“WHO’S THE FUCKING FATHER?!”
I recoil at his screamed words. “W-What? You!”
He strikes a hand toward me, grabbing a handful of my hair. I shriek when he pulls me toward him, his eyes glowing with rage and his breath smelling of liquor. His mouth opens to speak but then we slam hard into something.
Black.
Black.
Black.
Everything hurts.
Pain.
Oh my God.
So much pain.
“Char, babe,” Ryan grunts out. “I got you.”
I’m being dragged away from my car, the heels of my bare feet scraping across the asphalt. Oh my God. My car. It’s mangled beyond recognition. Everything hurts and my mind is foggy.
“Oww,” I whine. “It hurts.”
“You’re fine,” he croons. “You’re fine. We’re fine. My dad will be here soon. Everything’s going to be all right.”
I start to cry.
Why is he being so nice now?
He’s a cruel, mean bastard.
The last thing I remember is him screaming at me, my hair tangled in his fist. Now he’s stroking my hair and promising me the world.
“Owww.” Tears roll out when another flash of pain slices across my midsection. “It hurts.”
“Ssh,” he says, his teeth chattering. “I have something to help.” His shaking hand appears in front of my face. “Take this.”
I turn my head. “I can’t. It won’t be good for the b—owww!”
The acrid taste of the pill makes me gag. He pushes it back and pinches my nose, forcing me to swallow it. As soon as it’s down, I start to cry harder. He strokes my hair, trying to calm me.
“W-What did we hit?” I ask, shuddering. “Did we hurt someone?”
“That car,” he says, pointing. “You weren’t looking at the road and hit it head-on.”
Bile rises up my esophagus. “I did that?”
I scream.
Over and over again.
My throat hurts from screaming so much.
Someone is shaking me, trying to wake me.
It’s not a nightmare.
It’s a memory.
The man’s voice should scare me, but it doesn’t. It finds me in the darkness. Comforts me. Begs me to tell him what’s wrong. I cling to him, sobbing.
Light.
I squint against the harsh, bright light, staring in confusion at Terrence standing in the doorway, a baseball bat in his hands. He’s not bloody and dying. He’s alive. Oh my God.
“What the fuck?” Terrence bellows.
“I don’t know, man,” Cal tells him. “I think she had a bad nightmare.”
I shake my head, tears slinging from my jaw. “N-No. I remember. Cal, I remember.”
“Remember what, Charlie girl?”
Terrence approaches, sitting on the foot of the bed, a frown on his poor, broken face. I reach for his hand. He tentatively takes it, his eyes flashing to Cal’s in confusion.
“I wasn’t driving,” I whisper.
Silence.
I sit up on my knees, holding the blanket to my naked chest, so I can look Terrence in the eyes. Cal’s hand strokes down my bare spine, comforting me.
“That night. The accident. Ryan was driving. He…” I choke on my words. “He pulled me out after the crash. Forced me to take a pill.” Tears flood down my cheeks. “It wasn’t me.”
Terrence’s eyes widen and Cal stiffens beside me. It’s a shock to everyone, especially me, but I remember now.
“He hurt you,” I explain tearfully. “And he killed my baby.”
Terrence flinches at my words.
“What baby?” Cal asks, his tone a violent calm.
I turn to him. “Mine.” My bottom lip wobbles. “I was so heartbroken.”
He runs his knuckle down my cheek and kisses my lips. “I’m so fucking sorry, Charlotte.”
Charlotte.
Not parasite or loser.
Not monster or bitch.
The anguish in his eyes makes my heart stutter in my chest. Guilt flickers hot like flames in his green eyes.
“He framed me,” I choke out. “Hurting me wasn’t enough. Killing my baby wasn’t enough. He had to frame the accident to look like I did it. Why?”
Cal swallows and cups my cheeks with his palms, swiping the tears away with his thumbs. “Because he’s a psychopath. We need to tell your dad. The authorities. Your attorney. You got your license revoked and have a misdemeanor on your record. It was all bullshit. That motherfucker…” He cracks his neck and pins me with a hard glare. “He won’t get away with this.”
I hope not.
I want Ryan Cunningham to pay for his sins.
One week later…
I head for Cal’s class early. It feels good to be in a cheerleading uniform again. Orange and white. Hood River in black writing is emblazoned across the chest of the polyester uniform top. Our skirts are a little on the skimpy side, but we wear boycut shorts underneath so we don’t flash the world our lady bits. I’m equal parts nervous and excited for Cal to see me.
This week has been a whirlwind.
For one, Cal has been treating me like I’m a handful of glass that’s been shattered. Like if he holds me too tight, I might break even more. But I won’t. I’m stronger than I was last spring. I know part of it is guilt on his part, but I don’t like it. I prefer my mean boy with his cruel mouth and twisted proclivities.
I’m going to push him back to the dark side where we belong together.
I peek in the classroom, admiring my man as he stares at his laptop, scowling. When he’s in teacher mode, it turns me on. He’s not a bad Hoodlum. He’s a man. A grown-ass man with a grown-ass job. It makes me the delinquent here because I want to encourage him to do bad things.
As if I’m innocent, I prance into the classroom over to my desk without making eye contact with him. I set my bag down on the floor and then bend over to hunt for my phone. The creak of his chair sends a shiver down my spine. Snagging my phone, I stand up straight. Heat burns at my back.
The devil’s come to get you, little girl.
A smile tugs at my lips. “Good morning, Mr. Hutton.”
“Morning, cheerleader,” he growls, his hand gripping my hip. “How in the fuck is this outfit legal?”
I twist around to face him, giving him my fakest cheerleader smile. “It meets the athletic dress
