Lena pulled out her history book and added it to the pile in the crook of her arm, restlessly shuffling the foot not strapped in a walking boot. It was her first day back after being released from the hospital, and she had never been so happy to be at school.
"You're doing well."
Jason stopped next to her, dressed in baggy black jeans, a wine red tank top and spotless white sneakers. His hair was shorter, messy like he'd just rolled out of bed; she licked her lips, thinking he looked unbearably sexy.
"Uh, hey," she smiled nervously. "H-How's it going?"
His gaze darted to a random spot behind her.
"I've been meaning to talk to you," he said quietly, then looked at her. "About what happened at the hospital."
She went stiff, shutting her locker with more force than needed.
"Don't worry about it," she said tightly. "It's fine."
He walked with her, still looking unsure.
"What have I missed the last couple weeks?" she went on flatly, as they stopped outside Ms. Conny's class. He shrugged.
"Just a lot of review, from what I've heard," he drummed his fingers on his thigh. "You sure everything's okay?"
She scoffed.
"I told you, it's fine," she glared at him. "Why wouldn't it be?"
He frowned, and her heart sank a bit.
"Lena," he sounded disappointed, hurt. "You know I can tell when you're lying."
She pressed her lips tightly together.
"It's not a big deal," her voice was still harsh. "I'd tell you if something was wrong."
She left him in the hall, shoving down the guilt that bit at her.
He just saved my life, she tried to reason to herself. I can't tell him about this, I just can't!
She sat down at the back of the room and tried to focus on the lesson, zoning out when it did end up just being review.
I really, really like him, she'd stopped trying to fight it in the hospital, since she hadn't had much to do besides think. And I know he likes me, but I also know it won't go anywhere, he's been through too much already.
She still wasn't exactly sure what had happened to him, but the details she'd gathered so far painted a hell that swallowed hers whole. She messed absently with her pencil, then jotted down random crap in her notebook to make it look like she was paying attention.
She'd started remembering what had happened after her abduction, at least what she'd been conscious for. The memories had broken free of the fog in her brain when she had learned, and of all the things that could have happened, she wondered why it had to be that.
He looked so worried, though, she thought helplessly. And I know I should tell him, but he'd probably hate me after!
She dropped her pencil, groaning softly as she pressed her face into her arms.
What am I going to do?
<<<>>>
Coach Willis, a bulky woman with a year-round tan and cropped black hair, finished separating the rest of the girls, then turned back to Lena and gave her a brief once-over. Lena wasn't sure why she'd bothered changing into her uniform, since she couldn't participate—she supposed if there was anything good to come out of this, it was being able to skip out on softball.
"Don't want you messing yourself up any more," she pointed a thick finger at the edge of the field, waterlogged from the past several days of on-and-off rain. "Might as well park it."
Lena heaved a sigh of relief, hobbled to the sun-warmed metal bleachers and stretched out on the bottom row; she'd just woken up from a doze when a shadow passed over her, her stomach tightening at Jason's small laugh.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Better than running around in the mud," she sat up when he moved next to her, wiping sweat from his forehead. The boys' class was using the next field for their soccer unit, and as usual, Ty was dominating. Lena looked anywhere but Jason, not wanting him to see the worry and fear she knew filled her eyes.
"You've barely glanced at me all day," he said at last. "What's going on?"
She snorted.
"You were the one acting weird this morning," she reminded him, still not facing him. "And I already said I don't want to talk about it."
He was quiet for a while, then brushed her wrist, making her flinch.
"I know you haven't stopped thinking about what happened to you," he stated the obvious. She scoffed.
"I'm just an open book to you, aren't I?"
She got up, ready to storm away when he took her hand. It took more than she thought to keep from breaking down and pressing her face into his chest, sobbing and shaking as she told him everything.
"You've been through a lot of shit lately," his grip tightened. "You don't have to keep everything bottled up like this."
She nearly scoffed again at the irony.
I could say the same thing about you.
"I'm not bottling anything up," she sat back down, the fingers on her left hand splayed awkwardly on the bench because of her cast, and finally looked at him. "Why can't you just leave it alone?"
He kept hold of her hand, leaned in close and lowered his voice.
"Why can't you just let people worry about you?"
She couldn't hold back the scoff this time.
"I could ask you the same thing," she tugged her hand away when Coach Willis blew her whistle, signaling it was time to hit the showers. Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them away. "Look, I know you're just trying to help, but I really can't be around you right now. I'm sorry, Jason."
She could feel his stare burning into her back as she hurried off, her heart twisting and dropping to her stomach with a hollow thud.
I can't let him find out about this, she told herself. He can't know, he just can't!
<<<>>>
Is she really watching that again?
Lance left his sub on the kitchen counter and stared into the living room. Stephanie had been glued to the couch every time he'd been to their dad's in the last few weeks, watching the news story she'd recorded almost a month ago on mute. Their mother was the town's biggest news host, and he recognized the clip that signaled her weekly coverage of the recent murders. They'd been happening at random intervals for years, but no one had any idea who might be behind them, and the police didn't seem interested in trying to solve the cases at all.
He was about to go back to his lunch when a picture flashed on screen—Lena sitting in a wheelchair in front of Second Chance, her smile tight and angry. The blond woman crouching a bit to hug her had the same expression, and the look in her eyes sent ice down his spine.
"I can't believe this," Stephanie muttered furiously, clutching the pillow in her lap. "How the hell could he do this to me?"
Lance stepped closer, careful to stay out of her sight.
"Falling in that damn pit should've killed her," she went on through gritted teeth, nearly rocking on the cushion. "I told them to make sure she was dead! I can't believe this!"
He stopped cold. He could not have just heard that right.
"Guess I'll just have to take care of that bitch myself," she wrenched open the side table drawer and pulled out their father's gun, nearly dropping it when Lance snatched her wrist.
"Dad's been looking for that all weekend," he said, fighting to keep his tone easy. "Weird that you knew exactly where it was."
She glared at him, and he tightened his grip when she tried to shake him off.
"You're also really interested in that old news story," he nodded at the massive flatscreen. The image had changed to a shot of ceiling damage from a burst pipe at the town's library. "Question is, why?"
She glowered at his fingers.
"A current events project for government," she snapped. "Now let go of me!"
He chuckled harshly.
"You know I don't believe that," he snatched the gun from her and threw it in their grandmother's giant knitting basket, out of her reach unless she got past him. "What have you been planning?"
The fear that had leaked into her eyes quickly drained, replaced with the coldest, darkest rage he had ever seen.
"I'm going to kill that bitch!" she shouted. "She ruined my life!"
She tried to get loose again, and he dragged her around the couch before slamming her against the wall. His eyes blazed as his hands clamped around her neck.
"She never did a damn thing to you," he growled, ignoring the sting as she clawed at his wrists. "You're just a pathetic, jealous little—"
He was drowned out by her shriek, and he released her as a sharp pain shot through his arm. He stared at the penknife stuck in his bicep, then snatched her hair as she tried to shove past him. She gagged when he jammed a knee into her back, collapsing breathless on the floor; he planted a boot on her spine to keep her there.
"You're not going anywhere, sis," he snarled quietly, pushing his weight into her back. "Not until you tell me what the fuck you did to Lena!"
She squirmed weakly, panting as she glared at him over her shoulder.
"I didn't do anything," she gasped, her tone self-righteous. "Eric called me after he dumped her in that stupid hole, saying how good it felt to screw her!"
He stared blankly at her, then clenched his eyes shut.
"You know I don't believe that," he glowered at her again. He bent down and grabbed her wrists, yanking her to her feet. She threw back her head to break his nose. He dodged it, using the opportunity to knock her out, keeping her propped limply against his side as he reached for his phone.
She's not getting away with this!
<<<>>>
Lance watched as Stephanie woke up, shivering on the thin, lumpy mattress and shielding her eyes from the sunlight piercing through the high window across from her narrow cot, bolted to the wall and floor. The window was too small for anyone to get through, set with thick bars that had a metal grate welded to them on the outside. It looked over the muddy exercise yard, scattered with dirty gray clumps of melting snow. The tall cement brick fence glittered with embedded shards of broken glass, topped with curling, tangled strands of black razor wire. He could just see the corner of a watch tower at the edge of the view. The concrete walls of her little cell were chipped, scratched and scribbled on, a record of all the lowlifes who'd been there before her.
"Never thought you'd end up here, did you?" he stood in the wide, sterile hallway, wishing he couldn't smell the inmate in the cell behind him, slumped and snoring against the barred door. Stephanie glared hatefully at him.
"How the hell did I get here?" she demanded, sitting stiffly on the edge of the cot. He snorted.
"How do you think? I dragged your ass here after you assaulted me."
He flashed the bandage on his arm, wincing when he saw the dried line of blood at the center, then shoved his hands in his pockets. She scoffed.
"What the hell are you talking about?" she crossed her arms. "I didn't do anything!"
He stared at her, trying to channel Jason's cold, impassive mask.
"I called Eric," he stated flatly. "He sold you out."
She went stiff, then pounded the mattress with her fists.
"That fucking coward," she seethed irately. "I said he'd join her in that stupid pit if he squealed, and now I'm stuck in this shithole!"
Lance shrugged, letting the smallest hint of a smug smile come to his lips.
"You could have avoided all this," he said. "All you had to do was leave Lena alone."
"As if!" she jumped to her feet. "That little slut ruined my life. She deserved everything she got!"
He couldn't stand the look on her face as she listed out all the ways Lena had ruined things with her; the pride and self-righteousness in her voice made his gut twist. She'd been like this since Jason had first rejected her when she'd been in ninth grade, and while he'd had his suspicions, he'd never thought she'd actually go to this length to get what she wanted. He forced himself to listen as she outlined every phase of the plan, never once showing an ounce of remorse.
"How long am I going to be stuck here?" she asked when she'd finished. "I have to help set up for the art show at school tomorrow!"
His eyes narrowed as he pulled his hand from his pocket, showing her their mother's audio recorder, then played back the beginning of what she had just told him.
"With any luck, you'll be 'stuck here' for the rest of your life."
<<<>>>
Jason rolled out from under the scarlet Thunderbird he'd been working on, his coveralls splashed with oil and grease. He wiped his hands on the stained, ratty towel thrown over his tool box before pulling out his earbuds, startling and then grinning sheepishly when he noticed Luca glaring impatiently down at him.
"Uh, hey, zio," he got to his feet, making a half-hearted effort to clean himself off. The hair on his neck stood on end when he saw Lance standing behind the man, and the terrified look on his friend's pale face. "What's going on?"
Luca reached up and gripped his shoulder.
"You're on break, kid," there was an underlying fear in the calm words; Jason swallowed hard as the old man walked off.
"It's Lena," Lance nodded toward Luca's empty office. Jason shut the door behind them as Lance set his backpack on the paper-strewn desk, then took his phone from the front pocket. "Her head kidnapper confessed, and I made a copy before I handed my mom's recorder to the cops."
He brought up a video, cranked the volume, and hit play.
"I called Eric," it was a bit muffled, but clear enough. "He sold you out."
"That fucking coward," there was no mistaking Stephanie's angry screech. "I said he'd join her in that stupid pit if he squealed, and now I'm stuck in this shithole!"
Jason's jaw tightened as it continued, his fists clenched and shaking at his sides. The air suddenly felt dry, several papers rustling on the desk.
"Where is she?" he growled when it ended. Lance gulped.
"I-In a cell," he rubbed a stained bandage on his arm. "I caught her watching the news story about it, saying she'd have to finish the job herself. When I confronted her, she stabbed me."
Jason couldn't understand how they'd never made the connection. While Stephanie wasn't insane enough to come up with a plan like this, at least on her own, she was the only one manipulative enough to get anyone to go along with it. What made it worse was that she hadn't always been that way—what the hell had happened to the fun, goofy girl he'd met on their family's boat? He pushed out a sigh, knowing what happened when he lost his temper, and forced himself to calm down.
"What about Eric?" his voice was tight and quiet. Lance tucked his phone in his backpack.
"I knew you'd want to deal with him first," he dug around in the largest pocket. "I found this in Stephanie's room at our dad's place, she must have kept it as some kind of trophy."
He held out a plain box, and Jason wiped his hands on his coveralls before taking it. His eyes widened when he saw Lena carved crudely inside the lid where the red velvet lining had peeled away from the lacquered wood.
"I'll give it to Lena next time I see her," he set it on the desk. "I mean, if it happens any time soon."
Lance looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
Jason shrugged, then his shoulders slumped.
"She said she couldn't be around me, but wouldn't say why," it still hurt to think about, but he supposed he deserved it, after how he had treated her. Lance zipped his backpack and curled the strap over his shoulder.
"I'll get Chad to talk to her, I doubt Autumn or Ty could get it out of her."
They shared their old handshake, and he tightened his grip before letting go.
"Kick that guy's ass for her."
Jason nodded.
"You can count on it."
<<<>>>
Eric plopped down on the cheap bench in the locker room, wishing he'd remembered they'd be stuck doing the President's Fitness Test in PE today. He took a long swig from his water bottle, capped it and dropped it in his backpack. He tensed when the lock clicked, hadn't he been alone just a second ago? His stomach dropped when Jason turned the corner, his face blank, his eyes icy.
"I thought you were low before," his voice was quiet, empty. "But this takes it to a whole new level."
He crossed the room with slow, deliberate strides.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," he went on, still deathly calm. "You thought you could get away with it, didn't you?"
Eric gulped. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, as burning cold shocks shot down his back.
"G-Get away with what?"
Jason chuckled darkly, then grabbed his shirt, yanking him to his feet. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed, his stare cutting.
"You. Raped. My. Girl."
Eric went stiff.
"No, I didn't," he shook his head, grabbing Jason's wrists. "I-I didn't—!"
"Cut the bullshit!" Jason shoved him against the lockers. "Stephanie sold you out, dumbass!"
He stopped struggling, knowing Jason was right. Stephanie had never thought twice about passing the blame, if it meant protecting herself. He let go of Jason's wrists and let his hands drop to his sides.
"She said she'd kill me if I didn't do it," he knew it sounded pathetic. "That she'd throw me in that same pit she made us leave Lena in!"
Jason's grip loosened the slightest bit. Was it possible the guy actually felt sorry for him? He wanted to tell the truth, that he had despised every second, but his jaw locked, and he felt that twisted part of his brain take over, the dark voice in his head he had fought against for as long as he could remember.
"Bitch had no idea what she was doing," he couldn't believe it, he was actually laughing! "It was almost like fucking a sixth grader."
He lowered his voice, feeling his lips curl in a smug grin.
"She didn't fight," he went on slowly. "She let me screw her, almost like she wanted it."
Jason's jaw clenched, and his knuckles went white.
"Shut up."
"It was so weird," Eric kept talking. Why the hell couldn't he stop this? "I could hear her screaming, begging me to keep hurting her like that."
Jason's hands shook, and it felt like the air was filled with electricity. Eric heard himself laugh again.
"You should've seen her face when I finished," he went on. "Like she still wanted more."
"Shut up!" Jason threw him back against the lockers, the lights overhead flickering wildly. The rage in his eyes was clashing with fear. "She's not like that!"
Eric felt lower than dirt, but he was powerless to control it, he always had been.
"You don't know that for sure."
Jason shook his head quickly. He stepped back, letting Eric go.
"She's not like that," he sounded desperate to convince himself. "She'd never want that!"
Eric didn't realize he'd thrown a punch until Jason dodged it, staring at him in shock.
"I'm going to kill you," he shouted. What the hell was he doing? "That's the only way to keep you away from Stephanie!"
Jason grunted when he landed a hard blow to his shoulder.
"What are you talking about?" he got in a sharp jab to Eric's chin, then a sucker punch to his gut. It felt like being hit with a brick. "I never touched her!"
Eric grabbed his stomach, panting as he glared at the younger boy through sweat-soaked brown hair. Jason sidestepped his charge easily, and the momentum sent him crashing into the lockers.
"Whatever Stephanie told you was a lie," Jason shouted. "That's all she ever does!"
Eric staggered to his feet, then ran forward again, only for Jason's fist to connect neatly with his cheek.
"I didn't want to hurt you," he said flatly. "But it looks like the only way you'll listen."
He caught Eric's wrist, twisting his arm behind his back as he forced him to his knees. The hold tightened the more Eric fought, until a wet pop cut through his pained cries. He stumbled when Jason shoved him away, his eyes misting as he clutched the limb hanging uselessly at his side. Jason stared at him with icy contempt, pierced with the smallest shard of pity.
"Stephanie's been using you right from the start," he said harshly. "She never gave a shit about you!"
Eric froze, the words breaking through the fog that had filled his mind. He didn't want to believe it, that the girl he had loved for so long only saw him as a tool, muscle to manipulate in order to get what she really wanted.
"Lena doesn't give up," Jason went on, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "And that makes her a threat."
Eric shrank away when he came closer, going stiff when the other boy knelt, crying out as he quickly popped his shoulder back into place. They'd almost been friends at one point, he remembered, before Stephanie had lost her mind; Eric turned away, his voice breaking as tears slipped down his cheeks.
"I-I'm sorry," he muttered brokenly. "I'm so sorry!"
Jason looked at him, then sighed.
"Lena's the one you should really be saying that to," he got up and went for the door. He paused, his fingers tight on the wall. "And next time, pick your side more carefully."
He stalked out and threw the lock, and the clack when the door fell closed echoed through the empty room.
<<<>>>
Lena grunted when her ankle gave out again, sending her sprawling to the rough track. It had only been a week since she'd gotten her casts taken off, and she was already tired of having to ease back into things.
Chad jogged over and helped her up, wincing when he saw the bloody scrape on her knee.
"That looks like it hurts."
She leaned on him as she limped to the fence, then plopped down against it, reaching back to fix her ever-loosening ponytail.
"I'm used to it," she answered, letting her hands drop in her lap. "I've always been a klutzy runner, it's why I never did track."
He chuckled.
"You just need some more practice," he sat next to her and pulled a crumpled tissue from his pocket. "No one's perfect the first time out."
She huffed.
"Speak for yourself," she took the tissue and pressed it to her knee. From what she'd heard, he'd been a track and field star since sixth grade. "You don't have lead feet."
He laughed again, then sat back and stretched out his legs. They were lean, tanned and muscular, just like the rest of him.
"You always come out here alone?" she asked, hoping to get her mind off the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She'd been dealing with those since Jason had walked out on her at the hospital, Chad having visited her the most before she'd been cleared to go home. He shrugged.
"I do best when I think no one's watching," he flashed a smile, then winked at her. "Less chance of a cute girl distracting me."
Lena blushed; he could be pretty charming when he tried.
"What got you started on it?"
He hummed thoughtfully, ruffling his hair.
"I don't like soccer or baseball," he said at last. "And it sure beats that lacrosse crap Jason does."
She readjusted the wad, watching as the pale pink paper was stained crimson. She'd joined the rest of the gang at several of the lacrosse team's home games, marveling at the speed and skill Jason showed on the field. It had amazed her how aggressive he was, when he was usually so sweet and gentle.
"Lance and I keep asking ourselves why he joined the team, since he usually hates it when people see him like that," Chad shuddered a bit. "He's pretty scary when he gets pissed, but it takes a lot for him to get to that point."
"Oh," she turned away, stared at her ankle, then her wrist. A little over two months had passed since she'd dragged herself out of that pit, and just the thought of those few days still gave her nightmares.
"Keeping it to yourself won't help anything," he said suddenly. "You need to tell someone."
She shook her head.
"I can't," her voice cracked.
"Why not?"
She shook her head again, and her chin quivered.
"Because it would just make things worse!"
She jumped up and tried to bolt, barely getting a step before he snatched her hand.
"Lena, you're not making sense," he pulled her back toward him. "Why would it make things worse?"
She buried her face in her free hand, sinking to her knees as she sobbed; he knelt and hugged her, letting her cry into his thin gray shirt.
"I-I can't tell Jason," she stuttered, her words muffled. "I just can't!"
"Tell him what?" he took her shoulders, looking down at her. "Lena, what are you talking about?"
She sniffled, taking several shaking breaths.
"Because I'm pregnant!"
<<<>>>
Eric stopped short, gaping through the fence at the track. He'd cut through the baseball field on his way home, to find the water bottle he'd left in the dugout after practice. Now it dropped from his hand, the loose lid popping off, warm water splashing his sandal as he tried to process Lena's words. He couldn't have heard that right!
That's crazy, he stepped back; it wasn't possible, he'd taken every precaution in the book! This can't be happening!
He sprinted off before he could hear anything else; Stephanie would kill him for this, he just knew it. He ran until he couldn't see the school, sweat stinging his eyes as he stumbled to a stop to catch his breath.
It's mine, he thought, horrified. Oh, God, I know it is!
As if what he'd already put Lena through hadn't been enough, now she had this to deal with. It was so unfair; she didn't deserve any of it!
Then why'd you agree to do it?
He stopped cold—why had he agreed? Because of his feelings for Stephanie? Because she'd threatened to end his own miserable life if he said no? Every reason that came to mind made him feel worse, like the scum he knew he was. There had to be some way to fix it, he thought frantically, there just had to be.
But what, he asked himself. What could I do?
He thought back to his fight with Jason, grabbing his sore shoulder as fresh fear coursed through him. They'd known each other their whole lives, and he'd never seen Jason so angry. A dislocated arm would be the least of his problems if he found out, and he would deserve every second.
I'm sorry, Lena. He gulped, keeping his back to the school. I'm so sorry. I'll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.
<<<>>>
Lena shied away from Chad after her admission, hating the stunned look on his face.
"Are you sure?" he asked haltingly. She nodded, waiting for him to say something, anything else.
"I…don't really know what to say," he shoved out a breath. "Have you told anyone else?"
"No," she sat back down, pulling her knees to her chest. "I don't want anyone else to know."
"Why not?" he got on his knees next to her. She scoffed.
"If I told Lance or Autumn, the whole island would know by tomorrow, Ty would tell me to keep it and Jason would…" she trailed off, crying again as she buried her face in her arms. "Jason would hate me!"
Chad took her shoulder.
"What the hell gave you that idea?"
She sucked in a breath.
"What other reaction is there?" she demanded brokenly, glaring tearfully at him. "It's my fault it happened!"
He stared at her, then scowled.
"Did you agree to go with whoever showed up at your door?"
She sniffled, half-heartedly wiping her eyes.
"Well, no…"
"And did you ask for what happened to you after?"
"No, but—"
"'But' nothing," he gripped her arms. "You didn't ask for any of it, so how could any of it be your fault?"
She gaped at him, then threw herself back at his chest, hugging him tightly as she sobbed weeks' worth of fear and pain into his shirt.
"None of this is your fault," he repeated softly, before tilting her chin back. "The only guilty ones here are the assholes who did this to you."
She hiccuped.
"Y-You really think so?"
"I know it," he ran a thumb lightly over her wet cheek, then leaned forward, gently kissing her. She jerked back, stunned.
"Chad, what," she faltered stupidly. "What was that?"
He gazed at her, and a hint of red touched his face.
"I know you and J are into each other," he said quietly. "But I really like you, too."
He moved to kiss her again, and she wasn't sure why she returned it, but her hand slipped to the back of his neck, her fingers combing through his short blond hair. He went stiff when she licked his lip, and he pulled away.
"You sure you don't want to talk about what else happened?" he asked. She shook her head, knowing she looked at hurt as she felt. Had he really just said all of that to make her confess?
"No," she got to her feet, her fists clenching before going limp at her sides. "I want to forget it ever happened."
She jogged away, the bloodied tissue falling to the sun-warmed track.