Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“What the fuck did you do?”
My head is swiveling between him and Chloe.
“Did you send it already?” Chloe’s voice is high-pitched and grating. “You said you’d make sure no one knew it was me!”
“Chill, babe. You can’t tell it’s you. You don’t see your face, and he never said your name once. He could’ve been fucking his gran, for all anyone knows. Probably does, the freak.”
“What the fuck did you do, Brad?” I growl, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.
Brad grins and holds his phone up, screen facing my way.
I can see my bare ass and the back of my head on-screen.
“Fuck, okay, I’m doing it. God, you’re so fucking hot. I can’t believe I get to fuck you,” I hear myself say on the video.
A few seconds later, I’m watching myself come.
Misery crawls up my spine. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it out. Shut everything out. Memories fighting to the surface, ones I fight so hard to keep locked away.
“River,” I hear Chloe’s voice on-screen.
I didn’t notice the mocking tone when she first spoke. Probably because I was too overcome from coming. But I’m hearing it now.
“Yeah?”
“Did you just … come?”
“I’m so sorry.”
The video ends, and Brad is doubled over with laughter.
“Dude, it was even better the second time around! It was like a fucking second, and you were blowing your load!”
“You fucking filmed me having sex with your ex-girlfriend?” I growl. My vision is going hazy with anger.
“Brad, you said we’d get back together if I did this for you.”
My head turns to Chloe, stunned at what just came out of her mouth.
“Sure, babe. Sure.”
“So, we’re back together?”
“I said so, didn’t I?” he snaps dismissively.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I bark at Brad. “You blackmailed her into doing this?” I swing around to look at Chloe. “Why would you do this? You can do better than this jerkwad.”
“I love him,” she whines, pouting.
“You heard the girl,” Brad says smugly, answering for her. He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a little bag of white powder.
Cocaine.
“Here, babe, go do a line. You deserve it after that.”
He tosses the bag to her, and she eagerly catches it. Scurrying away over to her dressing table, she tips the powder out and starts drawing out lines.
She’s a cokehead.
I should’ve known.
I should’ve fucking known all of this was too good to be true.
Good things don’t happen to me.
“You’re fucked up. Both of you,” I spit the words at him.
“Maybe I am. But I’ll never be as fucked up as you. How was it, watching your mom blow my uncle away?”
“Fuck you.” I stomp to the door.
“Look at it this way … I was doing you a favor. You got to fuck the hottest girl in school. I know it was only for a couple of seconds”—he laughs—“but it still counts. And, now, you won’t be known just as the son of a cop killer. You’ll also be known as the one-pump chump.”
I turn back and storm toward him. He actually steps back, and that makes me laugh.
Fucking pussy.
I grab his phone from his hand, throw it on the floor, and stamp my foot on it.
“What the fuck?” he yells. “You’ll pay for that, asshole! That was a brand-new phone! And, if you think that got rid of the video, think again. ’Cause I already sent it to everyone who goes to our school.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
His expression is so arrogant and condescending. I want to hit him so bad.
I want to keep hitting him and never stop.
I turn my nails into my palms, pressing into the skin to ground myself. Stop myself from hitting him. I feel the skin break, blood seeping into my hands.
Walk away, River.
Walk. Away.
Releasing my fingers, I force myself to turn away from him and walk over to the door. I unlock it and yank it open, leaving my blood all over the handle, but like I fucking care.
Then, I’m out of there, speeding down the stairs and pushing through the mass of people, most already watching the video. I shut the front door on their laughter. Laughter about me. Aimed at me.
I jog quickly to my car. Getting inside it, I turn on the engine and peel out of there.
I’m so fucking dumb! I can’t believe I fell for that.
They’re all in there, laughing at me. Brad will be having a great fucking time, telling everyone about it.
Sick son of a bitch. Just like his uncle.
Hurt and pain well up inside me. Things long buried resurfacing.
“Fuck!” I roar, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. “I fucking hate people! I wish they would all just leave me alone!”
Never again will I be so stupid to trust a girl.
Never a-fucking-gain.
Carrie
I’ve got a car!
It’s a fifteen-year-old Chevy Impala with too many miles on the odometer to count, but it’s mine, and I got a great deal on it. It was selling for fifteen hundred bucks, but Ivan, who owns the local dealership, has been a regular at the diner since Sadie opened it, and he gave it to me for twelve hundred bucks. I’m not super flush with funds, but I’ve been saving up all my tips, and I’ve been picking up extra hours at the diner these past few months to pay for it, so no more walking for me. Yay!