Reapers and Roses: (Grove High School Book One) Page 10

  I bend over, getting right into her face. "Now listen here, Tiffany. You will not show your face at the Grove High again. I don't care where you go, Newport High, somewhere in Antarctica, or fucking drop out for all I care. You will not show your face at my school again. And if you do? I will fucking kill you. I can promise you that. Okay? Same goes for your little friends, too."

  She sobs what I think is an okay, but that's not good enough for me.

  "Come on Tiffany, I need words. Do you fucking understand?" I shout in her ear.

  "Yes!" She sobs.

  "Good. Let's go, boys." I say, giving just one more thing.

  A swift boot to her face.

  I hear the sweet sound of bone breaking.

  That one broke, for sure.

  I sigh as I relive my day, the exhaustion finally weighing down on me. I really wish that I could have killed all of them, but I know Rich would have been pissed to have to clean up that mess.

  They deserved it though. They deserved to get murdered in cold blood for hurting someone innocent that didn't even do anything to them.

  I take a big breath as fury warms my blood, not wanting to rip the seams on any more of Rose's expensive sheets.

  I curl in closer to her, securing her to me and making sure she is protected by every inch of my body.

  Once I'm confident that I am doing all that I can to keep her safe, I finally let sleep overcome me with the promise of only getting a few hours of sleep.

  I know I'm an idiot for driving all the way here, but I'm not doing it because I think I sleep better when I'm near Rose.

  No, I just wanted to make sure she's going to be all right.

  Yeah, right.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Rose

  If you don't hunt it down and kill it, it will hunt you down and kill you. ― Flannery O'Connor

  I wake up the next morning and finally feel rested. I still ache, but at least my headache is gone. Probably from finally getting enough sleep. Memories from last night flood my mind and I look towards the other side of the bed, seeing it empty once again.

  I sigh, bummed that Easton can't seem to bare to spend the night with me. I finally thought that we were breaking ground last night, but I'm sure it was just manipulation on his part to get what he wants.

  I stretch and groan, working out the creaks in my back and testing out my soreness.

  Feeling well enough to move, I go over to my phone that's lying on my nightstand and turn on the screen, seeing multiple notifications.

  4 missed calls from Corey

  4 texts from Corey

  What the hell?

  Opening up the texts, I start reading them, which started last night.

  Corey: What's up? Do you want to do something tonight?

  Corey: Rose? Where are you?

  Corey: I hope you're not with those losers from Starbucks.

  Corey: Rose, come on babe. I miss you.

  Yuck. What is wrong with him? He has never been this needy before. I set my phone aside and make a note to call him later so he doesn't start blowing up my phone again.

  Walking out to the living room, I see that my mom is already awake. Thankfully, I don't see a glass of wine in sight.

  "Hey sleepy. How are you feeling this morning?" She asks, already dressed to the nines like she's still in Woodbury or something. Some things don't change, I guess.

  "A little bit better." I walk over to the kitchen and start rummaging through our cupboards in search for some breakfast.

  "Come sit down. Let me whip you up some of my famous pancakes."

  "Famous pancakes? Since when do you cook?"

  She looks appalled. "I cook!"

  "When?"

  "Well...well..." She sputters and I let out a pitiful laugh.

  "Yeah, that's what I thought. Our cooks had famous pancakes. You? Not so much. But by all means, go ahead and give it a whirl." I walk past her and go lay down on the couch while I hear her mumbling about ungrateful children.

  A short while later, mom yells to me to come eat.

  With a grumbling stomach, I walk over to a stack of pancakes and grab two for myself. "Why the hell did you make so many?"

  "I'm sorry, where is all this cursing coming from? You didn't grow up here, you know. This is only temporary until we can get back on our feet."

  I decide not to reply, digging into my pancakes. "Mmm, these are pretty good. Four stars." I smirk at her.

  "Four stars! I worked really hard on these. They are definitely five stars." I push the plate over to her and she takes a bite, chewing and then looking over at me. "Okay, four stars." I laugh at this and then she follows. And for the first time since moving here, it feels like we are finally getting along. This is how things used to be with us - almost like good friends. Now, we're lucky if we can handle being in the same room for an hour without ripping each other's throats to shreds.

  We hangout this way for a while, finally getting along and catching up on things we have been keeping from each other.

  Mom likes her job, and she's meeting some people that she says are really friendly. Her friends from Woodbury still aren't speaking to her. When she starts talking about this, she gets that look in her eyes and I know she is craving to numb her pain with alcohol.

  I tell her about Cara and how I didn't think I would meet a friend who I would really get along with here. Mom says she would like to meet her - but I shut that shit down before it can build into anything.

  I'm not going to let anyone meet my mom when she is in such a depressive state.

  Later in the afternoon, after going to the bathroom and I'm walking back into the kitchen, I see her finally giving in and grabbing a glass and her boxed wine.

  Sighing in disappointment, I yell to her from down the hall, "I'm going to go lay down for a bit, my muscles are starting to get cramped up."

  "Oh, okay, honey. Do you need anything?"

  "No, I'm just going to take some Ibuprophen and go take a nap."

  "All right, honey. I will come check on you in a little bit."

  I go to my room and shut my door, wishing that I had a lock on it so I can keep her out when she gets drunk. The one thing that would tip me over the edge would be for her to come barging in here rambling nonsense about the unfairness of her life when I'm in the middle of sleeping. I literally cannot bare to even look at her when she gets in that condition. She has no self-control lately when it comes to her wine.

  Laying down in bed, I grab my phone and see more notifications popped up.

  Two texts from Corey

  Jesus, will this guy leave me the hell alone?

  Corey: I need to see you.

  Corey: Fuck, Rose! Answer me!

  Shit, this must be serious. It takes a lot for Corey to curse, and even when he does, he very rarely will say fuck. I type out a halfhearted text just to get him off my back.

  Rose: I'm not feeling great. I will text you tomorrow and we can do something this week.

  I lay my phone down on my bed and roll over in an attempt to go to sleep when suddenly, my phone starts vibrating with a phone call.

  "For fucks sake, Corey if this is you, I'm going to lose it." Grabbing my phone, I see it's Cara and my anger subsides.

  "Hey, Cara. What's up?"

  I hear sniffles coming from the other end of the phone and my defenses immediately rise.

  "Cara? What is it?"

  "Can you come over?" She whispers in between hiccups.

  "Yeah, sure. Are you all right?"

  "No, not really."

  "What's wrong?" I ask as I get up and grab my car keys and purse, ready to head out the door.

  "I will tell you when you get here, okay? Please, just come now." Her voice breaks at the end, and I immediately want to kill whoever made my only friend cry.

  "I'm on my way."

  "Thank you." She clicks off the phone and as I'm about to leave, I remember telling my mom that I was going to take a nap. I'm not sure if she is going to want me to
leave tonight with how I came back the other day.

  Going to my bed, I shove some pillows underneath my blankets to make it look as similar to a sleeping body as I can recreate.

  Quietly walking over to the window, I slide open the glass and pull an Easton, leaping out into the night like this is the most normal thing ever.

  ◆◆◆

  Navigating to the other end of town later in the evening is something I never thought I would be doing when I woke up this morning. The homeless and the druggies start lingering outside their homes and on the street corners. I double check that my locks are locked even though I'm sure if someone wanted, they would be able to get to me with no issue.

  I keep an eye peeled for the homeless guy who attacked me outside the Pit. Every overweight, greasy looking guy makes my muscles seize up and I almost turn back around for home. I mean seriously, is this shit really worth my life?

  I sigh.

  Cara definitely came to my rescue when I needed her, and I really need to be a good friend and do the same.

  Pulling into the trailer park, I pass Easton's house on the way and breathe a sigh of relief when I don't see his dark, oversized truck parked anywhere.

  I park near Cara's trailer and walk up her rickety stairs, holding on the loose, warped railing that I'm sure would crumble if I put any real weight on it.

  As I'm about to knock, it swings open and reveals a puffy faced Cara. "Oh my God, what happened?" I run up to her in concern.

  She grabs on to my wrist and pulls me inside, looking around the outside of the trailer before she shuts the door and locks it. Turning towards me, she puts her hands on her face and tries to keep in her sobs with no success. She breaks down in front of me - my scrappy, scared of nothing friend, breaks down in sobs in front of me.

  "Cara, seriously. What is it? You're starting to freak me the hell out!"

  Sitting down next to me, she looks at the floor and explains. "Y-You know how I told you my step-dad would beat my ass if I got another truancy?" I nod my head, not understanding. She hasn't been truant at all since I started. "Well, by beat my ass, I meant literally. And he doesn't just do it if I'm truant. He more like... does it whenever his loser ass pleases."

  She chokes out another sob and my eyes trail across her body, not seeing any bruises. At least none that are visible. "So... did he do something to you? Today?"

  She nods her head yes.

  "What the hell happened?"

  She shrugs. "I don't know. I was just sitting in my room and he came barging in and yelling to me about doing the dishes and cleaning the house. I ran out to the kitchen to get them done so he wouldn't hurt me, and..." She chokes out a sob. "He started yelling at me that I was wearing slutty clothes, but I wasn't even doing anything besides laying in my room! And they're just shorts!" I nod my head in agreement, because they are in fact just shorts. "H-he grabbed the fucking wooden spoon and held me against the counter as he beat my ass." She puffs out a fake laugh. "Literally this time."

  "Wha...?"

  She stands up and turns around and pulls down her shorts, revealing dark, painful looking welts all across her butt. I gasp, not even believing what I'm seeing.

  I have never seen as many assaults in my entire life as I have since I moved here.

  "Shit, Cara. We have to go-"

  "No. No. Absolutely not. I only have the rest of this year before I can move away from here and get away from this psychopath forever." She lets out a huge breath. "I only have to make it a few more months. If the cops were to get involved, I would either be told I'm lying or they would take me away from here and put me in some foster care and I would fall behind in school and not be able to graduate on time!"

  "But-"

  "No, Rose. I didn't call you over here because I want to report it. I called you over here so you can help me forget. Please, help me forget?" She looks at me pleadingly, and I immediately know I will do just about anything to make my friend happy.

  "What do you have in mind?" I ask hesitantly.

  She gets up and walks in an awkward movement over the small kitchen and grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels. She looks in serious pain. "Drink with me?"

  "On a Sunday?" I groan.

  "What, are you a fucking nun?" She snarks.

  "No... Whatever. Pour me a glass, will you? Just... put something else in there, too. I won't be able to handle it straight up."

  "Wimp." She mumbles under her breath, but grabs a Coke from the refrigerator and starts mixing the drinks.

  While I wait, I look around and inspect her house.

  Calling it a house is a stretch, it's just about as small as Easton's, but this one is less updated. The couch I'm sitting on has an ugly floral pattern and some of the cushions have stains on them. I shift away from the unknown stains and squirt a little sanitizer on my hands from my purse.

  Can never be too safe.

  The television that's situated in the living room is outdated and small. An antenna sits on the top of it, and I'm guessing that means they don't get any cable.

  I almost laugh to myself then feel like a bitch. I've honestly never seen an antenna in real life before. I don't even know where you would buy one of those if you needed it.

  Overall, her trailer is almost like one big hallway. On one end sits her bedroom, bathroom and laundry area. The kitchen and living room take up a majority of the trailer. The kitchen sits at the far end and has some ungodly grass green countertops that make the kitchen look even smaller than it is. The counters are littered with food boxes and beer cans, and I cringe to think about all the germs that are festering inside of that pile of dishes in the kitchen sink.

  Yeah, I'm a germaphobe.

  Cara walks back over to me with two classes filled to the brim with a dark liquid. She walks over to an old school stereo system in the corner of the room and puts on some music before downing about half of her cup in one gulp.

  She's no longer crying, which is a good thing. But now I'm almost worried that she's drowning her sorrows with alcohol, and that's not something that I'm going to let happen. She will not become my mother.

  "Whoa, slow down. No fun in drinking if it leads to passing out within an hour."

  She looks at me and gives me a look that cuts right into me. Slinking back into the couch, I'm worried that the scrappy side of Cara is going to lash out on me.

  "Oh, come on, Rose. Live a little. Just let go for once, would you? Just one night?" She gives me puppy dog eyes and a pouty lip, and I instantly give in, bringing my glass up and taking a sip, wincing at the amount of alcohol she poured into my glass.

  "Hell yeah. Tonight – tonight we are going to get down and finally get you to let loose for once in your life!" She screams, shaking her ass to the beat of the music.

  "Hey! I let loose." I scoff.

  "Huh, yeah, okay. Miss Priss from Woodbury wouldn't know what a good time was if it bit her in the ass."

  "Hey!" I stand up and walk over to her. "Take that back! I'm not some stuck up bitch. I just didn't grow up like…" I wave my hand around.

  "Yeah, I know. Poor. Just say it. We're all poor here. But the good thing is, is that we don't give a flying fuck! Live it, love it, and repeat. Now get your ass over here and loosen up."

  I'm a little affronted by her thinking I'm some snob, and I decide to prove her wrong. Taking a larger gulp, I set my glass down and start shaking my ass next to her, and together we start dancing the night away.

  We both look like a pile of awkward limbs, I'm sure. With the bruises covering our bodies, it's hard to dance as good as we're both capable of. But, we're not going to let the pain get in the way of a good time.

  "Yes, finally!" She shouts, going to crank up the stereo as loud as it will go. It feels like the heavy bass is shaking the plaster of these thin walls.

  We dance like this for a while - so long that I even lose track of time. We are both on our second drink – with about three fourths alcohol and one fourth soda - so we are both feeling fairly drunk
at this point.

  Suddenly, there is a pounding on the front door, making us each jump about a foot into the air.

  I walk up to her and whisper in her ear, "Who do you think it is? Is it your step-dad?"

  "No, he has a key. He would have already burned this house down if he heard me blaring the music like this. With us in it, too..."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rose

  There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear. ― Richelle Goodrich

  The door thumps again and I swear I can feel each pound in the pit of my stomach.

  Feeling too intoxicated to even deal with the rude hecklers, I turn the music up and go back to dancing. Closing my eyes, I shout, "Ignore them, Cara. They will go away eventually."

  "No, I won't." Comes a deep voice from behind me. I scream and cover myself.

  See, from dancing and drinking so for so long, I got sweaty and Cara let me borrow some of her shorts. Because she is about 5'1 and I'm about 5'6, these shorts let about half of my ass hang out of the bottom.

  And that is directly where Easton's eyes have landed.

  I cover my ass and back away from him. "Uh, seriously? What the hell are you doing here?"

  He tilts his head to the side as he slowly stalks towards me. "What am I doing here? In my park? What are you doing here, not resting at home?"

  "Cara needed me, so I came over." I look over at her and see both Jackson and Logan standing over her with murder covering their faces. Not because we decided to have a mini-party. No, it's because they saw the welts on her ass and look about moments from going Ed Gein on someone. Lampshade style.

  "Are you fucking shitting me!" Logan shouts, and this is officially the angriest I have ever seen him.

  Easton's body stiffens as he notices his friend's aggression. He gives me a look to stay put and walks over to them. I watch as Logan and Jackson explain to Easton what happened. Cara just sits in the corner with her head down. As each moment passes, Easton's body coils tighter and tighter to the point where I'm almost afraid to be in the same trailer as him. He looks like he is about to snap.