Page 33 of Baby Duke

My stomach plummets to the floor. Hell, it digs itself beneath the floor until it is six feet under.

It's a photo of me. A shitty, blown-up, and blurred photo, but it is definitely me. And West. And Law and Brett. My leg is notched up in Law's grip, my hands high above my head as Brett holds me firm. West is there, knuckles deep inside of me. And my face. My face has been captured right at that moment of time-shattering bliss. My lips are parted, my eyebrows pinched, and my head thrown back. But my eyes are glued to his. West's.

I scrunch the paper up immediately.

"Where did you get this?" I whisper.

Trent clears his throat. "They're everywhere. Taped to lockers, doors, and windows. Roe, I am so sorry. I have gotten as many as I could, but there are just too many. I don't know how many I have missed."

I feel violated. Sick. This is how I should have felt after the incident occurred yesterday, but my hussy body was blissed out, completely sated and satisfied. I had even heard the closing of a door after it had happened. Why the fuck hadn't I looked for the person who'd witnessed it? The person who hadphotographedme at such a personal moment.

I swallow down the bile in my throat. I can't show my weakness in front of these people. These spoiltchildren.

"Roe? Are you ok?" Trent asks, resting a shaking hand on my shoulder.

"The fuck is this?" an imposing voice booms from behind me. I don't need to turn. I know who it is. I know what he is seeing. But I turn anyway. I turn and face the monster with the face of an angel. The bully who just this morning tricked me into believing he had a heart.

He is holding a page in his hand, his fist slowly crumpling it as his anger practically vibrates the air around him. Brett and Law, his ever-present shadows, stand at his shoulders, wearing equal measures of anger.

I step towards them.

"You did this," I whisper. The hall is silent, so I know they heard me, but I repeat myself anyway, hysteria creeping into my tone. "You did this!"

Law shakes his head like a desperate puppy. Brett's scowl softens. But West. He just stares back and says nothing.

"You're a right, fucking jerk, you know that?" I scream. "A grade-A asshole!" I stab my finger at his chest. "Daddy would be so fucking proud."

He flinches, but I feel no satisfaction. Hell, I want to slap him across his stupid face and leave my hand imprinted on his sharp cheek for hours. I am ready to do it, too, but a commanding voice cuts through the painful silence.

"Roe."

He does not yell. He doesn't need to.

I turn to Mr. Foster, who is standing at his classroom door. He tilts his head, the message loud and clear.Come.

Fuming, I turn back to stare down West for another moment before relenting and stomping past the teacher and into his room.

"Argh!" I screech once the door has clicked closed behind us. I throw my bag against the floor and kick a table in my fiery passion.

A warm hand lands on my shoulder, and I freeze, chest heaving.

"Roe," Mr. Foster says. "Are you ok?"

Refusing to meet his searching gaze, I keep my eyes down, furiously swiping at the few tears that have managed to breach my eyelids.

"No," I say stiffly.

Mr. Foster sighs heavily. "Come sit by my desk."

He squeezes my shoulder gently before heading to his desk. I take a moment to gather myself before grabbing a seat and dragging it to sit opposite him. I fall ungracefully into the seat and fold my arms across my belly, an insecure attempt to shield myself.

Mr. Foster grabs his bag from the floor and places it gently onto the desk. He removes his laptop as I watch him in silence. Next, he pulls out a lunch box. Opening it, he looks up at me and pulls out some sort of chocolate cake.

"Brownie?" he offers, holding it out.

I eye the cake. "Unless it’s a weed brownie, I'm not interested." Lies. Give me the fucking cake.

Mr. Foster looks back to the door as if to confirm we are, in fact, still alone. His gaze slides back to mine and he smirks, his face turning boyish and sly. "Like I said, would you like a brownie, Roe?"

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