Page 151 of Hell Hath No Fury
Dr. McCormick didn’t say anything in response, she simply went to the coach’s office and through the glass partition that separated the rooms, I saw her put the knife beneath her pillow.
I nearly went in after her, demanding the knife back. Without it, I felt like I was missing a part of myself. My only link to Mr. Malcolm, someone I had come to trust, to look up to. And I knew, even if subconsciously, that it would be the last time I’d ever see him. It turned out to be true… alive anyway.
She came back out and said, “Don’t even bother thinking you can get it back before then. That office will be locked when I’m not in it, and if I see you’ve messed with it, I’m—”
A loud bang roared from the locker room. Sounded like a door swinging open then slamming into the wall behind it.
Dr. McCormick turned back toward the commotion. “Bobby…” she gasped, startled. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, fuck,” I muttered to myself.
Bobby pushed past Dr. McCormick and slithered into the gymnasium, the flickering candles lighting his face and making him appear evil as his hooded eyes scanned the room. His Wranglers were filthy, his white tank top dotted with cigarette ash and beer stains. Another man came in behind him, holding a case of Busch, one open in his other hand. Bobby had a half drank bottle of Jack and a lit cigarette pinched between his chapped lips. “I was up at my parents’ place. We were partying, and the damn power went out,” he huffed, scanning the room. He caught me looking at him and smiled, a leering smile that sent a chill down my spine.
I turned away quickly.
“Saw y’all are havin’ a little powwow down here and figured we’d join ya. This is my boy, Stu.”
Stu nodded, his unkept mustache and beard splitting as he grinned. Even though he stood across the dimly lit room, his teeth were so yellow they nearly glowed.
McCormick came up beside Bobby, whispering something in his ear.
He nudged her away, blowing a raspberry. “Oh, hush now.” He lifted the bottle of Jack to his lips, and the amber liquid inside sloshed about. “Kids, this here is whiskey. It’s juice for grownups, okay? And your Uncle Bobby and Uncle Stu are gonna be partaking while we’re hanging out. Anybody have a problem with that?” He looked around the room, waiting for a response that didn’t come. He glanced back toward McCormick and shrugged. “Well, there you go.”
“Mr. Carvill,Ihave a problem with it,” Doc said.
Bobby’s jovialness dissipated, a deep frown pulling down his mouth. “Whose name is on that goddamn sign out front,Ms.McCormick?”
“Yours,” she conceded.
“That’s fucking right.”
“At least the cigarette. Please. For the kids’ sake. I understand this is a unique predicament, but please… It’s already stuffy enough in here. If you must smoke, could you do it outside?”
Bobby thought on it for a moment then shrugged, tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out before taking a big swig of Jack. His eyes never left me. They were black, lifeless, and an awful shiver trailed my skin.
CHAPTER FIVE
Bobby stayed away from us most of that night. He stayed with his buddy in the corner of the gym, playing cards, laughing obnoxiously loud, drinking their booze. And despite plenty of fruitless protest from McCormick, they continued to smoke inside, collecting a pile of butts on the floor and creating a thick cloud of cigarette smoke that floated along the ceiling above. It made sleeping that night impossible, adding to the already uncomfortable stuffiness in the room since the AC wasn’t circulating the air. Having already accepted I wasn’t going to be getting any sleep that night, I was turned onto my side and staring at the tiny crack left between the boards of the barricaded window. I imagined being out there, taking a deep breath of the fresh night air, looking up at the twinkling stars. I missed it. I could nearly taste the fresh air flooding my mouth, feel it filling my lungs. The sunshine warming my skin in the morning as I listen to the call of the birds. And I prayed there on my cot that night that the world would return to normal so I could finally start my life.
It was well into that sleepless night when I felt a rough hand cup my mouth tightly. I turned over, trying to sit up, but more hands held me down. I saw Bobby there, leaning over me, reeking of booze and sweat.
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Be a good girl, and stay quiet, okay?” He glanced down toward his friend. “Stu, grab her legs, man. C’mon.”
When I screamed beneath his hand, he clamped down harder, and he charged his free hand down onto my face,striking me hard with his palm. “Keep fuckin’ quiet, whore,” he hissed.
I wriggled beneath their constrictive grip, my pulse thumping against my ear drums, fighting to wake up Monica … anybody. In my thrashing, I was able to get some space between Bobby’s hand and my lips. I took the opportunity to go fullJawson him, opening my mouth as wide as I could and clamping my teeth down on the tissue connecting his thumb and pointer.
He wailed out in pain, jerking up and releasing me from his grip. A surge of triumph rushed through me when I saw blood gush from the wound. I quickly sprang up so that I could hit his buddy and get him off my legs, but before I could, Bobby hiked up a leg and stomped down hard, catching the side of my head with his boot and knocking me back.
Stars peppered my vision, the edges of everything blurred out and distorted. When I felt my body being scooped up, I tried to fight, but I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t breathe. I felt a sickness in my stomach, bile creeping up my throat.
“What the hell are you doing?” It was Dr. McCormick.
Thank God.
“Put her down this instant.”
“Fuck you, bitch,” Bobby growled at McCormick.
