Page 10 of Wicked Nasty

"Danny, this was your idea," Becca says, with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

My sister's face flashes before me, covered in blood and lifeless. I can't focus on anything else when this image haunts me constantly. How can anyone expect me to carry on with normal life after something like that happens in our small community?

Becca’s hand reaches out to grab my headphone, but I’m quicker than her. Pulling her close to my face, I glare at her with an intensity. "Don't ever fucking touch me, Rebecca."

I push her away harshly, quickly grabbing my bag and heading for the door. My teacher calls out my name, but I ignore her and keep walking. Right now, I can't be in this classroom pretending everything is fine when it feels like my world has been shattered into pieces.

Braving the biting cold, I trudge through the thick blanket of snow to reach the bleachers. Tiny icicles cling to my eyelashes and my breath comes out in white puffs that quickly dissipate into the frigid air. Ignoring the discomfort, I pull out a blunt and light it, taking a long drag and relishing in the calming effects of the Wedding Cake strain. It goes down smooth, no harsh burn or coughing like some other strains I've tried.

The bell rings and I lazily watch as my classmates pour out of the school building. Among them is Becca, her head hung low as she walks towards the bleachers. A group of girls ambush her from behind, shoving her face first into a huge pile of snow. The sound of their cruel laughter echoes around me as I sit back and do nothing to stop it.

I'm just as bad as those girls… maybe even worse for sitting here and watching it all happen without intervening. But what can I do? I'm just an asshole... and that's all I'll ever be.

Becca manages to pick herself up, her makeup smeared from the snow and tears streaming down her face. From where I'm sitting, I can see a faint marking of a cut underneath her smudged makeup. She rushes towards the bleachers, wiping away at her face with trembling hands. As she gets closer, I notice a deep bruise surrounding the cut on her face.

Guilt gnaws at my conscience as Becca sits down next to me, trying to hide her injuries. But there's nothing I can say or do now to make it right. All I can do is sit here in silence, knowing that I am just another reason why Becca's life is so difficult.

Becca brings her cell phone up to her ear, the glowing screen casting a faint blue light on her face. I move back, eager to eavesdrop on her conversation.

"Hey, it's uh, me. Becca." Her voice is shaky and strained. "She hit me... again." She pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. "And now she wants to kick me out. They're selling the house." A crease forms between her brows as she speaks. "I don't know what to do. I wish you were here with me." She quickly wipes at her face, trying to hide any sign of tears. "But I'm not crying. We're big, strong girls, right?" The last words come out in a forced, determined tone.

Becca hangs up the phone as I quietly descend from the bleachers behind her, causing her to startle when she notices me.

"Who were you talking to?" I ask curiously.

"It's none of your business," Becca retorts, scowling at me. "Maybe you should focus on your own problems, Danny."

Ignoring her, I take a step closer. "What happened to your face?"

Becca flinches away from my touch as if burned, instinctively covering the injury with her hand.

"Get away from me," she snaps.

But I don't listen, taking another step forward and gently grabbing her chin in my hand, forcing her to look up at me.

Becca shivers under my intense gaze, and I can't help but smirk. "Not so nice when someone invades your personal space, huh? Or maybe it is..." My voice trails off suggestively.

Instead of running away like I half-expected her to do, this fiery hellhound in front of me steps closer, her sultry lips curling into a teasing smile.

"Just a reminder,Danny," she purrs, her hand reaching down and playfully scraping her sharp black nails along my pants. "We're only partners in class. Don't get too attached." With a laugh, she pushes away from me, leaving me standing there like a bumbling fool.

God damn it. Becca is...

My phone vibrates insistently in my pocket, jolting me out of my daydreams. In a daze, I answer the call.

“Uh, hey,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

“It’s dad. Are you on your way home?”

I nod absentmindedly as I continue walking towards my car. “Yeah. Just finishing up a project for class. I'll be back soon.”

Unlocking the door with a click, I slide into the driver's seat and start the ignition. The familiar smell of leather seats and air freshener fills my nose as I pull out of the parking lot and head home.

But no matter how hard I try, Becca's image lingers in my mind like a stubborn stain. Her laugh echoes in my ears and her bright smile dances in front of my eyes, distracting me from the road ahead. Even as I drive, her name whispers through my thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

Thedinnertableisa somber scene, with only the clinking of forks and knives breaking the silence. Delilah glances around, then bursts into tears and flees from the room. My mom follows after her, leaving me and my dad alone.

With a sigh, I push my plate away, and my dad does the same. "Shit," he mutters.

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