Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 129132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Yeah, big man, and what’s that?” My heart rate spikes in annoyance as he attempts to psychoanalyze me.
“Everyone thinking you’re your mother’s daughter.” Before I can respond, he spins us, so I’m falling against him, his back now on the lockers. His eyes harden, his voice now brasher. “How many times do I have to tell you, Raven? I don’t need to pay for sex, especially not when you already gave it up so easily. Proposition me again, and I’ll have your ass sent straight back where you came from. We don’t want trash in our school.”
My forehead creases but before I can say anything laughter rings in my ear.
My stare is slow to shift.
A half dozen gym students have filed into the hall.
Their laughter rebounds off the walls, hitting like a wave down the long hall only to ricochet right back.
Blood pumps fiercely against my temples, taking over my vision for a short moment before I blink long and hard, forcing it away, bringing myself back to right now.
They open when Maddoc shoves me away, and I stumble, falling back onto the pile of shit on the floor. His eyes are full of spite. “Let me catch you trying to pick up clients at our school, Snow.” He makes it a point to look at my feet, deeming me worth less than the dirty floor beneath them, a deep frown on his face as he shakes his head.
And I can’t breathe.
I start to sweat, my skin begins to itch and I can’t feel my hands. My gaze travels from person to person, finding each stare more ruling than the last.
When my eyes snap back to Maddoc, it’s not just him I find, but the other two now at his side.
The tripod.
The boys of Brayshaw High, three strong.
They felt threatened by my actions, actions that helped them more than hurt them, but regardless, were out of line as far as they were concerned.
Here, you’re not allowed to have your own moves if it messes with theirs.
They pulled me in, brought eyes on me, made sure everyone knew good and well who I was and where I came from. All so the bomb would hit that much harder when it fell.
The lead-up, all of it, was set to put me in my place, right here for the assholes around to see.
Now it’s not speculation but confirmed fact as far as they’re concerned.
Words straight from their leader’s mouth.
I’m an apple plucked from the same tree.
A whore.
It’s one thing for me to play into it, to act like the slut they see, make them think I fuck because I feel like it, but that’s on my terms. My choice.
And he took it away in two point five seconds with two dozen witnesses.
He’s right with what he said. I can’t stand everyone seeing her when they look at me.
I bite into my tongue to keep from lashing out. Chances are the rage and disgrace will blend, ending in waterworks I can’t control and they don’t deserve – that would be a nightmare.
They want my tears, but they won’t get them this easy.
I force my feet to move, block out the snide remarks and instant offers that hit my ears and shove through the door with my head held high. It’s fake, the vigor I show.
Truth is, these boys got me on my knees, where whores are most comfortable.
But I swear to shit, it’ll take a lot more than three parentless punks to keep me here.
I dab at my lip with the hydrogen peroxide one last time then set the little timer glued to the wall to keep us regulated on the hot water and step into the shower to let the dirt and grime run off the rest of me.
How I managed to sneak back into the house before Maybell woke is beyond me, but I made it with only minutes to spare, then slid into the bathroom before she could see I was a hot, bloody mess.
The timer goes off too soon, followed by a prompt bang on the other side of the door letting me know it’s someone else’s turn and time for me to get the fuck out.
I dress as quickly as possible and slip back into my room, flopping onto my assigned bed. The mattress is ancient and has a dip in the center from years of overuse, but it’s got clean sheets and a soft blanket. Beats the hell out of the drop-down sofa I slept on in the trailer living room the past ten years.
The second I let my eyes close, Maybell pops in.
“Come on now, Rae. Breakfast with the others, chores, then the rest of the day is yours.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“And I’m not asking. Come on now, you need to put some meat on those bones.”
Ugh. Kill me now.