Page 13 of The Study Session

“Calm down!” the driver, the one who was doing all the talking at the game, shouts. “We're not going to hurt you, we're just going for a drive. I swear.”

“There's something you need to see,” the man beside me, the one I bit, says through an angry grunt.

I settle into the seat, pressing my back against the door to keep an eye on all three of them. The car is old and beaten up in some respects, but it smells like gas station patchouli thanks to the tree-shaped freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. The driver looks at me through the mirror and nods to the man beside him.

He turns in his seat and holds his phone out for me. I'm extremely confused, but he nudges it without saying a word, signaling for me to grab it. I do and hold it in my hands, not understanding what this is about.

“Press play,” the driver says.

I take a deep breath and look at the small screen, tapping it to reveal a play button. I don't know what's on this, but this has to be what they wanted me to see. My heart sinks to my stomach at all the possibilities of what it could be. Obviously, they have problems with Jax, and I know this is their attempt to separate the two of us. But to go to all these lengths, it has to be something bad. Right?

“Anytime now,” the driver urges, an exhausted tone in his voice.

I bite my lip anxiously and press play. A cacophony of laughter and indistinguishable voices replaces the silence of the car. Flashes of the driver running, his camera first facing him before he reorients it to the ground in front of him are all I see at first. Then he stops running and focuses the camera on a man kneeling on top of someone and swinging his fists hard against them.

It's not clear who it is right away, but I know why they brought me here. I feel sick to my stomach, and the sounds of bone hitting bone and the guttural cries from the pain don't help. I need to look away, but I can't bear to take my eyes away from the screen until I know who that is.

Toward the end of the video, the man pummeling the other to a near pulp on the ground stands up. He turns around with blood painting his fists, splattered on his white shirt and face, with a devilish smile on his lips. It's undeniably Jax.

“You did him in good,” the driver says in the audio, holding a hand out to excitedly shake with Jax. He runs toward the man on the ground to show him half-heartedly moving his head back and forth, coughing up blood as he begs for help. By the look of his clothes, I would imagine he's destitute, a homeless man on the street who has already had enough troubles in his life. I can't imagine what led to this.

The video stops, and I pause it before it replays. Once again, silence surrounds all three of us, and the only noise is that of the wheels treading over pavement.

“I think I'm going to be sick,” I say in a meek voice.

“You think you know him, but that is who he is,” the driver says, stopping at a stop sign and looking over my shoulder. “You need to break up with him, or we're going to show this to the police. Trust us, you don't want to be with someone like him. Consider this a favor.”

I blink a few times, nodding to acknowledge I heard what he said. My mind is racing, and I still don't know what's going on. After their warning, I don't think they're going to hurt me. They need me to relay the message to Jax.

“Where were you going?” the driver asks, and I don't respond right away. He slams his hands on the top of the steering wheel to signal his impatience.

“Library,” I manage to say, trying to force myself to calm down.

They drive away, taking me up the long hill toward the library and barely stop in front of it to let me out. Instead of giving me a moment to set my feet on the ground, they open the door and push me out of it, sending me crashing to the ground in front of the building.

“Hey! What the fuck did I tell you?” Jax shouts, racing toward the car as it speeds off.

I watch him in horror for a moment as he runs after the car, anger simmering in the air around him. When the car is out of sight, he turns around to see me cowering on the ground and offers a hand to help me up. I back away from him, the memory of him assaulting someone too fresh in my mind.

“They showed me a video of you,” I say, standing up on my own and backing away from him. He takes a step forward and I hold my hand out to stop him. “You could have killed him.”

“It's not what you think,” he says, trying desperately to explain.

“What I think doesn't matter. I saw what I saw,” I say, shaking my head vehemently. “Oh, and your friends are going to show that video to the police unless we break up.”

“The man in the video was threatening people on the street,” Jax explains, stepping in closer even though I asked him not to, his arms flailing at his side. “There were women and children he was threatening with a knife. He forced my hand.”

“You enjoyed it, Jax. You were smiling when you were done. You didn't just take a knife, you nearly killed a man!” I shout, trying to hold back the emotion in my voice without success. “I've seen that rage in you before. On the field. When you think about guys I've been on dates with.”

“That's not who I am anymore!” Jax argues, putting his hands on my shoulders momentarily before I shake them off. “It's who I thought I had to be.”

My heart breaks hearing the desperation in his voice. He wants this over, and I want to believe he's changed. But I don't know if it's a risk I can take.

“I think it's best that we break up,” I say, choking back the tears threatening to break through.

I don't wait for his response before I turn around to walk back to the dorm, eager to get away from him and break down in private. Jax strides to walk next to me, joining me on the small trek.

“Let me at least walk you to the dorm,” he says, shaking his head subtly beside me.

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