Chapter 6 #2
“Well, look what we have here,” Alec sneers as he walks toward me and smacks the books out of my hands. I back away from them, only to stop when my spine hits a tree. “If it isn’t Mother Teresa herself,” he adds mockingly. “Anna-fucking-Maria.”
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice tight.
“What do I want?” Alec repeats, his smirk widening. “Better question is, what are you offering?”
When my confusion shows on my face, they both burst out laughing.
“God, she’s clueless,” Tim bellows with an ominous chuckle. “Bet she’s still a virgin too.”
“How about we find out together?” Alec says, winking at Tim.
“Stop,” I protest as his hand closes around my sleeve.
“Make us, bitch,” Alec replies, his voice low and menacing as he yanks hard enough for the fabric to tear beneath his grip.
My back presses harder into the rough bark of the tree behind me, splinters biting through my blazer.
The sudden rip jolts through me, panic flaring as my body instinctively tries to recoil with nowhere to go.
Fear crashes in, sharp and suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs as my heart pounds wildly in my chest.
“Let me go!” I cry, my voice louder now, breaking as it echoes through the trees.
But they don’t listen. Alec stays close, blocking any chance of escape, while Tim steps in, his hand clutching the front of my cardigan. He yanks at it so hard that buttons tear free and scatter onto the grass at my feet, the sound too loud, too final for my mind to fully process.
I watch in horror as it all begins to sink in. One sleeve of my blazer hangs loose, fabric ripped and useless. My cardigan gapes open where it has been torn apart. My books lie abandoned nearby, pages splayed across the ground like evidence of how quickly everything has gone wrong.
They crowd me from both sides, laughing, filling every inch of space until I can barely breathe.
They’re too close. Too close for me to think. Too close to move. I cannot look down. I cannot scream again. I cannot make my body obey.
“Come on, Blondie. One kiss won’t kill you,” Alec sneers, leaning in so close that I can feel his breath prickle my skin.
Bile rises up my throat as Tim steps back to pick up a stick and drag it along my legs, nudging my skirt higher up my thigh. “Kiss?” he snarls. “The only thing I want her mouth to touch is my junk.”
“I have a better plan,” Alec offers, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Let’s see if her virgin pussy and ass can take us both in.”
They laugh like it is nothing. Like I’m nothing.
My hands curl into fists, nails digging into my palms as I squeeze my eyes shut. My body continues to betray me. I want to run. I want to scream. I want to fight.
I do none of it. I just… freeze. Every muscle locks, fear crushing the air from my lungs. I am aware of everything and nothing all at once. The sound of my own heartbeat roars in my ears, drowning out everything else.
“The hell’s going on here?!”
The loud angry voice slices through the air, followed by the sound of a stick clattering to the ground.
I force my eyes open and see a familiar face running toward us—Frankie, Luciano’s girlfriend.
The same girl who once pulled me into the basement beneath the chapel and saved my phone.
The same girl who stood up for me when my bullies cornered me in eighth grade.
Relief crashes into me so hard my knees nearly give out.
“You wanna play too?” Alec jeers. “Just wait for your turn. We’ll gladly make room for you next.”
“Actually,” Frankie says, her voice tight with fury, “I’d like my turn now.”
I barely have time to register what is happening before Frankie moves. Unlike me, she doesn’t hesitate, even for a second.
Alec sneers at her, still blocking my escape, when Frankie’s hand snaps up and slams hard into his throat.
The sound he makes is awful, strangled, as he clutches at his neck and stumbles back, gasping for air.
Before he can recover, she hits him again, her fist connecting with his jaw.
The impact knocks him sideways, and he goes down in a heap at her feet.
Tim lunges toward her next, fury flashing across his face, but Frankie is faster. She drives her knee up between his legs with brutal precision. He folds instantly, collapsing beside Alec with a groan, both hands clutching himself as he crumples to the ground.
I can barely breathe. I can barely blink. But thankfully, Frankie is in complete control of the situation.
“Come on,” she says before grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the trees, away from the shadows, away from them.
I stumble as she drags me toward open ground, leaving my books and torn clothes scattered behind as if they no longer belonged to me.
I don’t look back. I just run with her, my hand locked in hers, my body shaking as the trees finally fall away behind us.
When I see Marcello’s face, something in me breaks loose. I let go of Frankie and run straight for him, grateful to collapse into the arms of someone who would never hurt me.
I have always known there is evil in the world.
I just never imagined it could wear the face of someone my own age.
Or that I would encounter it here, at Sacred Heart.
I always thought it would come to me in the form of dark hair, cold eyes, and a New York accent. I never imagined it would be a passing classmate, someone I had never even spoken to.
I will not be caught off guard like that again. Next time, I will not freeze.
For the next two days, I lie in my bed and barely leave my room, the memory of what happened at school still clinging to my skin.
I’ve taken more showers in the last sixty-two hours than most people probably take in a week, and still I feel their hands on me.
Their eyes raking over my body like I was nothing more than something to ridicule.
Thankfully, Stella told my overprotective parents that I was sick with stomach cramps, giving them a reason why I’ve been hibernating in my room all weekend.
I wish my sister were as easy to fool. Since the ordeal, she was on my case all Friday night and throughout most of Saturday, demanding to know the names of the boys who assaulted me.
But I will never tell her. And although I managed to get her and my brothers to promise not to say anything to our parents, she, along with Marcello, is still very much a concern.
I know exactly what each of them is capable of.
I cannot have those boys’ deaths on my conscience.
Do they deserve to feel even a fraction of what they put me through? To feel just as powerless and frightened? Of course they do. But I know Stella, and I know Marcello. They would not stop at fear.
These are the moments when I wish my family were different. That I had a sister who was not so eager to exact revenge. That she was someone I could simply be with. Someone who would just hold me and tell me that everything will be okay.
Instead, I have to act strong. Act like the whole incident didn’t shake me to my core. Act like I am fine.
I have to keep up that pretense because the moment they realize just how badly this has hurt me, those boys are as good as dead. And though I would not weep at their funeral, I refuse to have blood spilled in my name. My family already has enough of it on their hands.
The one person I could talk to about this is Raffaele, but I’ve been ignoring his texts, too. I know he’s worried. I know my sudden radio silence is setting off alarms in his head. But I don’t have the strength to lie to him. Not about this.
I want to tell him what happened. I’m just not ready yet.
Explaining it means reliving every disgusting detail.
But worse than that, I would have to explain why I didn’t do anything to defend myself.
Why I didn’t fight back. Why I just froze and stood there.
Why my mind and body betrayed me when I needed them most.
I’ve been living in a constant state of shame and revulsion since it happened, and I don’t know when these feelings will go away.
“Hey, sis,” Stella says cheerfully as she walks into my room, only to stop short when she sees me buttoning my cardigan. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like?” I reply, lowering my eyes from her accusing stare as I keep stuffing my backpack with the textbooks I need for today.
“It looks like you’re getting ready for school.”
“That’s because I am.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No way. You’re not going.”
“I have to go. I can’t miss class.”
“Yes, you can,” she insists fervently. “Everyone does it. Why can’t you?”
Because the one time I ditched class, those boys tried to assault me, I think, but I don’t dare say the words out loud.
“I have to go, Stella. I have an important test today. I can’t skip that.”
“Mom will write you a note.”
“What am I, nine?” I snap, having had enough of this conversation. “I don’t need Mom to write me anything. I’m going to school, and that’s final.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” I say, tears burning the back of my throat.
Stella opens her mouth, clearly ready to argue, when my mother’s voice cuts in from the doorway.
“What’s going on here?” she asks, stepping into the room, her gaze moving between us.
Stella and I never argue, not like this, so it’s only natural that our mother wants to know what’s wrong.
“Annamaria should stay home today,” Stella utters, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s just being too stubborn to do it.”
“Are you still sick?” my mother asks worriedly, rushing toward me to inspect me further. “Should I call a doctor?”
“No, Mom,” I try not to fidget under her worried gaze. “I’m feeling much better now. Well enough to go to school.”
“No, you’re not,” Stella bellows.
Our mother looks between us in confusion, clearly not used to seeing us bicker like this.
“Well, if your sister says she’s fine, then we have to trust her instincts,” she says gently. “If you feel ill later in the day, just text me, and I’ll come pick you up.”