Piece by piece, everything else comes into focus. The hands on top of me are connected to two bodies on either side of me. My eyes blaze a trail up the muscular frames to the unmistakable faces of Landon and Carson. They are passed out, bodies curled into mine, wearing nothing but their briefs. Colorful foil wrappers dot the landscape of the bed around us, and I nearly choke on my saliva when I realize what they are.
“Oh my god,” I whisper.
A group of partiers lingers in the doorway, snickering as they hold up their phones to snap photos and add commentary.
“Stop.” Panic rises like bile in my throat. “Stop taking pictures!”
Landon groans beside me, flopping onto his back as he blinks up at the ceiling.
“The fuck?” His voice is raspy and disjointed.
When his bleary eyes meet mine, a bomb detonates inside my heart. How could he let this happen?
I choke back my emotions as I shove his hand off my chest. His fingers flop limply at his side while I make a feeble attempt to get my body to cooperate. When I sit upright, Carson’s hand falls away too. Landon’s eyes follow the movement, and in one blink, his expression morphs from blankness to a hurricane.
He looks pissed, eyes flickering back and forth between Carson and me. Can he see how confused and hurt I am? I’m waiting for him to say something. Anything. But there’s only accusation in his dark gaze. He thinks this is my fault.
Anger. Betrayal. His emotions are mine, mirrored back at me. His reaction is so irrational I can’t comprehend it. Only one thing makes sense. I need to get the hell out of here.
My limbs are weak as I scramble from the bed, nearly tripping over the tangled sheet as the onlookers record me as though it’s the most hilarious thing they’ve ever seen. I want to scream, but I can’t. My lungs are paralyzed. My heart is hammering against my rib cage so hard I think it’s going to explode.
Fighting for a modicum of modesty, I slap my palms over my breasts and fight the tears gathering in my eyes as I search for a way out.
“Wake up, asshole.” I hear Landon say.
“What the fuck?” Carson mumbles behind me. “What happened?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Audrey and her two fuckboys linger at the front of the crowd. “You guys porked the demon slut at the same time. Congratulations. You get a shot of penicillin as a consolation prize.”
I shove past her and the prying eyes of all her friends. My sanity is holding on by a thread, and I’m on the verge of flinging myself over the railing if I don’t get out of this house. But I can’t cry in front of them. I won’t.
“You can run, but you can’t hide!” someone shouts from behind me. “You’re like famous now, Hawaii.”
I bolt for the hall, only to slam into someone on the way out. The physical presence of another body so close to mine revolts me, and my stomach threatens to spew up the little contents it has left.
“Kail?” Courtney gently reaches for my arm, forcing me to acknowledge her.
Concern washes over her face as her eyes sweep over me, and that little glimpse of human empathy is what pushes me over the edge.
“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” she hisses as she tugs off her jacket and wraps it around me. “You’re all fucking psychopaths!”
“Kail!” I hear Landon calling after me, but I can’t look at him.
“Get me out of here,” I tell Court.
Shielding me, she ushers us away, dragging my half limp body beside her. Every step feels like a mile, but I’ve never been so thankful for someone’s help in my entire life. Somehow, we manage to make it outside and across the lawn before I puke in Theo’s perfectly landscaped bushes. And the tears finally break free.
I sob, and Court drops to her knees, gently stroking my back as pain fragments every cell in my body.
“What did they do?” she whispers.
When I look up at her, she’s little more than a blurry human shape, and at that moment, I feel like I’m no longer human at all.
“I…” My voice wavers on the edge of sanity. “I don’t know.”Landon-Two Years Later-My Porsche 911 glides into a parking space at Black Mountain Academy like a bird skims over the surface of the sea. On a whim, I decided to upgrade to the GT2 RS model this year just for the hell of it. A choice that brought me at least a solid five minutes of peace. But not even the leather bucket seats can quell the suffocating feeling in my chest when I turn off the ignition and glance at the front of the school.
The entrance is overrun with Black Mountain’s richest parents, beaming with pride as they drop off their spawn for their first day of the school year. My eyes glaze over as I scan the army of blazers and polo shirts. They are all so crisp and white and starched, buttoned up to their throats with perfectly knotted ties. Meanwhile, my shirt hangs haphazardly from my black trousers, the tie half undone around my collar, sleeves rolled up to my elbows. I yanked this year’s uniform out of the packaging this morning, not bothering to do much with it. There isn’t anyone to fuss over my shit in the morning. Nobody’s coming to send me off and wish me luck. And if I don’t show up for class, the only person held accountable is me.