Page 21 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“Give me my phone,“ I demand in a hard tone.

“I’m afraid that is not going to happen,” Chris says flatly.

I jolt when Trent’s finger rubs down my arm. I pull away from his touch, making me want to throw up. “Fuck off, Trent.”

“You know what, Chris? I kinda think she looks pretty tonight.” Trent leers at my chest. Nausea crawls up my throat. “I didn’t know she had a rack like that.”

I sink in my seat and move closer to the door trying to the handle. “Let me out, Chris!”

Fear swirls in my gut. They wouldn’t?

“All the pretty sweet skin,” Trent continues like he didn’t hear me. “I bet your cunt is just as sweet.”

I wipe my eyes. Fear squeezing my chest. “Stop it, Trent. You’re better than this. Both of you. Don’t…”

The car stops to a screeching halt, causing me to fly forward and hit the back passenger seat. It gives me whiplash, and I feel my neck snap.

“What the fuck, Chris!” Trent yells, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re here,” he says calmly and gets out.

I look out my window and see nothing but darkness and trees on both sides of the road. We’re in the middle of nowhere. There are no houses. No signs of life.

“Where are we?” I ask in a shaky voice.

My door opens. “Where the fun begins,” Chris says and grabs me by the arm, dragging me out of the car. “You said you wanted out.”

“What are you going to do?” I say between sobs.

“Whatever the fuck we want,” Trent says, breathing heavily.

“What—”

Chris shuts the door. “Let’s go. We got her out here. Fun is over.”

“You’re leaving me here?”

Trent throws my phone on the ground, stepping on it with his dress shoes for good measure and causing it to shatter. Then he says, “Yeah.”

I wipe my face. “Why? I never—” I sniff. “Did anything to you.”

“Someone had to be the end-of-the-year prank this year, and none of the girls like you,” Trent says.

Chris opens the driver’s side door and calls out, “Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

Chris’s hard stare aims directly at me, and I wonder how I got it all wrong. He was supposed to be the nice one. Sometimes in study hall he would smile at me, at least when his friends weren’t around. But apparently, he’s no different from them.

Trent turns to open the door.

“Please, don’t do this, Trent,” I beg, my legs shaking. “Why are you doing this?”

He pauses for a second, then says, “They hate you because you’re good. You don’t make mistakes, and you’re beautiful without trying.” He gets in, slams the door, and the SUV takes off.

I watch the taillights until they are tiny specks disappearing into the darkness. I'm surrounded by tall, foreboding trees on the dimly lit road. A shiver creeps down my spine with each rustle of leaves. The faint moonlight dances and twists as it barely breaks through the dense canopy of clouds.

8

FORD

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