Page 104 of Shadowed With Fear

He shrugs. “You were a cunt last year. You got my friends killed. That brother and boyfriend of yours,” he tsks chuckling. “Are you sure we’re the bad guys here?”

I nod, with faux dejection. “Start from the beginning.”

“I didn’t know Issac until this summer. His cousin was one of the friends your brother killed. Ain’t that just a coincidence?” He grins.

“Ethan told me the truth. About how one of my best friends, a girl I had grown up with, the girl I had dreamed about for years, got Andrew murdered,” Issac stares at me wide-eyed.

“Issac, I didn’t do anything. I swear. They were being creeps at that fucking party. I stood up for myself and they hunted me down!”

“I don’t fucking care! You never gave two shits about me! You didn’t even care to notice that I was gone for weeks when he went missing, did you? But oh boy, don’t I know every fucking thing about you, Dahlia,” he barks stepping closer and closer.

“I know that you love sweet little nothing bullshit. That you sleep in your underwear. And I know how fucking wet you get when you’re scared,” he wears a sadistic smirk. “Are you soaking your panties right now? I bet you are. I can’t wait to see.” Issac leers, getting closer to my ear. He inhales deeply, “I’ve waited so fucking long.”

“I had to wait, bidding my time for when I could strike,” Ethan cuts in, making Issac step back. “You were always at your dad’s house, or with Liz. But luckily, after meeting Issac and you moving in with your brother, I got the chance to get closer.”

I soak in their words, no matter how disgusting they make me feel. He’s pissed that he and his friends we’re being perverts and saying horrible things to me, and when I retaliated and they tried raping me, they were stopped, and the guys do what they always do. Take matters into their own hands.

“It just happened to be a wonderful coincidence that you were in the class I was assisting,” Ethan smiles, the weird charming, placating grin he wears daily at school.

“So, what are you going to do to me?” I swallow the bile rising in my throat, struggling to keep the evenness of my tone. I don’t want them to see me scared, Issac especially Fucking creep might think it’s an invitation to shove his hand in my pants.

“Well, originally we were just going to do whatever we wanted with you, then kill you, and leave you posed all pretty for your brother to find— “

“And fucking Grayson,” Issac hisses.

“But we have a new venture in this little…hobby of ours. We had a few trial runs the last couple months. Two girls, ten grand a piece and whatever shit they have I can sell on the side. It’s a pretty good set up.” Ethan dusts a piece of lint off his shoulder.

“You’re selling girls for money and drugs?” I deadpan.

“Yeah, pretty much. They also let us do what we want to the girls first, so, it’s pretty great. Takes the problem of cleaning up a hell of a lot easier.”

I scoff. “You’re fucking sick!”

“Maybe, but what can you do?”

He descends upon me, backhanding me swiftly across the cheek. It stings. The weight of his hand connecting with my face has rekindled the pounding ache in my head. I groan, head lulling back.

“Oh, at least make it fun. You were giving me a hell of a time at the Founder’s Fest. I fucking loved every second of it,” Ethan whispers loudly. Issac cackles from behind him, waving his knife around wildly, a poor imitation of the way Henry twirls his own.

“Please, don’t.”

“Too fucking late, darling.”

Issac steps forward, waggling the point of the knife toward my face.

“Do you think Grayson would still want you if we cut up your pretty face? There was a time I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, D. But” he sighs sadly, “I think I should make the outside match what’s hidden on the inside. A disgusting, fat, fucking, bitch.”

He slashes, the blade catching my skin above my brow. Blood pours over my eye, blurring my vision. The crimson liquid gushes into my eye, burning way worse than any soap ever has.

“Fuck!” I cry out, jerking my head back.

Ethan leans forward, licking the blood from my brow slowly. He stands back up, looking over me.

“You aren’t wrong. She’s fucking nasty inside and out.”

And they start. I don’t know how long I sit there, unmoving, unable to move, being tortured for their own sick pleasure. I cry, scream, beg, pray and nothing happens. More slices in my skin across my face, chest, arms, legs, and at that point Issac cut open my dress starting on my chest, but especially my stomach.

Each time the knife stops, Ethan enters with pounding fists against my head. I almost savor those moments of reprieve, the pain in my head nothing compared to the searing burn from air seeping into the wounds.