Page 61 of Jar of Hearts
“What did you do?” Geo’s gaze focused on Calvin once again. “This is… this is not okay.”
She struggled to sit up. Her skull was pounding, like someone was taking a basketball and throwing it at her head, over and over again.
“He wouldn’t stop,” Angela finally said, looking at Geo, her eyes wide and her voice full of shock. “I said no, I asked him to stop, he wouldn’t stop—”
“Shut up, bitch,” Calvin said to her. “She wanted it,” he said again to Geo. On the love seat, her friend’s sobs grew louder, deeper. “Your friend is a whore. It shouldn’t have happened, but she got me so worked up there was no way I could—”
“You raped me!” Angela’s scream was like a bolt of lightning, cutting through the air powerfully and without warning. “You fucking raped me, you sick sonofabitch!”
Geo rubbed the spot on her temple where her headache was getting worse. Calvin was staring at Angela, his lips curled up, his eyes narrow, his hands clenched. Geo recognized that look. She had seen it before and she knew exactly what it meant. Angela had to stop screaming. The screaming would make it worse. She needed to warn her friend, but her brain was working in slow motion, and the words wouldn’t come together.
“Shut up,” Calvin said to Angela. “You’re a fucking whore, and you asked for it—”
“I didn’t ask for it! You raped me, you animal!” Angela’s screams were feral. She yanked her dress down over her thighs, trying to sit up on the couch. Her hair was stringy, falling over her face in a tangled mess. Her makeup was smudged, her eyeliner and mascara blending together in circles under her eyes. “You’re a sick fuck! You rapedme, you hurt me, you’re a disgusting sonofabitch and I’m going to call the police and you’re going to rot in jail, you fucking sick fuck—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because Calvin punched her in the face. She fell back into the sofa, dazed, but seemed to come to a couple of seconds later. She leapt off the couch with surprising force and made a run for the door. Before she could get there, Calvin was on top of her once again. Only this time his hands were around her throat from behind, squeezing. She managed to wriggle away, but he grabbed her again, pulling her back by the hair, snapping her head back. He yanked his belt out of his jeans, then wrapped it around her neck and pulled, one knee on Angela’s back as he held her down. Her friend’s nails scratched furiously at Calvin’s arms, her belly pressed into the carpet, her legs kicking and flailing in the air like she was swimming.
It was all happening so fast, it didn’t seem real.
“Calvin, stop,” Geo said, getting up off the bed. She managed to plant both feet on the floor, but when she took a step forward she stumbled. “Calvin, please.Stop.”
He didn’t hear her, or he didn’t care, but either way, he didn’t stop. Angela’s eyes bulged, her legs still jerking, but the fight was going out of her.
Geo took another step forward, but the room spun mercilessly and she fell. She looked up from the floor as her friend stopped struggling. Still, Calvin held on for a moment longer, until finally letting go, his arms dropping at his sides, the belt still clenched in one fist.
Angela didn’t move. Her head was turned unnaturally to one side, her cheek resting on the carpet, her lips parted. A line of drool oozed out onto her chin. Her eyes were wide open and utterly blank. She looked like a life-sized rag doll someone had tossed onto the floor with abandon.
Geo turned her head to the side and vomited.
“Help me with her,” Calvin said to Geo, stepping over Angela. He pulled the comforter off the bed and spread it onto the floor. “Come on, help me.”
“What are you doing?” Geo’s stomach was heaving. Beside her, the mound of vomit was filling up the small apartment with a disgusting reek. Calvin didn’t seem to notice. The smell of it made her want to retch again, and she forced herself to stand up. “You hurt her. We have to call 911. We have to call an ambulance.”
“She’s dead.”
“She’s not dead!” Geo shrieked.
The idea was absolutely absurd. Of course her best friend wasn’t dead. That wasn’t possible. Angela Wong was a cheerleader, a good student, universally admired by everyone at St. Martin’s High School. She’d been alive and sitting on Mike Bennett’s lap a few hours ago, dancing with Geo, laughing, being Angela, beingalive. There was no fucking way she could be dead.
No.No.
But yet there Angela was, sprawled out on the floor, not moving.
Yes. Oh god. Yes. Angela was dead. Because Calvin had killed her. After he raped her.
Geo vomited again, emptying what was left in her stomach.
She needed to get out of here. She needed to get help. She needed to tell someone.
“You’re in this too,” Calvin said, as if he’d read her mind. He picked Angela up with a grunt, moving her limp body onto one side of the blanket, and began to roll her up. Nonsensically, Geo was reminded of the home economics class she and Angela had taken in seventh grade, when they’d learned to make spring rolls.
“We have to call the police,” Geo said, and for the first time that night, her voice sounded coherent. “Where’s your phone?”
“If you call the police we’ll both go to jail.” Sweat was beading around Calvin’s hairline as he grunted with exertion. “You did this, too. You brought her here.”
“This isn’t my fault!”
“It’sallyour fault,” he said, pointing at her. On reflex, she cringed. “You brought her here, the both of you hardly wearing anything, andshe’s dancing all over me, rubbing herself all over me like the fucking slut she is—”
