Chapter forty-one
Bexley
The rest of the week goes by without any major hassles. Well, except for Tai freaking out yesterday before the Algebra exam. He turned up early, green in the face, and I had to drag him into a supply cupboard and give his dick CPR before he was calm enough to sit the exam.
It worked, though. I’ve never seen someone bounce into a mathematics room so energetic and lively.
I just have to get through today. One more day of work. One more set of exams. Then that’s it. All over, red rover.
To celebrate, we’re all heading to the warehouse tonight to fight and drink—in that order. We’re responsible graduands, after all.
Surprisingly, Elliott has been avoiding me all week at work. Except for the occasional work-related comment, and standard hello and goodbye, he barely acknowledges my existence.
Jessa has been the same, unfortunately. And I suspect Hazel was told something too because she’s been a little less warm the past few days. But I consider it a win.
I can handle the judgmental glares and cold shoulders if it means I don’t have to quit and start all over again.
Glancing over at the clock, I’m happy to see it’s time to finish. Heading into the staff area, I quickly slip my uniform off and change into my Cedar Heights jersey.
We have the Graphic Design exam this morning, and I’m excited to see all three guys since we share the class. We had a late night study sesh at Archie’s yesterday, and I’m feeling oddly confident. Definitely better than I felt about Gym.
“See ya,” I say, waving at Jessa. She lifts her head to find me, returning a curt nod before finding interest in the cash register.
I don’t let it sour my mood, shrugging it off as I slip out the door and start walking down the alleyway toward the staff parking spots.
Pulling out my phone, I start typing a text to Ry. The coffee buzz has got me thinking about the Lawless Dragons concert, and I need to tell him my brilliant theory.
I’m nearly at my truck when my feet slow, a rush of sudden unease hitting me. I scan the empty parking lot, mentally cursing myself for my stupidity. Clearly, the lack of sleep is starting to get to me. I’ve been seeing shadows all week, getting jumpy over the smallest things.
All I know is tomorrow I am going to have the best damn sleep of my life and I cannot wait.
Something moves out of the corner of my eye, and I almost dismiss it, but check anyway, grinding to a halt when, this time, there is someone actually there.
“Elliott,” I mutter, eyeing the tall, slender man. “I didn’t realize you were finishing early today as well.”
He grins, cigarette between his fingers. Taking a drag, he nods. “I have plans today,” he says, exhaling smoke. “Exciting ones.”
“Great,” I answer monotonously. “Well, have a nice weekend.”
Elliott tosses the butt on the ground, crunching it under his shoe. He steps into my direct pathway, blocking me from my truck. “What are your plans?”
I still, desperately wishing I could ignore the alarm bells that start going off in my head. This asshole has given me the silent treatment all week, and now all of a sudden, he’s acting normal again?
Something doesn’t sit right with me, so I slip my phone back in my pocket to keep my hands free if necessary.
“Final exams,” I confirm. “So, I better go. I don’t want to miss them.”
I’m trying to be as polite as possible, but when he follows my movements, blocking me again as I try to go around, my patience begins to diminish.
Elliott smiles. “Why the rush? We should talk.”
I take a step back, creating distance between us. “Look—we can talk next week if you like. But I really need to go. I can’t be late.”
He mimics me again, stepping closer until I’m forced to walk backwards. “You shouldn’t rush, Bexley. It’s dangerous.”
Dangerous. That sums up how I feel about the situation right now.
“It’s a short drive,” I snap back, losing my cool. “Not an interstate road trip. I’ll be fine.”
Elliott holds up his hands in a stop motion. “Yeah. But even short drives can involve accidents.”
A chill runs through my body. “What did you say?” I ask quietly.
His eyebrows shoot up, mouth forming a little amused O shape. “Oh, that was meant to be an inside thought,” he chuckles. “Whoops.”
The alarm bells are full-on emergency sirens now, goosebumps rising along my arms as his smirk widens. “It’s clicking now. Isn’t it?”
I shake my head slowly. “Elliott, get out of my way and let me go to my truck.”
He lets out a dramatic little sigh, peeling the collar of his shirt back to reveal the bruise again. “It’s healing nicely,” he mumbles. “The perfect shade of yellow. God—seatbelts are a real bitch.”
“You’re the one who hit Ry,” I blurt out.
Elliott drags one of his slimy thin fingers along the bruise, snickering. “Ahh, damn. You caught me.”
“What the fuck?” I splutter angrily. “Why?”
“Business,” he answers simply. “It’s nothing personal. Though, I do enjoy it.” Elliott pauses, looking fondly at the bruise. “Do you know what this color reminds me of?”
“You’re messed up,” I growl.
He lets go of the shirt, straightening up. “It reminds me of you. Shame it’s going to fade. I really want it to stay this color.” Groaning deeply, his eyes roll back as he bites his bottom lip. “It smelled so good, didn’t it?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and to be truthfully honest, I don’t want to.
All I know is I need to get out of here—now. But unless this psycho has a change of heart in the next sixty seconds, the only way I’m going to get to my car is by going through him.
I’m going to have to fight him.
“This is your last chance,” I warn. “Get out of my way, Elliott.”
His grin drops, looking wounded. “Can I see them? Oh, pretty please. I want to see them.”
“See what?” I snarl.
“The scars, silly.”
A shiver rolls through me, pure, unfiltered terror hitting that I haven’t felt since… that night.
Elliott’s gaze drifts down my body, making my stomach churn. His eyes widen excitedly as he spots the pink scars poking out from under my Willowbrook skirt. Slowly, he finds my face again, voice dropping low. “I really wish I could have smelled your flesh burning. Tell me—did you scream for me?”
I don’t answer. I can only watch in disbelief and terror as Elliott reaches into the pocket of his sweatpants, extracting a knife. Sunlight hits the shiny blade as he curls his fist around the handle, taking a step forward.
Okay—plan B. I’m not stupid enough to try to fight a knife. De-escalation hasn’t worked, and fighting is now out of the equation. So, I do the only thing left.
I turn and run.
My heart pounds as his footsteps give chase down the alleyway. I just need to get back to the main street or the coffee shop. Anywhere public to escape this lunatic.
A yelp explodes from my mouth as I’m crash tackled from behind, slamming into the concrete ground painfully.
Quickly, I try to spin around to free my arms, throwing them blindly in his direction as I twist. I manage to connect with the side of his head, Elliott letting out a pained grunt and toppling off my body.
The knife clatters on the ground and I make an attempt at diving for it, fingers brushing the handle as I try to snatch it up. Before I can wrap my hand around, my head is ripped back fast, Elliott’s dirty fingers digging into my scalp as he yanks my hair hard.
The force flattens me on the ground, air whooshing out of my lungs. I manage to break my fall with my elbow, a sharp sting and throb making me whine. Blood drizzles down my forearm from the broken skin, but there’s no time to assess the injury as Elliott jumps back on top of me.
“You’re feisty,” he points out, cackling before adding in a sing-song tone. “Now I see why everyone is obsessed with you.”
He straddles my thighs, reaching for my arms. I throw a punch as best as I can from this angle, knuckles smashing into his cheek. Elliott just laughs harder, maniacally, while grabbing my wrists painfully and slamming them above my head.
I let out a pained cry from the awkward angle he’s holding me in, body screaming like my elbow and shoulder joints are on the verge of dislocating.
“Sshh,” he whispers, a demented look washing over his features as he leans forward. “You’re being a little loud, baby girl.”
“Don’t fucking call me that!” I shout, taking a quick, deep breath. “Help!”
Smack.
My head whips sideways as Elliott backhands me across the face, not holding back. Little flashes of light explode behind my eyes as my vision swims for a few seconds, nausea threatening to bring up my coffee.
I quickly shake it off, no stranger to taking face hits thanks to all of the cage fights. I lurch into immediate action, throwing my upper half toward him with all my strength, attempting to put him off balance. It works, his hands releasing my wrists as he flails, searching for stability.
I follow it with another punch, this time straight into his nose. Relief floods through me at the sound of the loud crack that follows, blood spurting down his face.
He’s still on top of me, further down my legs, and I crawl backwards, ignoring the sharp shooting pain in my hands as I try to get free.
Elliott propels forward, chest smashing into mine which causes my arms to give out. The back of my head makes a cracking noise as it slams into the ground, and I freeze completely, the feel of cool metal pressing against my throat.
“You’re being a little difficult, Bexley,” he tsks disapprovingly before a creepy grin spreads back over his face. “It’s turning me on a little.”
He rocks his hips to illustrate, and I choke back a sob when his stiff erection rubs against my crotch suggestively.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I spit out, voice breaking.
Elliott drags the blade slowly across my neck, applying a tiny amount of pressure. It’s not enough to slice the skin open, but it burns, threatening to split with sickly promise.
He creeps forward, holding the blade steady against my throat. Letting out a breathy groan on my cheek, he grinds his pelvis into me. “I wish I could keep you,” he purrs before running his tongue up the side of my face. “I just can’t afford their asking price.”
Vomit rises up my esophagus. “What are you talking about?” I ask shakily, panic-stricken.
He hums thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s still a little time to break in the goods,” he whispers to himself psychotically, placing his hand on my breast and groping me hard.
A sob finally claws its way out of my soul, but he halts suddenly, huffing in annoyance as something catches his attention. He lifts his head, the blade easing slightly against my throat, as gravel crunches down the alleyway with the sound of an approaching car.
Please help me.
I scrunch my eyes shut, silently pleading that whoever it is will help me. When a car door opens and footsteps begin walking over, I dare a glance.
A shadow falls across us, and my heart beats rapidly in relief at the sight of the familiar face, a tear rolling down the side of my cheek as I let out a shaky breath.
I’m going to be okay. He’ll save me.
“What did you do to her?” He asks, shooting Elliott an irked glare.
My entire body suddenly turns to ice, paralyzed with a whole new fear. I’m blindsided by the question because while his tone is full of irritation, there’s not a single ounce of compassion or care laced in it toward me.
By one of the few people I believed, without a doubt, would always protect me no matter what.
Elliott chuckles low, giving me a menacing grin. “She’s a bit of a handful. Wouldn’t come quietly at all.”
“I told you to be quick,” he snaps agitatedly, opening his jacket and reaching inside the interior pocket to grab something. Retrieving a cloth, he leans down next to my head, locking eyes with me.
“Bexley.”
“Principal Samson,” I croak. “What’s going on?”
His eyebrows furrow at the question but he doesn’t answer me. His gaze flickers back to Elliott, hardening. “I’ll take her from here,” he orders.
Looking at me with a blank, heartless expression, I let out a small, broken sob, struggling under Elliott as Principal Samson presses the cloth over my mouth and nose.
Fuck the knife. I’d rather die than let them take me.
I start twisting and jerking my body violently to get them away but Elliott pushes and holds the blade firmly against my throat, sending a sharp pain shooting through me. He slams his other hand down on top of my chest, pinning me to the ground.
The impact to my sternum sends me wheezing and gasping, and already desperate for air, I inhale.
I know what’s coming instantly, terror taking over every fiber of my body as the sickly sweet scent of something similar to acetone rushes through my lungs.
Waves of dizziness crash uncontrollably through me, my world spinning fast out of control. My movements start to slow, body going limp as my eyes roll toward the back of my head.
“Put her in my trunk. Make sure to discard her phone and truck as planned,” I hear Principal Samson say in a distorted, robotic voice.
“Alrighty!” Elliott’s cheery reply is garbled, sounding miles away. “I’ll meet you in the tunnel for my payment when I’m done.”