His jawline is perfection, with a light blond shadow dusted across it. I refuse to let myself become another chick who just falls for his appearance and status. That’s not who I am, and it never will be. But damn, my body is making it hard for my brain to control the situation.
“Carson,” I respond.
“Yes?” His charm is revolting, and I feel like I’m on fire.
“What are you doing here? And why are your boys fucking up the forest?”
“I’m hunting rabbits, baby.”
“Rabbits?” I’m horrified, and I feel my blood begin to boil.
Just then, a wiry shirtless pale-skinned boy bursts through the clearing, squealing like a pig as he must have stepped through the fire in his haste to escape. He bounces headfirst into me, panting, and I swear his eyes are bloodshot as they plead with mine.
He grabs my shoulders with his bony white fingers and breathes cold air in my face. “Run!”
Carson looks at his watch as the boy staggers off, trying to lose himself in the woods, his back covered in lashings and dirt and his feet bare. I can’t help but think something really bad is going on here.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a game,” says Carson, turning my flushed cheeks to face him.
“A game?”
“Wanna play?” He smiles down at me, brushing my hair back from my face, which I shake away with irritation.
“I don’t think I like your games.”
“Oh, but you would,” he says. He hoists me up like a little doll and pushes my legs around his waist. I’m pushed up against a tree while his lips brush against mine.
“It’s a game I’d let you win, Darcie,” he whispers against my mouth.
“Put me down.”
“Yeah?”
I’m not struggling. I should be, but my brain is on a coffee break.
“Yes, please,” I say to his mouth.
“Say it again,” he says, smiling and bringing me in tighter.
“Please put me down, Carson.” My heart is racing.
I hate this guy. I really do.
He gently places my feet back on the ground and straightens my skirt for me. “See me tonight?”
“I’m washing my hair.”
“No, you’re not.”
“What are you doing to that boy?”
“Tonight, Darcie.”
He whistles to his goons, who respond like well-trained dogs. “Time’s up, boys! Hunt!” he yells, and the three boys rush off in different directions into the forest.
Carson turns his attention back to me. His eyes burn into my soul, seeing right through my attempts to resist him.
“I have some business to attend to here. I’ll see you at eight on the edge of the clearing.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I’ll have a gift for you.”
“I don’t care. I won’t be here.”
“Till then,” he says, kissing my cheek before racing off to join the game.
I hope that boy will be okay. I don’t know if I should join in and search for him too, or just mind my own business and go home.
I feel pathetic, but I go home and pray I see that little thing at school tomorrow. Why do men have to be so cruel?
I should turn up at eight and cut his dick off. Why do I have these thoughts? Sometimes I don’t think I’m quite right in the head.
I have a million sticks in my socks and go round the back to bang the dirt off my shoes on the porch.
“Why are you late?” My aunt stands at the back door with her apron tied around her ample belly and her portly arms crossed.
Without waiting for an answer, she whacks me over the top of the head with a spoon and huffs off.
I hardly felt it and wonder if I’m numb on the outside as well.
Walking inside while holding my shoes, I can smell freshly baked cake that we won’t be eating. It will be for all the church folk who are worthy of it and not heathens like me who take shortcuts through the forest.
I’m glad I’m getting the silent treatment while baking trays smash against the sink. The last thing I want to talk about is my day.
I go upstairs to my room, designed by my aunt. It’s covered in crucifixes. The bed is made, and my uncle is hunched over my underwear drawer, fishing around and muttering to himself. I should be creeped out, but I’m so desensitized to life that I merely clear my throat.
He stands upright. “Routine drug check, my girl.”
I flop down on the bed, and he hands me a plastic jar for me to pee in. He awaits my response.
“Thanks, Uncle Ray. I’ll have it for you soon.”
“You’ll do it now before you come down for dinner!” he says like a drill sergeant.
I don’t know why burning a few things makes me a drug addict, but hey, whatever.
Home sweet home.
This is my life now. One day, they’ll be claiming house insurance when this hellhole burns to the ground.
It’s a win-win situation.
Why am I here?
I don’t really know, but I find myself in this forest clearing with my classmates and a few stray party crashers who look like they probably graduated a decade ago.
Burning drums dotted around glow amber among the faces of everyone standing around them. I love the sounds of wood breaking and crackling as it burns. It soothes me into a state of calm. I’d burn the entire forest down if I could just to hear those sounds, but I couldn’t stand destroying the homes of whatever wildlife lived there. I start wondering if rabbits can climb trees, then realize how ridiculous the thought is.
I’m stroking a lighter in my pocket, wondering who I could bum a cigarette from. I see Carson and some of his teammates standing by one of the burning drums and gently inch over to where they are. I know one of them would have something to inhale.
Giselle is staring at me like I just killed her sister, and I feel a giggling energy bubbling inside me. I check my phone to distract myself from laughing in her face.
“I haven’t messaged you yet,” says a familiar voice beside me. I know it’s Carson. He stands so tall beside me with the faintest scent of aftershave mixed with wood-fire smoke.
“That’s because you don’t have my number,” I reply, still staring at my phone.
“Yet,” he says, laughing.
“Got a cigarette?” I say, peering up at him. His blond mop of hair lazily hangs over his chiseled face, and it’s kind of adorable. He’s smiling at me, and I feel a little leap in my belly.
“Foss!” he yells suddenly, and the crazy-looking, curly-haired surfer guy comes rushing over like an obedient lap dog.
The wind whips my hair around, along with little firefly ashes from the bonfire. I close my jacket around my body.
Foss stands to attention beside Carson and doesn’t take his eyes off me with that overexcited wide grin of his.
“Whatcha need?” he says, winking at me.
“Give Darcie a cigarette,” says Carson. “You know you shouldn’t smoke that shit,” he continues and looks down at me.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, okay, Dad.” Foss tries to place it in my mouth, but I jerk my head back and take it between my fingers.
I then proceed with the annoying process of trying to light it.
Carson opens his quarterback jacket and steps in close, shielding the wind for me, and I can feel his body heat from his broad chest radiating off him.