is stoned to death as punishment.”
Three hours after I set Gio on his task and I’m sitting on a wooden log in the middle of the woods, my ass numb and cold, but my soul warm and happy as I watch Megan White slowly rise back to consciousness.
She doesn’t initially respond to my comment—which is kind of rude.
Considering she’s still blinking around, her eyes blurry, and smacking her lips like something dry has crawled up in her mouth and died, I let the inconsideration go.
She’s still coming out of the haze from the drugs I dropped into the drink.
I give it another fifteen minutes, humming to myself as I take screenshot after screenshot of the messages I’m finding.
When I get to one particularly gnarly insult against Lindsey, I release a low whistle and screenshot that one too.
Bored of the silence and ready to get this show on the road, I look up as Megan starts to whimper and gasp.
“You know, I’ve never taken a nude,” I tell her. “You’d think everyone in high school has—but nope. Not even once. I don’t trust anyone.” With good reason.
“What the fuck?” Megan screams as she struggles in her unorthodox prison.
Hopping off the stump, I drift the two feet or so to where her head pokes out of the ground, the rest of her encased in a massive mound of dirt that Lex had dug up for me yesterday afternoon.
Thankfully, despite the coldness of winter creeping in—the ground hadn’t been too tough for him to dig just far enough down to put the bitch that thought coming after me was a smart idea.
“I-I can’t feel my hands!” Megan shrieks. “My legs! I can’t feel my legs!”
I roll my eyes. “They’re still there,” I assure her. “A little numb, probably—what with all of the dirt and the drugs—but I didn’t cut anything off.” I pause and then grin. “Well, none of your limbs anyway.”
Turning back, I bend and lift the sable brown ponytail that I’d joyfully hacked off after burying her in the hole in the ground made specifically for her.
“Oh my god!” Megan’s voice grows louder. “You fucking psycho! What did you do?”
Pulling the tie holding her hair together, I let it rain down over her face. She sputters and coughs, jerking her neck right and left as if she can avoid the pieces.
Then, I go to my haunches, getting as close to eye level with her as I can without actually sitting on the ground. It’s not easy when she’s buried up to her throat.
“I decided to play your game,” I tell her matter-of-factly.
“W-what?” she stutters, gaping up at me—looking so ridiculous as nothing but a pale face and short choppy pieces of hair sticking out from every side of her skull. She kind of reminds me of a wet lollipop that fell on the carpet. “I-I feel air on the back of my—is that my fucking hair?”
“ Yup ,” I smirk as I let the end of the syllable pop off my tongue.
“You… cut my hair off?”
I nod. “And buried you alive,” I add. “Cool revenge, right?”
Megan’s expression goes slack. “The drink…” She starts putting the truth together. “Gio gave me a beer and said he wanted to talk…”
“You probably did have a conversation,” I offer. “Though I don’t know what you talked about.”
“I can’t… remember,” she says.
“Must not have been all that important then.”
Her eyes land on the cell phone in my hand. “Is that my phone?” she demands, her struggles continuing as she fights the press of earth all around her body. “How did you get that?”
I shrug and look back at the screen, smiling when I realize the messages I’d started sending before she woke already have a few responses.
“You gave it to me,” I say casually, swiping over to some of the nudes I found when scouring the thing while waiting for her to wake.
I post a few to her stories and then text them to both of her parents.
The thin black gloves that Lex gave me for this works like a charm—allowing me the ease of using the touch screen without leaving my fingerprints behind. Just in case.
“I never?—”
“Well, you were kind of drunk—or drugged—but you didn’t exactly say no when I took it,” I say, cutting her off as I hit send and return my attention to the woman in front of me.
“Y-you—you can’t do this! This is— You’re crazy!”
Her face is red and splotchy as she struggles, fighting her burial.
Seconds pass into minutes as I watch her endeavors.
It gets old pretty fast and only grows interesting again when she starts crying.
A few tears here and there along with some cursing, then harder as she realizes the truth—she’s not getting out that easily.
There’d be no point to this revenge if it were easy for her to escape.
When it becomes clear that her simple freedom is well and truly gone, that’s when the real waterworks start. Snot bubbles in one nostril as she sobs and starts to beg.
“Please.” She coughs, shaking her head, twisting her neck. “Please—just let me out. I can’t— Oh my god, I can’t die like this.”
I sigh. “You’re not going to die,” I say, annoyed, before in a quieter mutter, I add, “I promised no murder.”
Megan screams. “Help! Someone! Help me! Lindsey! Lindsey, can you hear me!”
I let her do it for a little bit longer, her voice going hoarse the longer she screams and yells. When she has to stop to catch her breath, I look down at her and wait. She gags, sucking in air.
“Did you really think I’d bury you close to people?” I ask. “How stupid do you think I am? You do know that I have straight A’ s, right?” I shake my head.
“Oh my god,” she mutters. “Oh my god.”
A cramp forms in my calves, forcing me to stand back to my full height. I stretch onto my toes, relishing the extension of my muscles—a privilege she’ll struggle with for a while too.
“Y-you can’t keep me here— I-I— This is kidnapping!” Megan’s blubbering continues, but I ignore her in favor of the multitude of messages streaming into her phone.
LINDSEY: WTF MEG? Why did you post that?
I’m not sure which post Lindsey’s referring to considering I’ve made several posts over the last couple of hours.
MEGAN: Which post?
LINDSEY: Which post?! THE ONE WHERE I’M MAKING OUT WITH JEREMY DODGES! My dad’s going to kill me!
Almost as soon as Lindsey’s text comes through, she calls. I swipe red, not allowing it to finish its first ring. She calls a second time and I do the same.
“What else do we have in here?” I ask aloud as I scroll and scroll and— “Oh this is an interesting chat.” I stop as I come across a gold mine of information.
“What are you doing?” Megan shrieks. “You can’t— Ugh! Let me out!” The scream of frustration that echoes behind me is like music to my ears as I continue typing out replies.
“I’m just moving the pieces,” I tell her, turning back as I finish sending the next text to someone named Matthew.
I hold up Megan’s phone and shake it in her direction.
“You’re a naughty girl with so many boyfriends—I’m not one to judge, but well, you started it.
” I tap my chin with a fingertip. “It does make me wonder why you were so hell-bent on getting Gio too.”
Megan’s responding shrieks and grunts echo up to the treetops.
I let it continue on as the phone in my hand buzzes nonstop.
Phone calls. Text messages. When I get bored of watching her struggle and fight against the ground, crying and red-faced as she screams again, calling for help, I look down to see that there’s a new voicemail from an unknown number.
Lifting the phone to my ear, I press play. Two seconds in and I know it’s going to be good. I put it on speaker and hold it out.
“Someone wants to have a word with you, Megan,” I taunt, going back to my haunches.
Megan snarls at me, but then she hears an older woman’s voice.
“Ahem, this phone call is for Megan White?” The woman sounds unsure, pausing with a light question to her tone before she continues.
“This is Maria Delton from St. Trinity University. We’ve received some unsettling information regarding your application.
It’s our policy to only allow students that can uphold the moral code of our institution.
Therefore, I’m afraid we have to withdraw our offer of tuition coverage and also your acceptance to St. Trinity.
We wish you the best in your future endeavors. ”
The voicemail ends and silence reigns. It extends so long that, for a moment, I wonder if Megan’s passed out, but no. She’s awake. Staring at the phone in my hand and then the ground.
I watch her and the smile that I’ve held for the last several hours goes flat.
It’s an act anyway, a part of the part I’m meant to play.
This is simply what happens when someone goes after a beast much bigger and scarier than themselves.
Just because I don’t wear the skin of a monster at all times doesn’t mean I don’t know how to be one.
Tilting my head, I stare at the pale, dirt-smudged face of Megan White. After several more minutes of silence, she croaks out one word.
“Why?”
“Why?” I repeat the word, the question. “Why what, Megan?”
Why did I drug her? Bury her? Ruin her? I wait for her to respond, to elaborate.
She doesn’t. If she had the ability to use her hands, I have no doubt she’d be covering her face with them as she cries now.
These tears aren’t big or dramatic. They’re quieter, silent, as they cascade down her cheeks in clean tracks that smear the grime on her skin.
Burying someone physically is not nearly as satisfying as burying them metaphorically. For someone like Megan, her reputation, her future, her friends—that’s all she has. Her pride doesn’t stem from her family name or money, but from what she could be.
Now, she’s nothing, and I’m not even done.
I walk over to the stump I’d vacated earlier and reach for the bag behind it.
Megan continues to cry quietly, the outline of her head illuminated by both the moon and the lantern Lex had left hanging on a low branch nearby.
Using that light source, I delve into the contents of the bag and pull out a bottle of raw honey.
The bottle is heavy in my hand as I turn back to my victim. Uncapping it, I peel away the plastic barrier and leave the lid off before tipping it upside down.
Megan doesn’t notice until a large dollop lands right on her forehead and slides down the bridge of her nose.
Sputtering, she shakes her head back and forth, causing the honey to drip onto her cheeks and stick to the uneven strands of her hair still plastered to her skin and temples.
“W-what are you— Ah!”
Bending closer, I shake the bottle and drip more of the thick liquid, covering her head and her nape.
I squeeze as she yells at me to stop. When it doesn’t come out fast enough, I shove my glove-covered fingers inside and then use them to smear the honey all over her cheeks and chin.
I drench her in the stuff and when I’m finally satisfied that every inch of her visible skin is covered, I step back and pick the bottle up from where I dropped it next to her.
“What the hell are you doing!”
Megan begins to scream again—either the shock of everything is wearing off or her anger is taking back control.
Regardless, I don’t answer her as I squeeze the last of the honey from the bottle, drawing a thick line from where her head juts out of the cold, packed earth and to the rather large fire ant mound a few feet away.
The now empty bottle goes back inside the bag, as do my honey-covered gloves and the lid. Megan’s phone is left, face up, on the stump. All of the information in it has already been copied, downloaded, and sent to Lex’s backup computer, so it’s no longer needed.
“You know,” I say as I stand over the undestroyed curve of the fire ant mound, contemplative as I stare at the smooth lump of dirt. “Too many people think that the best revenge is to live a better life.” I look up, meeting Megan’s eyes. “I’ve always had the better life, though. Rich or poor.”
Megan spits something out of her mouth and glares back at me.
“I’ll give you one last warning,” I offer, holding up a single finger.
“Just one—if you want to play war games with me, don’t ever mistake me for a pawn because at the end of the day, I am always the queen player.
You will lose.” Cold ice fills my veins, my voice even and frosted over. “Every. Single. Time.”
I lift my leg and bring my booted foot down straight in the center of the fire ant mound. Then, for good measure, I kick down on either side of the remaining hill, smoothing and flattening it out as hundreds upon hundreds of creeping black bugs burst forth from the ground.
“No!” Megan’s eyes bulge when she realizes what I’ve planned all along. “No! Please! I’m allergic to those! I can’t—I can’t?—”
“I know,” I say, interrupting her panicked words. “It was in your school file.” The same one that Lex had easily hacked into. “But don’t worry, your allergy isn’t fatal. Even with this many, they’ll only leave scars… probably.”
Once they’re done with the honey they’ll be drawn to, the sugar thick on the ground and all over her face and remaining hair, the small venom-covered bites along with her mild allergy will leave her with an everlasting reminder.
“Take my advice,” I warn her, taking a step back and letting the bag dangle from my wrist as I reach for the shovel that I’d used to bury her earlier and hoisting it over my shoulder. “The next time you think you can fuck with me, I’ll do more than kill your future. I’ll end your fucking life.”
Twenty minutes later, as I find the trail that leads back to the back of Lex’s aunt’s property—one that I’d walked with Lex during the two weeks I’d had out of school—her screams reach a new crescendo.
Hopefully, she realizes soon that the dirt surrounding her isn’t as packed tight as she originally thought.
I’d promised Nolan no murder and I’d meant it.
I predict she’ll be out by morning, but my warning will remain behind, bitten into her flesh over and over again—a permanent reminder that beauty is easy to destroy, but I never will be.