Page 95 of Reckless at Westbrook High

My vision blackens at the edges and I groan, opening my eyes to find him kneeling behind Callie to take his turn with her. Whatever he does next forces a scream from her throat and I try to pull my gun from my hoodie, but then Killian wraps his hand around my throat and smashes my head back against the floor. He beats the shit out of me while Frank rapes her without remorse, then they get up and switch places just to start all over again.

“Dad, stop,” I plead, struggling not to choke on the blood pouring down my throat. “Dad.”

He doesn’t stop and I force myself to move, ignoring the pain racking through my body while I roll onto my side to face Callie. Her glassy eyes hit mine and I drag myself closer to her, leaning up on my elbows to take her face in my hand. She flinches like she’s never known love and I pull her face to the crook of my neck, gently running my fingers through her hair in a lame ass attempt to comfort her.

“Aww,” Frank teases, crouching down beside us to slap me on the back. “Look, Dad. Your boy’s got a girlfriend.”

Killian laughs lightly and digs his fingers into her waist to finish inside her, pulling out to lift his eyes to mine. “Your turn.”

I shake my head no and he grabs me by the scruff of the neck, spinning Callie to shove her down on her back before he throws me down on top of her. She winces and I grit my teeth, keeping my weight off her the best I can while I lean over her to speak in her ear.

“Me and you..” I whisper, keeping my voice low so only she can hear me. “We’re gonna run. You think you can do that for me?”

She hesitates but nods, turning her head to face me fully. “We won’t get far.”

She’s probably right, but I’m not naïve enough to believe they won’t beat me half dead if I refuse to do this, and I wouldn’t put it past them to kill her while I’m knocked out just to fuck with me.

I give myself exactly three seconds to think of a plan that may or may not get us both killed, then I take a deep breath and push myself up to stand, grabbing the wooden chair on my left to smash it across my father’s head. He stumbles back into the dining table and Frank moves to rush me, freezing where he stands when I take my gun out to shoot him in the ribs. He drops to his knees and I take Callie’s hand to pull her with me, shoving Jason’s ass to the floor when he reaches out like he’s about to fucking grab her. We stumble through the front door and rush downstairs as fast as we can, not stopping when Killian’s voice calls out from above us.

“Get the fuck back here, you little shit!” he roars, banging his fist against the railing. “Fuck!”

He turns around to go save his best friend’s life and I push the main door open, turning left to pull Callie into the dark alley across the street. She sways a little bit and I catch her by the waist, wrapping my arms around her to pull her into me. Her tiny little body shakes against mine and I drop back against the wall, dipping my head to press my mouth to her hair.

“You’re okay,” I rasp, gently running my hands over her lower back. “I got you, Callie. You’re okay.”

* * *

“You’re a stubborn little bitch, you know that?” I mutter, snatching the vodka from her hand to set it down on the ground next to my feet.

She rolls her eyes and snatches it right back, lifting the bottle to her mouth to swallow yet another shot. “Quit bein’ a pussy and get it done.”

I shake my head at her but do as I’m told, threading the needle through her flesh as gently and quickly as I can before these drugs wear all the way off.

She’s sitting on the ground with her back to me in some park a couple blocks from the store we robbed just now, still fucking drinking despite the fact I told her not to.

This girl doesn’t do a damn thing she’s told.

She won’t go to the cops, won’t even go to the hospital to get herself checked out after what just happened, and I damn near had to fight her little ass to get her to agree to let me fix this stab wound on her back before she dies of a fucking infection.

“What’s your name?”

I don’t answer that.

“Okay, then..” she draws out, tipping her chin at my face. “You ever gonna take that mask off?”

I don’t answer that, either.

Instead I get done with her stitches and steal her vodka to take a drink, pulling my brows in when I catch her staring at me.

“What?”

“Are you alright?”

I laugh lightly at that, ignoring the way my ribs are screaming at me and my head feels like I got hit by a truck because this isn’t about me.

I wasn’t just held down on my stomach, stabbed in the back and raped within an inch of my life.

She’s fucking covered in bruises – some new and some not – and I don’t miss the way she’s still shaking like a leaf despite the fact it’s the middle of summer and hot as shit out here.

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