Page 49 of Wicked Little Secret
I speed up, zigzagging down the obstacle course of a hallway that’s the ground floor. Vaguely, I’m aware it’s Samson coming up behind me.
Not that it matters—I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Tonight was simply about exposing him and Heather for what they are. The same selfish, cruel, fucked up people they’ve always been.
It runs in their families.
Now, I get the chance to use their betrayals to my advantage in my own special way.
I make it outside in a cool rush of air and several catcalls from fraternity guys still hanging out on the lawn. I have no idea where I’m headed except anywhere but here. Anywhere but the frat house that reeks of booze, vibrates with music deafening enough to give you a headache, and full of some of the most treacherous people I’ve ever met in my life.
“Nyssa, where do you think you’re going?!”
“Stay away from me, Samson!” I yell from over my shoulder, crossing the barren street. Trees and bushes make up the opposite side, eventually leading into the largest courtyard of the university. Otherwise known as the quickest way to escape the fraternity.
If only Samson took a hint and gave up.
As I cross the street, he jogs after me, more determined than ever. It takes him seconds to reach me as I navigate the grassy terrain in my heels. His sausage-likefingers clench shut on my upper arm, spinning me to face him.
“Samson, what the fuck!?”
“I’m talking to you!”
“I don’t want to talk to you!” I shout, my voice louder than his. “All I wanted was proof. I wanted to know for sure what I thought was going on was going on. I know that now. So get the hell away from me.”
“Not ’til I’ve… hic… ’til I’ve said what I want…” he rumbles between drunken hiccups. His grip tightens on my arm and he bows closer, his breath hot and putrid. “You walked out on me… ’member that?”
“Cut the shit! You’ve been messing around sincebeforewe broke up!”
“Yeah? So what? You didn’t put out!”
“Don’t touch me!” I scream, squirming in his hold to free myself.
“Look… things’ve been rough. Heather’s been there.”
“And I haven’t?”
“You know… hic… they’re kicking me off the team? Some drug test… hic… bullshit. You even care?”
I wrench my arm from him and start walking, trying to change course from the pine trees nearby. “If you expect me to forgive you for cheating because you failed a drug test, you’re an even bigger ass than I thought you were.”
“Don’t walk away from me!”
“We’re done, Samson! What else is there to say?”
“I’m not done!” He seizes hold of me again, his grip viselike and inescapable. “You gonna finally… hic… put out? I never… hic… got to fuck you.”
“Samson, fucking let go of me! You’re drunk!”
“How’s that fair?” he slurs, wrapping his arms around me until I’m locked in a bearhug.
Immediately, I go into defense mode, stamping on his foot and kneeing him in the groin. Both hits land, earning deep, infuriated groans of pain out of him.
But he doesn’t let me go—he grips me tighter as I struggle harder. We tip over, falling into a grassy ditch under one of the many trees.
It’s the first time real panic infects my lungs. My brain. My entire being as I scream into the night and punch and kick at any part of him I can. The odds are stacked against me as soon as we’re on the ground, the moment feeling insurmountable.
My wrists are no match for his large, sweaty hands as he pins me down and climbs on top of me.
“SAMSON, STOP!” I cry out as if it’ll make any difference at all.