Page 12 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

I wrinkle my nose. Get me my beer so I can go.

We walk to the stands, and I discretely pull out of my wallet enough money for three beers, plus a tip. I keep my distance from Lamar as he purchases our beers, and when the woman working the stands hand him my open bottled beer, I watch closely as Lamar accepts it, to ensure he doesn’t slip anything in it. I do not trust these guys for a minute. Quickly, I take my bottle and begin walking away.

“Hey!” The two guys call out. They quickly catch up to me. Dakota reaches out and takes my hand. “That’s it. We’re not going to talk or anything?”

“I’ve got to get going. Thanks though.” I tip my bottle to them.

“Now wait. This is the Show-Me state, so I was hoping you’d show me something,” Lamar smirks at me.

I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“Or perhaps, we could show you a thing or two,” Dakota’s eyes linger on my body. What a slimeball.

I look around and then pretend to wave to someone. “I’m coming!” I shrug at Dakota and Lamar, “As fun as that sounds, I can’t. My friends are waiting for me.”

“Next time get your friends to get your booze,” Dakota snarls.

I scoff, “It’s not like you didn’t get a beer and money out of the deal.”

He leans toward me as he walks past me, “I wasn’t after money and beer, princess.” He hisses the word princess. A shiver runs through me and I quickly walk away from them.

I continue past the food stands toward the fair parking lot. Not sure why I’m going here since I didn’t drive and rode with a friend, but I need to get away. It’s not like they’ve missed me. I’ll get far enough away and call Trent. The fair music is loud, but I’m sure I hear something behind me. I turn around to find myself alone in the dark with Isabelle. She approaches me with an evil smirk. Scanning my dark surroundings, I can only see a reflective vest on a man guiding traffic in the parking lot, but he’s far away. Yup, I’m alone with this psycho bitch. This isn’t going to end well. I turn my bottle of beer up. I need a good buzz to endure whatever’s coming.

Hate spews from her lips as she continues to insult me and my family. “Your family ruined mine. You almost got me in serious trouble with that stunt of jumping out in front of my car. It’s a damn good thing you didn’t press charges.”

“Well, you’re welcome. You didn’t have to follow me to thank me.” I sip my beer and flip her off with my other hand.

“You think you’re so high and mighty when you’re nothing but a stupid, pampered bitch. You and your fucked-up family. Your queer brother -”

I finally can’t take anymore. I snap.

I swing my arm holding the beer bottle and bash it on the side of her head. It knocks her down, and I pounce on top of her. Alternating between my left and right fist, I continue to hit her. All my hate is released in an angry wave of punch after punch. I feel… I feel…Freed! It’s exhilarating, to release all this built-up frustration.

My vision is blurred by my angry hot tears that stream down my face and it finally registers that her body isn’t moving. I immediately stop. I cringe and begin to pray that she’s still alive. My adrenaline rush is fading. My feelings of euphoria are fading fast as well. It was a temporary high. I place two fingers against her neck. “There’s a pulse,” I whisper aloud in relief. I look down at Isabelle and stare in horror at what I’ve done. Her face is a bloody mess. She needs an ambulance. Okay. Okay. Okay. Oh my God what have I done? Okay. Okay. Okay.

I’m freaking out. Now is not the time to freak out. I look around as I get off of Isabelle and stand up. I’m going to get arrested. Me arrested? I’ve kept my nose clean. This is the worst possible thing to happen right now. I’m in my sophomore year of college. I can’t go to jail. I can’t have a criminal record while seeking internships. I try to come up with a way to possibly get out of this, but there’s nothing. I deserve to go to jail, but my parents don’t deserve to be put through another ordeal.

How did this happen? How did it come to this? We used to be close friends, but our brothers passed away. Even though that was years ago, she’s bullied and harassed me every chance possible. Tonight, I finally fought back.

A little too well, apparently.

I grab my hair with both hands and tug as I pace back and forth next to Isabelle. What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t have lost control. I should have ran as soon as I saw her. Better yet, I shouldn’t have allowed her to get under my skin and have that control over me. I need to call someone. I need to just call the ambulance and face the consequences. I pull out my cell phone and unlock the screen.

“Isabelle? Isabelle?” A female voice calls out.

“Where the fuck is she? Are you sure she came this way?”a guy asks.

“Yeah. It was crowded but her bleached hair almost glows in the dark.”

They laugh and then he chuckles. “You’re such a bitch. Shut the fuck up.”

They’re getting closer. What do I do? If they catch me, this will be far worse for me. I’ll be caught red-handed and then it will look like they forced me to call. Or they might say they had to force me to stop. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Isabelle?”

I run to the back of a nearby building. The sound of a woman’s scream rakes over me, and I squeeze my eyes tightly closed as though it’ll block out the horror of what’s happening right now.

“OH MY GOD! ISABELLE!”

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