Page 75 of Lilies in Autumn

I drive through the parking lot and aim my Jeep between two large oak trees that will give me the most direct path to Howard. I’m not a religious man, but I’m thanking God that there seems to be no one on campus right now. I shoot between the oaks and drive through the quad, not giving a shit that I’m probably ripping up the landscaping that my tuition pays for.

Fucking bill me, cocksuckers.

I stop my car in front of the picnic tables outside Howard and throw my door open. Pulling out my phone, I check my location app and click on Ava’s name. As soon as we made our relationship official, we shared our locations with each other. I didn’t think this shit would happen, but I’m thankful as fuck for this app.

Looking at Ava’s pin, it shows that she’s inside the building, less than two hundred feet from me. It doesn’t take a fucking genius to realize that Felicity took her to the room where this shit first went down.

I race inside, not giving a shit about anything other than Ava.

Ava

I wake up to a sharp sting against my cheek and realize that I’ve just been slapped, hard. My skin burns, and the shock of the blow makes me groan and recall Felicity’s attack outside Howard Hall. My stomach tenses and my head throbs; she is completely unhinged.

Batshit crazy, to put it mildly. I was on the phone with Grey when she came out of nowhere, appearing like a specter behind me before clubbing me until I lost consciousness. I have no idea how long I’ve been here; it could be minutes or hours. I’m fucking terrified right now. If she’s crazy enough to attack me in a public place with no regard for her surroundings, there is no telling what she is willing to do to me.

I’ve watched enoughLaw & Orderand have listened to my parents’ podcast enough to know that my escape—fuck, mysurvival—depends on calming this girl down and getting her to talk.

“Wake up, you fat bitch,” Felicity hisses, kicking me in the stomach. So much for keeping her calm.

I sputter a cough, trying to dispel the pain radiating throughout my body. “I’m up. Jesus, you don’t need to hit me. Haven’t you done enough?” I question.

“Enough? You think I’ve done enough, you fucking cow,” Felicity says in a high-pitched squeal. “Haven’tyoudone enough? It wasn’t enough that you were a whore and opened your legs formyman, no. You had to fucking brainwash him, and he gave you lilies. That’smyflower. I fucking told him that; he knows I love them.” She sniffs, as though she’s feeling something other than psychopathy. “He did it to get back at me, I know it. He’s mad I hooked up with Dylan last year, and this is him trying to get back at me. But don’t worry, you’ll be out of the picture soon and then he and I can be together.”

I’m relatively positive that I have a concussion right now—the main cause of the pounding headache I have emanating from the back of my skull. The soliloquy that Felicity just gave me is adding to the throbbing of my head.

I have one chance at appealing to her sensibilities, if any even exist. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I try reasoning. “Felicity, you’re a beautiful, smart girl.” I cringe, nearly gagging on the fallacy. “Do you really want to be with a man that doesn’t want you, or wants to get back at you for being with another man?” Grey would never, ever want her. When I get out of here, I’m going to kill him for hooking up with her in the first place.

She studies me, a look of distrust painting her face. I continue, “You can just let me go and I can help you. There are so many guys that would love to be with you. Don’t you want to be with someone like that?” If she lets me go, I am running straight to the fucking police.

She lets out a maniacal laugh, chilling my blood. I never had a fucking chance.

“You are a fucking loser, nothing more than a warm hole to stick his dick in.” She moves forward, bending down in front of me and gripping my face. Felicity’s face breaks out in a serene grin before she spits in my face and slams my head into the ground.

I scream, and that just pisses her off even more. “Scream all you fucking want. There’s no one here to hear you.” She stands back up and walks to the desk set against a broken smart board. Working through the pain radiating throughout my body, I take stock of my surroundings: broken smart board, commercial door with no window hole or side panel, and student desks pushed to the side. Immediately, I know where we are: the classroom in Howard Hall where Grey and I were unknowingly filmed. Felicity must realize that I figured out where we are because she snorts. “Isn’t it fucking poetic? You’ll die in the same place you first sealed your fucking fate. I fucking warned you that he was mine and to stay away, but you didn’t listen. Actions have consequences, and it’s fucking time you learned what they are.”

She turns to the desk and picks something up, turning around with another saccharine smile plastered on her face. “I have to say, I’ve been dreaming about this moment for a long time. Dragging you here cost me a nail, and you’ll pay for that. If I gave a shit, I’d tell you that you need to lose weight. But do you know the quickest way to lose twenty pounds? You cut off a leg,” Felicity laughs, holding up the object in her hand.

My eyes widen at the fucking machete she clutches. Where the fuck did this girl get a machete? Is she related to Indiana Jones?

Of all the ways I thought I’d die, death by a machete-wielding sorority girl was not a consideration.

“Now, which leg should I cut off first?” Her eyes glitter like she’s enjoying this. Felicity advances across the room, cutting the distance between us with every step. I brace myself, knowing that unless I fight her off, I will die in this dusty room. Tears pool in my eyes, and I try to blink them away before she notices. It’s no use because her gaze has been trained on me from the minute I woke up on the carpeted floor.

In a baby voice, she questions, “Oh no, is the little whore crying?” She lets out another laugh. “You should be scared, you fucking slut. I’m going to make you fucking bleed.” She pounces at me, rearing her hand back, ready to strike. Before she can make contact, I roll away and scramble toward the door. Firm hands grip my ankles and drag me back, pulling me close to her.

Kicking out, I manage to dislodge one of her hands and feel my foot connect with something solid. “You fucking bitch,” she screams. Not bothering to turn over to look at the damage I inflicted, I get up on shaky legs and hobble as fast as I can toward the door. Between the hits to my head, face, and stomach, I’m disoriented and unsteady on my legs. I nearly make it to the door when I feel hands tear at my head, pulling me back until I’m forced down on my knees. I claw at her, but her hold is too strong, and I can’t loosen it in my weakened state.

Keeping a firm grip on my head, Felicity rounds my body and stands before me, face filled with blood and rage. Her nose is crooked and bleeding on her face, and I give myself an internal high five that I seem to have broken her perfect little nose. The crazed look in her eyes combined with the death grip she has on the machete tells me that she’s about to strike. Twisting my head, I hit at her knees, attempting to make her collapse and give me the upper hand.

Anticipating my move, she kicks out and hits me in the chest, forcing me to fall back until I am lying on the ground once again. Felicity straddles me, locking her legs around my legs with surprising strength. With her body pinning me down and the pain rapidly taking over, taking me under, I breathe in a deep breath, a breath that could very well be my last.

It’s a weird sensation, being aware of your impending death. There’s no “if,” it’s a “when” and how difficult I can make it for her. Thrashing my body, I try to knock her off, or at least delay her next attack. If I can last a few more minutes, I know that Grey will find me.

We were on the phone when Felicity attacked me, and I can bet that he heard the impact of the bat and her words before she knocked me out cold. “Get off me, you fucking bitch,” I yell at her, making as much movement as I can.

She laughs, the smile on her face widening at my struggle. With a speed that I don’t anticipate, she slashes my abdomen and I howl in pain. She didn’t cut deep, but the fabric of my shirt is cut in half, and my skin is on fire from the slash. “Oh, fuck,” I cry out, stomach muscles contracting in agony.

“I didn’t think I’d have this much fun slicing you open,” she says, almost joyfully. “Let’s see what else this little knife can do.”

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