Курок Дуглас Пенелопа

“Hello?” I demanded. “Hello! Anybody there? I need help!”

I followed the path of the lockers, trailing down the right side of the hallway. When I came to the end, I rounded the corner and pawed the wall until another row of lockers began.

Okay, okay, okay… If I followed this, and kept going straight, it should lead me to the doors leading to the front of the school.

“Hello?” I called again.

My hands shook.

I should’ve told Rika to come back for me. Why was I so stubborn? Even if she was forced to exit the building by the teachers, she would’ve known to tell them that I was in the library waiting for her, and they would’ve sent someone to get me.

“Hello?”

Then, all of a sudden, there was a pounding on the lockers ahead.

I paused for a split-second, listening.

“Hey,” I said to whoever was down there. “Can you help me? Is everyone outside? Can you help me get out?”

But there was no answer.

The sound happened again. Bang, bang, bang… on the lockers, and I narrowed my eyes, confused.

“Can you help me?” I shot out, trailing down the lockers faster. “Please, can you…”

My hands landed on a tall body with a broad chest in a collared shirt, and I jerked back.

It was a man, but I thought I felt a tie hanging around his neck. A student?

“Is there a fire?” I asked him. “What’s going on?”

But whoever it was didn’t say anything. Were we the only ones in the building?

I opened my mouth to speak, but his hand came up, tucking my hair behind my ear.

There was no way I’d be the victim of two weird guys in such a short time.

I cocked my head. “Is that you?” I demanded.

My ghost who liked to scare me?

I lost my patience. “So help me God, I’m going to—”

He slipped his arms underneath mine, wrapping them around me, and picked me up off my feet.

“Going to what?” he asked.

And I stopped breathing. It wasn’t the whisper I was used to hearing but the deep, loaded, and menacing tone I never wanted to be alone with again.

Ever.

I gulped, feeling Damon’s arms tighten around me. “You’re not him.”

“Him who?”

“L—Let me go,” I stammered but didn’t have time to scream.

He whipped us around, carrying me away, and I pushed at his body to get away.

A door opened, then closed, and I was forced back into the room, my combat boot hitting something on wheels. A bucket, I think. We must be in a closet.

My mind raced. The bucket would have a mop. That was a weapon.

“You did this?” I asked, realization finally hitting me. The alarm. He and I alone in the school. Did he see Rika leave me alone in the library?

“What do you want?” I yelled and then shouted at the top of my lungs, “Help!” I sucked in another breath. “Help!”

His hand found my throat, and I was pinned to the wall. I grabbed his wrist, fighting to pull it off.

“What do you want?” I struggled to speak, rage coursing through my veins.

His body came in close as he spoke down to me. “Are you scared?”

I shifted on my feet, struggling with his hand on my neck. “No,” I gritted out.

“Liar.”

“Fuck you!” I fired back. “Let me out!”

I kicked at his leg, but he didn’t budge. I kicked him again, harder, and twisted my body out of his grasp, finally feeling him lose his hold. I ran for it, but he grabbed hold of my necktie and yanked me back to him.

My body slammed into his. “Let me out!” I screamed again. “My sister is ready for you. Always ready for you. Why don’t you bring her in here?”

He picked me up again, this time wrapping his arms around me like a steel band, my arms pinned to my body under his tight hold.

“Why bother with her when there’s you?” he taunted. “I like you.”

I shook my head at him. He was horrible. And disgusting and sick, and I hated that I had his attention. I wished he’d never laid eyes on me. Was this it then? Was he going to hurt me again? It wouldn’t be like last time. I was old enough to know how men hurt women now.

“You know, a lot of girls would love to be in your position right now,” he told me.

“Yeah, I’m guessing you didn’t almost kill them once upon a time.”

“Do you want me to apologize?”

I hesitated, because his tone actually gave the impression he would apologize if I asked him to. “No,” I finally answered.

“Why?”

“Because I won’t forgive you anyway,” I said.

No need to waste your time.

He held me, his chest moving with mine, and I could feel his eyes on my face. He didn’t speak for several seconds.

When he did, it sounded almost sad. “Winter…”

But whatever he wanted to say, he didn’t finish, and I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to spend another six years recovering from anything he did to me. Another scratch, and I’d kill him to make sure he never touched me again.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll hurt you?” he asked, his tone threatening again.

I replied calmly. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because black.”

“Black?” he pressed.

I inched in, getting in his face. “Because I’m in the black right now, and here… I think I enjoy myself,” I said, remembering last night and the freedom of risking and fighting and meeting your match. I wanted that life. “The only part of me anyone can ever hurt is my heart, and there’s no one on the planet my heart is more out of reach from than you,” I growled.

He jostled me in his arms, and I could hear him breathing through his teeth.

“Big words for such a little girl,” he said.

“Same old, same old, from the same, scared little boy,” I shot back. “Still climbing into fountains to hide from Mommy?”

“Mommy?” he repeated. “I killed that bitch last night.”

I faltered, unnerved he would say something so odd. Of course, he was just talking shit. I’d heard his mother, Madame Delova, left Thunder Bay a few years ago and never returned.

What the hell was the matter with him? Did he want my father putting a restraining order on him? I hated Damon Torrance, but even I didn’t want that. It would just make my parents worry to learn I was having problems with him at school, and Thunder Bay would be like being in a frying pan if I got one of the school’s star players in trouble. Everyone would see it as my fault.

“Let me go,” I told him. “Let me go or I’ll bite.”

“Exactly what I had in mind.”

What? Why would he want me to bite him?

“Let me go,” I said.

He didn’t budge.

“Let. Me. Go.”

Nothing.

Diving in, I sank my teeth into his jaw, hearing him let out a chuckle, and bit down harder to shut him the hell up.

Asshole.

I couldn’t reach much, given my position, otherwise I’d go for his ear and tear it off, but I clamped down on his bone, my teeth digging into the skin.

Harder. I increased the pressure. Harder.

He froze, just standing there, and when his breathing became raspy, I knew he was about to tap out and let me go. It had to hurt.

But instead of freeing me, he stuttered, “Har—Harder.”

Rage twisted my face, and I bit down as hard as I could, my teeth aching in my jaw, and I heard him pant and gasp, and then his arms fell, and I was free. I fell to the ground and pushed him away, knocking him in the nose.

He grunted and stumbled, because I heard the shuffle of buckets and brooms.

“Next time, I’ll be armed. And I’ll kill you,” I told him.

I began to walk away, and I heard his voice behind me. “You might have to.”

I stopped for a second, feeling defeated. Why? Why would I have to? Would he not stop? What did he want?

“Would you have forgiven me…” he asked, “if I’d gone over the side of the treehouse with you that day?”

I stood there, tears burning the backs of my eyes.

I didn’t know how to answer. I searched my brain. Why did that question strike me like it did? It seemed almost vulnerable. It was the first moment since I’d started school here that he hadn’t acted like an asshole.

Would I have forgiven him if he’d been hurt, too? I could’ve died that day. I could’ve been hurt a lot worse than I was now. My neck could’ve broke. I could’ve wound up in a coma for the rest of my life.

And he could’ve gone over with me and been hurt and killed, too. What would be my thoughts about him now if that had happened? Would I be more forgiving?

Maybe.

I thought about it.

Yes. I would’ve said ‘kids are kids’ and ‘bad things happen’. Children weren’t mature enough to control themselves. I would’ve tried to understand.

But even if I didn’t hate what he’d done to me all those years ago, I still hated him because of who he was now. Boys grew up. He hadn’t.

“I should’ve known it was you,” someone suddenly growled and I finally registered that the door to the closet had swung open.

I sucked in a breath and straightened as people barreled in, someone taking my hand and leading me out.

Five minutes later we were in the dean’s office, a loud slap piercing the air.

“She is a freshman!” Dean Kincaid bellowed at Damon. “Do you have any shame?”

I stood there, my hands locked behind my back as Damon and I stood a few feet apart in front of Kincaid’s desk.

Damon coughed and sniffled next to me. “I think she hurt me more than I hurt her,” he said, his breathing labored. “I’m bleeding like a stuck pig. You might just might be my type, girl.”

He laughed, and I ground my teeth together. I hadn’t realized I’d bit his jaw that hard. Or maybe it was from when I hit his nose.

Either way, good.

“You’re expelled,” Kincaid bit out, his tone clipped. “I don’t care what your father threatens me with. We’re going to end up on the goddamn national news because of you!”

“Expel me?” Damon challenged. “The alumni will love that. And perfect timing, too. Your contract is up for review. Wait till they hear you don’t like winning basketball games.”

Something slammed on the desktop in front of us, and I jumped.

I closed my eyes, exasperated. Oh, my God. He was a piece of work. And he was going to win, too. Kincaid wasn’t going to expel him. Not with wealthy, connected alumni caring more about athletics than they did education.

Wait until Damon actually grew up and realized the whole world wasn’t going to bend over for him forever.

It was only a matter of time for me, though. Before he’d be too much to take, and something would have to be done. Dealing with all the anger and attitude in the school for getting him expelled or taking myself and going back to Montreal. I didn’t want to leave. That would be a sure way never to see him again. The ghost. Whoever he was.

But life here would be intolerable if Damon backed me into a corner and I had to fight back. No one would be on my side.

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. “Don’t bother, Mr. Kincaid,” I muttered. “I’m leaving the school.”

“The fuck you are,” Damon growled. And then to Mr. Kincaid, “It was just a disagreement. I’ll leave her alone. You have my word.”

“Your word…” he mocked.

“I don’t lie,” Damon said, anger hardening his voice. “She’ll be fine. I swear. I won’t even look at her for the rest of the year, as long as I’m at this school and under your care. I promise.” He evened out his tone. “The basketball team goes on, she can stay, and we’ll pretend this never happened. Her father doesn’t have to know.” And then to me, “Right?”

I hardened my jaw, standing there and not giving him an ounce of my attention. Was he telling the truth? Could he stay out of my way?

Because I was desperate to stay.

“I will leave her alone,” Damon reiterated again when the dean remained silent.

“Sir,” a woman called behind us.

“Don’t move,” Kincaid told us, and I heard him walk past us and step onto the stones of the main office. The door stayed open, and I could hear voices out there.

And then I felt him next to me, his warm breath just above my ear.

“Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Winter Ashby, because we’re not done,” Damon warned in a low voice that snaked through my ear, taunting me. “Grow up, learn things, and have fun in high school, but don’t change the little girl who loves it ‘in the black’, because I like you there, too. And I will be back for what’s mine when you’re old enough for bigger things.”

I turned my face away, breathing harder.

“And be good,” he told me. “If I hear anyone touched you, I will crack his fucking skull.”

My mouth went dry, my stomach rolling as the voices outside grew closer, and then his heat was gone as he put space between us and Kincaid walked back into the room.

Damn him.

The meeting ended, Kincaid doling out harsh words for Damon but accepting his terms and promising to hold him to it. The dean didn’t trust him or like him, but the politics of Thunder Bay society would win over a man who feared for his job and position. He was an educator second and an employee of every parent in this town first.

Someone from the office got me and guided me to my next class, everyone now back inside after the false alarm, and as I walked out of the main office, turning right as Damon went left, I wondered how long I had and how many notches up he would take his behavior when we met again.

Because it wasn’t over.

He was just waiting.

 

 

 

Winter

 

Present

 

I blinked my eyes, waking up, and immediately winced as I rolled off my side and onto my back. Shit. Pain shot through the left side of my neck, and I bent it, trying to stretch it out. I didn’t think I moved all night. My whole body was kinked up. I never slept that deep.

Sitting up, I slid my legs over the side of the bed, rolling my neck and ankles before stretching my toes to a point.

“Ugh,” I groaned.

I was exhausted. I rubbed my eyes, feeling that they were a little swollen and achy.

Then it came back to me. The dance at Michael and Erika’s engagement party last night. Damon and me. Damon trying to taunt me with what he was going to enjoy with my sister.

I’d cried. A lot.

I’d come to bed, locked my door, and sobbed into my pillow, because I couldn’t stop myself, and I didn’t want to be heard.

I hated him. I hated his vile words and his cigarettes and his arrogance and insanity in thinking he wasn’t responsible for anything. I hated how he grabbed and threatened and wouldn’t let me go. He had no right.

And I hated that I’d missed him. I hated that so fucking much.

How I still felt the parts about him I loved when I didn’t know it was him I was with. How his arms around me still felt protective and how his whispers reminded me of when I loved the feel of them all over my neck.

I shook my head. It was an act. It had all been an act. He’d used me.

I stood up and closed my eyes, stretching my arms over my head to wake up my body.

A light rain tapped my window, and I inhaled, smelling it seeping into the house as I tried to clear my head. Coffee first.

A creak sounded above me, and I tipped my head back, training my ears on the sound. Who would be in the attic? No one went up there except servants, and we no longer had any of those. Full time ones, anyway.

Stepping over to my chaise, I picked up the sweater laying on it and pulled it on, rubbing my arms against the chill. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and removed my chair lodged under my doorknob before unlocking my bedroom door and swinging it open. Not that anything would stop Damon from getting into this room if he wanted, but at least it would take more than one kick and give me a warning bell of sorts when I was dead asleep at night.

I stepped into the hallway, the cool wood under my feet creaking as I yawned.

So quiet.

I stood there, hearing the rain outside create a shield of white noise around the house, and somewhere, deep in the house, a breeze whistled through a cracked window or wall. A chickadee sang in the distance, every little sound amplified, because there was nothing else drowning them out. No noise.

No television. No hair dryer. No shower running.

No footsteps or dishes clattering or doors opening and closing.

“Hey, Google,” I called back into my room. “What time is it?”

“The time is seven-oh-three a.m.”

We were early risers. My mom and Arion worked out in the morning, while I got plenty of exercise dancing.

But we’d been to a party last night. Maybe they were sleeping in?

Or maybe not. Something felt off.

Why hadn’t they intervened in my fight with Damon last night? They had to have heard it.

“Mom?” I called out over the railing. She was normally already up and moving around the house when I woke up. “Mom, are you up?”

Nothing.

Grazing the railing, I trailed down the hall and into my mother’s room first, cracking open the door. “Mom?” I said lightly, afraid to startle her out of her sleep.

There was no response.

I inched into the room and found my way to her bed, running my hands across the smooth, cold comforter. The bed was still made. Or had she already made it up after rising?

Walking over to where her vanity sat, I found the lamp and touched the bulb, tapping it and then holding it when I realized it was cold.

The only time this lamp was off was at night or when she wasn’t home.

My pulse quickened.

I left her room and made my way down to Arion’s in the master suite, calling her name as I entered, too. “Arion?” I said. “Are you here?”

I checked her bed and her lamps, her room in the same untouched state as my mother’s. I walked over to the closet she shared with Damon, not going in, though.

“Ari?” I called. She could be in his room.

His room.

My teeth ached, and I unclenched my jaw, leaving the room and heading back to mine.

Grabbing my phone off the bedside table, I searched my apps, finding Uber, and ordered a car using VoiceOver to help me navigate. I forwent typing “assist” in the promotional code to let the driver know I had a disability. I was in a hurry, and no one in this town didn’t not know me, so we’d muddle through.

I slipped on some jeans, a T-shirt and jacket, and pulled on a baseball cap. After I got my shoes and socks on, I stuffed some cash from my stash into my wallet and stuck it into my pocket with my phone.

Heading downstairs, I called for my dog. “Mikhail!”

I pulled out my phone, checking the driver’s location.

“Four minutes,” VoiceOver read.

“Mikhail!” I shouted again, pulling his leash out of the drawer in the foyer table.

Something creaked above me again, and I shook my head, going breathless.

Something was wrong. That wouldn’t be my family. I called their names. They didn’t answer. Where were they?

Damon, what have you done?

I heard a noise, like the refrigerator closing, and maybe…

“Mom!” I yelled.

What was that? Where was my dog?

Racing into the kitchen, I halted, facing the direction of the refrigerator. “Hello? Who’s there?”

No answer.

Shit. I lunged, swinging open the back door. “Mikhail!”

Rain pattered the terrace and awnings, and I couldn’t hear him. He would come in if it was raining, and it he didn’t, he’d be huddled right outside this door. No jingling leash telling me he was running for me or whining to get out of the water. Where did he go?

Two footfalls hit the floor above me, and I stopped breathing.

Damn you. The fear of that night seven years ago when he first messed with me came flooding back, only this time, I doubted my dancing could get me out of this.

I slipped my hand in my pocket, finding the house keys already there, and fitting two between my fingers as a weapon. I closed the door, hearing my phone ding, probably with the notification that my ride was here. I gripped the leash in one hand, the keys in the other, and backed up a step.

The floor whined to my right as someone stepped, and I tried to inhale but couldn’t. Then something clicked from somewhere in the house, a door softly closing.

Weight settled on one of the stairs, and I heard the rings on a curtain slide along a rod. Closing.

More movement in the attic, and in my head, I’d already run.

Go. I forced every ounce of energy to pool in my legs as I gripped my weapons, spun around, and bolted out of the kitchen, taking the straight shot all the way to the front door.

I grabbed the handle, whipped it open, and flew outside into the rain and cool morning air. I slammed right into a car and fumbled with the door handle, finally opening it.

“Jesse?” I said the driver’s name I got from the app.