Page 1 of Payback
Prologue
-Jared-
My belongings lay strewn across the ground. My backpack’s contents were emptied, scattered haphazardly before it was thrown at me. It rested atop me, not causing physical pain, but serving as a painful reminder of my insignificance. None of the items in that bag held any value for them, unlike what they meant to me. To them,Ibarely held any worth. I was aware that if I wasn’t such an easy target, I would hold no value whatsoever. So was I supposed to feel grateful for lying here, a pounding ache in my wrist from the shock of the abrupt fall? Perhaps. At least their bullying made me somewhat of an interest, although I had to endure their harsh words, their blows, and their humiliation. Yet, could it be any worse than the environment I faced at home? If I were to disappear without a word, no one would notice my absence. However, at least my tormentors would remember me as the easy target.What a legacy,I mused mockingly, observing my scattered papers taking flight, the wind becoming an accomplice in their taunting dance. I shifted slightly, gazing upward at the towering football players, their eyes fixed on my scrawny form below. However, they weren’t the masterminds behind the relentless pranks that befell me. They merely executed orders—setting my belongings ablaze, hiding them, locking me in confined spaces, even subjecting me to dunkings in toilet water—all at someone else’s bidding. Those monkeys struggled to string together a coherent thought without immense strain. No, it was the malevolent beauty looming behind them, a sinister grin playing on her lips and a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, who had orchestrated my predicament. She was the mastermind, the evil leader.
Those who believed women incapable of leadership hadn’t encountered Alison Brown. They remained oblivious to the crushing weight of slowly crumbling beneath her heel while she surveyed her handiwork with a smirk. She ruled over the school like a tyrannical empress, skilled in eliciting affection from the right people to maintain her unbridled authority. The fact that her wealthy parents were ever-ready to sweep away any complaints didn’t work in my favor. Some might question why I tolerated this treatment. Why didn’t I confide in a teacher? But that idea proved futile. Alison was adept at spinning the situation as a misunderstanding or convincing her parents to make my father agree that it was all a part of kids being kids. It was settled with a few hundred dollars, no consequences for her, and I endured an even harsher week following. Keeping my head down became a survival mechanism. Perhaps by doing so, I could endure until graduation in two years, finally breaking free from this infernal abyss. I envisioned fleeing so far that my very name would be unknown, a fresh start on which to build anew. I just needed to cling to that dream.
I attempted to retrieve my scattered papers before the wind could whisk them further away, but as my fingers stretched toward one paper nearer the group of tormentors, a foot descended, crushing bone beneath its weight. I suppressed any outward expression of pain, knowing that the louder I reacted, the more comedic it became.
“You reached for that one awfully fast,” Alison remarked.
I glanced up at her, observing her raised eyebrow. The thing about Alison, her mastery, was that the moment she laid eyes on you, she could unearth your deepest vulnerabilities. She pinpointed where to prod, to wound, to strike in order to force submission. While maintaining her grip on my hand, Alison leaned down. I shook my head, my dark hair falling over my eyes and obscuring my vision. It functioned like a shield, something to hide behind. She maintained her smile as she deftly removed the paper from my grasp, then shifted her attention to it. I was well aware of what she would discover. I should have destroyed it, but it wasn’t what I knew she would interpret it as. Her laughter erupted, brimming with disbelief.
“Look at this!” she exclaimed with amusement, passing the paper to her companions, who joined in the laughter.
“Ali, that’s a drawing of you!” one of her friends chimed in.
“It appears I have an admirer,” she teased, bending down once more and yanking a significant portion of my hair, forcing my head backward. “Creating drawings of me without permission?”
Her tone shifted to a darker one, her eyes gleaming with pure malice. I attempted to shake my head, yet her grip only tightened. It was baffling that no teacher made an attempt to intervene. We were situated right in plain view, outside the school’s entrance, with spectators enjoying the spectacle. However, no one dared to oppose Alison Brown. She had the educators under her thumb, ensuring they wouldn’t disrupt her amusement.
“Who allowed you to look at me long enough to create that drawing?” she asked with a sinister edge.
My gaze dropped to the ground. I understood that regardless of my response, I couldn’t defend the drawing. If I were to confess that I held romantic feelings for her, she would seize it as an opportunity to mock me. On the other hand, attempting to rationalize the situation would only result in her asserting that I was infatuated with her, using it as ammunition against me. Irrespective of the approach, I would emerge as the loser. I wasn’t in love with her. My feelings toward Alison were nothing but seething hatred that had festered since childhood. She was pure evil. The drawing I had created was more akin to a target for my pent-up rage. I craved a constant reminder of my resentment even when she wasn’t present. My intention was to capture her façade of innocence, knowing a snake was lurking beneath. There was no love. Just a consuming, smoldering hatred that I hoped would eventually consume her. I aspired to retaliate for all she had subjected me to, yet I recognized that my best course was to flee at the first opportunity. I could start anew, construct a better life. However, first, I needed to escape from Alison’s grasp.
“Answer me!” she demanded, her grip on my hair tightening as she pulled harder.
“I...”
“What?” she snapped.
“It’s just a drawing,” I whispered.
“Just a drawing?” she laughed in disbelief. “Of me, doggy.”
I despised being called “doggy” by her. She had bestowed that nickname upon me a few years ago after pushing my lunch to the ground, forcing me to eat it off the floor. I couldn’t afford to buy food at school. That meal was all I had, and I was desperate. Since then, I had become “doggy” in her eyes.
“I can draw from memory.”
“Which implies you must have studied me extensively to capture those details,” she snarled.
She signaled to the people behind her.
“Paper!” she commanded.
The largest of them handed her the paper, and she cruelly formed it into a crumpled ball before shoving it between my lips, pushing it into my mouth and nearly down my throat, triggering a gag reflex. She continued pressing, causing bile to rise in my throat. Alison was aware of the moment I was about to vomit, and she abruptly released her grip, standing as I retched onto the ground, the paper emerging alongside the vomit.
“Ew!” some of her girlfriends exclaimed, while the guys found it amusing.
Alison crossed her arms, her expression reflecting satisfaction as I looked up at her.
“If I find another drawing of me in your bag, the next one goes up your ass,” she warned, the threat growing even more menacing.
I trembled, remnants of vomit clinging to my chin, making me feel utterly repulsed. But my trembling wasn’t solely due to that. I knew her threat had the potential to become reality. There were no boundaries that Alison wouldn’t cross. She was fully prepared to go to extreme lengths. The darkness within her wouldn’t change. This was the true nature of the perfect and adored Alison Brown. She possessed everything: friends, popularity, a boyfriend, and even a touch of fame through part-time modeling. With her long, natural blond hair, baby blue eyes, and flawless skin, how could she not have it all? A girl like Alison could simply flutter her eyelashes and attain whatever she desired. Yet, despite her abundance, she opted to shove others down. I wasn’t the sole recipient of her cruelty. There were others, but for some reason, I seemed to be the favored target of her amusement. While some victims received respite from the bullying, it was a ceaseless ordeal for me. Even when Alison was absent, her minions would eagerly continue her work. It was an unending cycle for me.
“Do you understand, doggy?” she asked, a satisfied grin on her lips once more.
I nodded.
