Page 95 of Rage

Alistair's words terrify me to my core. I don't know what he's planning, but I know that it can't be good. Derren drags me away and forces me into the trunk of the car. My glasses fall from my face and I don't see where they land. I try to scream, but the trunk is slammed shut, silencing me. I'm surrounded by the scent of gasoline and oil. Something in my backpack is sharp and jabbing into my back, and I do my best to slip the straps off. My breathing ratchets up until I'm hyperventilating in the darkness. I've never been claustrophobic before, but then again I've also never been shoved into a dark trunk either.

It feels as though Alistair has decided to drive down every shitty road in the county. My body is thrown around with every turn he makes, and every pothole he hits. I try to count the turns, but he makes so many that I lose count. Checking my phone does me no good, because service out in the country is spotty as fuck, so I can't even call for help.

All of a sudden, the car screeches to a stop. The trunk is thrown open, and after being surrounded by darkness for the last half an hour, I'm blinded by the light. Before I'm able to raise an arm to cover my eyes, my upper body is yanked out of the trunk and thrown to the ground. Gravel digs into my knees and the palms of my hands, forcing a scream to leave me.

"Tie her to the table."

I'm grabbed roughly once again and laid on my stomach on top of an old picnic table. My head hangs off the end as my arms are tied to the table legs. I feel a rough rope loop around both ankles, and as it's tied to the opposite end of the table, a hand pulls my hair, forcing me to look up. I have no idea where my glasses are at this point, so between that and my non-stop tears, whoever is standing in front of me is blurry. My hair continues to be pulled on so hard that I'm pretty sure some of it is ripped from my scalp. A fist meets my face, making me fight to keep a scream in before my vision goes black and I lose consciousness.

I come to as I'm being pulled out of the trunk once again. I have no idea what happened after I blacked out, and I don't know that I want to know.

"Let the trash go, D."

The jock does as Alistair commands, and I'm shoved forward. A shoe meets my ass and I fall to the asphalt on my knees. Gravel digs into my exposed knees as a foot enters my line of sight and meets my ribs. I can feel vomit rising, but I force it to stay down; at least until they're gone. Taking a chance, I lift my eyes, keeping my head down, and I see that I’m steps away from my father’s front gate.

I remain on my knees on the ground until after I hear car doors open and close, and the rumbling exhaust of the muscle car as it drives off. Of course, he makes it a point to peel out, forcing the wheels to spit gravel at me. I wait another minute before I finally stand up. My arms wrap around my abdomen and I limp the rest of the way to my father's house. The guard flinches when he sees me, and helps me walk up the long driveway to the house.

Once inside, I thank him and then slowly make my way to my bedroom. The moment I step into the room, I lock my door and drop my backpack onto the floor. As gently as I'm able, Iremove my uniform piece by piece, not caring where it ends up. I limp into my ensuite bathroom and run a bath. Only once I'm submerged in the hot water do I let myself break. As I sink into the hot water, I know that I’m never going to be the same person I was this morning. Alistair’s assault on my body and mind have left behind a new person; and she will never allow a man to get away with harming a woman again. In this moment, I vow to myself that somehow, someway, I WILL make Alistair and any man like him pay with their lives.

Chapter Two

Calista

February 2020

“Keep your hands up and block your faces, ladies!” the self defense instructor reminds us for the fourth time this lesson. She’s a retired police officer, and based on what I’ve heard from the other women in the class, her bite is worse than her bark. It’s why we signed up for her class and not the one taught by the personal trainer.

In the four years since I graduated high school and started studying business law at Paramount University, I’ve managed to leave behind the quiet outsider I was there. In her place is a viscerally angry woman who doesn’t take shit from any man. I haven’t just changed my mentality either. I grew out my chin length, blonde hair and started coloring it onyx black. I joined a gym off campus and turned my flabby body into a tight, curvy piece of art. I couldn’t do anything about my wide hips or big ass, and I still have a bit of a belly pouch. But I’ve learned to love and accept my body.

Sweat pours down my back and soaks the band of my sports bra as I move through the various self defense positions. Every so often my eyes drift from the instructor to the wall of mirrorsat the front, and I can’t help but flash myself a smile every time I see how my hard work over the past few years has paid off.

“Alright ladies, it’s time to start cooling down.”

A collective sigh can be felt through the large room as we all drop our hands and begin stretching our muscles. The ache in my arms and legs is exquisite.

After I’ve finished stretching every possible muscle group, I pick my water bottle up off the floor and take several big drinks of the cool liquid. I pour a bit on the top of my head and shiver as it runs down my back. I desperately need a shower, and from the looks of the rest of the class, I’m going to have to wait until I get back to my dorm.

I make my way outside to my car. The secondhand hybrid was my father’s graduation gift to me, so that he wouldn’t need to send his driver with me to university. Sadly, he’s just as emotionally neglectful now as he’s always been. He pays for my degree, which I’m grateful for, because I wouldn’t have been able to afford his alma mater otherwise. But it was a struggle to get him to even help with that. He wanted me to study law, but I wanted to study business. After arguing back and forth for half of my senior year, we finally compromised on business law and he was happy enough to pay.

I start the quiet car, and wait a few minutes for it to warm up. Mid-February in Indiana is no joke. I’d kill to live someplace where the air doesn’t hurt my face. Which is ironic, considering I’ve killed several men with pieces of winter. They all deserved their deaths. They were shitstains who thought putting their hands on women was okay. I pull my beanie further down my head before putting the car in gear and backing out of my parking space.

The drive from the gym to Paramount doesn't take me very long at all. It's barely long enough to listen to two songs from my metal playlist, and Lzzy Hale has barely started singing "LoveBites" when I pull up to my building. I park, but stay in my car until the end of the song. Once her powerful voice fades, I finally shut off my car. Grabbing my gym bag from the passenger seat, I open my door and step back out into the bitter winter air. Avoiding ice, I walk at a brisk pace until I'm inside my residence hall.

Three floors later, I make it to my private room. Another stipulation from my father. He didn't want me to share a room with anyone because apparently, "roommates are distractions” and he's “not paying for parties or gossiping." His exact words. Eye fucking roll. I drop my bag by the closet before hanging my winter coat up. As I walk into my en suite, I peel my workout clothes off my body and turn on my shower, cranking it as hot as I can handle.

I scrub every sweaty inch of my body, double shampoo, then deep condition my long hair. The exhaustion hits me right around the time I wrap a fluffy towel around my body, and I fight to keep my eyes open long enough to blow dry my hair before dropping into bed. I somehow manage to pull the towel off myself, then burrow down into the bed, pulling my thick comforter up to my chin. I'm out as soon as my eyes close.

The obnoxious sound of my five a.m. alarm wakes me up far sooner than I'm prepared for. Not for the first time, I curse myself for signing up for a seven a.m. class. Scratch that, I audibly curse admin for deciding that my necessary Business Negotiations 303 needed to be early as fuck on a Thursday. I take my time getting dressed in a pair of thick leggings and a fuzzy sweater dress. This professor is a stickler for his students being dressed in business casual, no matter what time of year it is, and I’m not in the mood to be chewed out today.

I run the straightener through my hair once, then put on a coat of both mascara and lip gloss. At the last minute, I also decide to add a simple winged liner. I put on my wool coat andpick up my messenger back from where I'd hung it yesterday after my last class. I'm out of my door with enough time to stop at the coffee shop on campus and grab a muffin and a coffee before class. Feeling proud for leaving with enough time to stop and grab breakfast, I give myself a mental pat on the back.

I devour my double chocolate muffin in record time, and still have half my large cup of coffee as I walk into the lecture hall. There are far more people here than there should be, and I only recognize a handful of them. I double back to the doors to make sure that I didn't walk into the wrong building while on auto-pilot.

Seeing that it is the correct place, I head back into the auditorium-like room and take a seat near the top, beside one of the few people I recognize. I think her name is Ginnifer? I lean toward her and whisper, "What's with all the extra people?" But she just shrugs, and I can't push it because that's when the professor walks in from his personal entrance off to the right of his heavy wooden desk.

I pull my laptop out of my messenger bag and boot it up. Opening the syllabus for this week's lesson, I hope to see why there are extra bodies in class today. But I have no such luck, there isn't any recently added information for this week. I groan softly, then sit back and get as comfortable as I'm able in the unforgiving seat.

"Put your computers away. You won't be needing them this week. As you can see, there are students in attendance today that aren't a part of this class." The professor waves a hand in the direction of the fifteen or so people occupying the two front rows. "Their usual professor has taken an unexpected sabbatical for the rest of the year, so his classes are being merged with mine. In the spirit of business negotiations, I'm pairing everyone up and giving each pair a topic. You will each come up with a theoretical business, and you need to be able to negotiate afair merger with one another. When I call your name, grab your things and come to the front to greet your partner."

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