Page 66 of Demon Kissed
“Mr. D gotmugged,” she shrieks. But hers is more of a teenage shriek of delight to have gotten the first, freshest gossip.
I gasp. But my gasp is riddled with pain because it suddenly feels like there are holes in my chest. I literally have to put down my book and put a hand over my heart to ensure it’s still beating. Raz is hurt? And nobody told me?
When did that happen? How? Did it happen after he dropped me off? A horror movie montage starts to play out of my dad paying someone to hurt him. I know my parents have money.
Stacy’s still blathering on, saying something like, “He doesn’t even look like himself—”
But I’m not listening.
I turn, abandoning my bookbag, leaving my locker wide open. I use my Calculus book as nature always intended—as a weapon to whack the idiots crowding the hallway.
Then I sprint to the gym.
Note—I don’t run. Like ever. So when I reach the gym, I’m a sweaty, panting mess, but I yank open the metal door and rush inside, dropping the calculus book with a thud that echoes when I see Raz’s face.
It looks like hamburger meat. It looks like someone beat and clawed him to a pulp.
Oh God, no.No.I feel like I’m standing in a rainstorm, and suddenly, all the raindrops have turned into rocks. And the rocks are sharp and pelt down, pummeling right through my skin, ripping it away. Seeing him hurt literally hurts me. My entire body aches as though I feel echoes of his pain.
“Raz,” I whisper, forlorn.
I can hardly see those beautiful, furious eyes of his as he stomps over to me. “What are you doing in here,Ms. Colt?”
I reach automatically for his face, but he shoves my hand down.
“You’re my student, remember?” he growls.
I ignore his very obvious reminder. His stupid front doesn’t matter right now. “What happened?”
“None of your business. Now get to class.”
His dismissal hurts, but in a different way. It’s not like seeing him suffer. Whereas seeing him hurt feels like a million minor cuts, hearing him dismiss me feels like he’s just reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart until it burst like a water balloon in his hand. It’s far worse.
It takes me a minute to recover from that. And I can’t stop the tears that gather in my eyes. Because maybe I do deserve his scorn and rejection, maybe this is all my fault. “Was it my dad?” The word comes out shaky and hesitant, and immediately, I put a hand on the wall and stare at the floor, panting, bracing myself for his answer.
If it was my dad’s doing…I can’t go home.
Raz answers in a growl so low I can hardly hear, because he’s standing on my bad side. I have to look up and read his lips a little in order to understand. “You think your dad is any kind of a threat to me?” Raz tilts his mutilated face up toward the ceiling and laughs unpleasantly. “Baby girl, I’m a thing of nightmares.”
* * *
Raz wouldn’t sayanother damn word. Not one. The warning bell rang and students started showing up, but still, I deserved a damn explanation. I deserved to know what was going on.
Because I like—no, because Icareabout these idiot demons. As friends. I spent all day yesterday rationalizing away my stupid dream self who’s so obsessed with love, she can’t tell the difference between demon pals and lovers. Clearly, I’m not that important to him. Clearly, we aren’t to the level of sharing things yet.
See?I tell my heart.William’s the far better choice.He wouldn’t shove me away if I was just being concerned like a decent human being.
I stomp back to my locker, certain I’m going to be late for my next damn class and furious about it.
As I walk through the halls, I see David, Stacy’s boyfriend, talking with a few of the guys from decathlon. David’s such a nice guy. Doesn’t really care about the stupid social hierarchy. Unlike some people. Who are gym teachers.
I’m still seething that he wouldn’t tell me what happened. These assholes butt into every aspect of my life, but when I show the tiniest bit of concern for theirs, this is what happens?
I get the brush off. And not just the little lint brush, I get the push broom of brush offs. “Fucker,” I mutter under my breath.
“Hey, Katrina!” David notices me and fist bumps my study buddy, Tim, before striding over. “Guess what happened!”
“Mr. D got mugged,” I parrot glumly, not ready to make eye contact with him. He’s too much of an enthusiastic guy and makes me feel like Eeyore in comparison. But I want to be Eeyore. I want to pout just as much as I did when I found out William had a date.
