Page 24 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
Kali wrenches the knife out as my mind explodes into splotches of white. I’ve never felt such pain before, but I can’t lose to her, this pathetic copycat. This nobody. She’s stolen from me for the last time; I will not let her have Aaron.
I will not let her win.
My bloody fingers wrap her wrist as she tries to stab me again. Not only do I have the advantage of gravity, but I’m also much, much stronger.
I’m also bleeding like fucking crazy.
But I can’t let things end this way.
I can’t let any of these sad, sorry, wretched people get to me.
Coraleigh was a bully with a narcissist complex. She was nothing; she died like nothing. Like a side character whose story was never all that interesting to begin with. Eric and his father were monsters, so they were put in the ground where they belong. The Thing … the beast responsible for taking away the most important person in my life, he was left to die alone in the dark.
I won’t let these people make me feel like shit, not anymore. As Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”
Well, guess what? I don’t consent to this shit, not anymore.
I manage to get the knife from Kali at about the same time that she shoves me off of her and into the blackberry bushes. I’m on my feet, quick. Too quick, maybe, because everything is spinning. When I look down, I see the pink dress is now almost entirely red. Crimson. Shrouded in death.
I look back up.
Kali swipes at her mouth with her hand, circling me. I keep her in my sights as she moves, her little mind working as those tiny, vicious eyes of hers narrow with spite. I briefly consider taking out my own knife, the one strapped to my thigh, but wielding a single blade is hard enough. Having two won’t help me.
“I wish I could describe the look of bliss on Aaron’s face when I sunk that big dick of his into me,” she says, and I grit my teeth, fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife. When I slit her throat, that second bloody smile that opens up on her neck will mirror my own grin of triumph.
I never thought I’d be the sort of person who revels in bloodshed and pain, but life gave me both of those things in spades. My choice was to return it quid pro quo or let it consume me. I’ve chosen the former.
“You only wish you’d been able to snag a man like Aaron Fadler,” I tell her, standing up straight. Blood drip, drip, drops onto the leaves near my bare feet. I ignore it. Might pay for that later, but I’m too wrapped up in my own finale to pay attention to my fragile mortality. “And yet, here I am with not one, not two, but five men at my beck and call.” I lift the knife up for inspection, pressing a finger to the tip until a drop of ruby red wells up.
Kali has a poor estimation of self-worth, one framed by men with greedy hands and hungry lips. She craves attention and affection, even if it’s all bullshit, even if it’s bought with a tight, wet pussy and a face that’s just a tad on the young side. She sidled up to a pedophile because she was so greedy and desperate. She’s tried—on more than one occasion—to wear my skin like a suit.
Tonight, she pays for pushing too hard.
Some things break when you put too much pressure on them, but those shards they break into can be twice as deadly.
“You think I’m jealous that you’ve made a whore out of yourself?” Kali asks, but I just look up and smile at her through moonlight and bullshit. I’m worried about Hael, but only in the way that someone who’s just freshly fallen in love might feel. Of course I’m worried about him, but I know he can handle his own shit.
And me, I can handle mine.
“You can slut-shame me all you want, Kali. That’s okay. You’re a mean girl, that’s your identity. You’re a fucked-up narcissist with a troubled past. But I don’t make allowances for past wrongs; you are what you’ve become. And that, my dear, is nothing short of monstrous.”
Kali laughs, harsh and raucous, coming to a stop beside a sapling. It’s as skinny as she is, and just as likely to suffocate down here in the shadows of the larger trees. Some of them are over a hundred years old, just barely managing to escape the logger’s axe. In the last few years, wildfires have ravaged this area, creeping closer and closer to town. They’ve escaped that, too, but only by the grace of some unforgiving god.
