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PROLOGUE
JASMINE
16 Years Old
I’ve always loved school. It gives me a sense of peace. A tiny spark of happiness. I don’t want to say I don’t want to be here, on this earth that is, but sometimes I wonder… What if I push the knife a little deeper? Drag the cut a little longer? What if I could fade away into nothing, or maybe, I would drift into everything? The wind that sways the trees. The whisper of the rain that lightly caresses the velvet petals of a rose. The breeze of the ocean waves as they crash to shore.
I shake the thoughts from my mind as I’m leaving the library, my books to my chest. A cry so violent it rivals my own thoughts has my steps hurrying down the hallway to the gym. I peek through the door’s window that is smeared with fingerprints. Easton and the rest of the sophomore football team have Gerry—a redhead boy, who is my friend, kind of; we speak casually but never hang out—strung up to the basketball goals, fear and tears leaking from his eyes.
Mark, Easton’s best friend, knocks off Gerry's glasses. Thinking quickly and irrationally, I grab my phone and hit Record. They wouldn’t get away with it this time. Easton may be a part of the heirs, but I am tired of him thinking he is a god amongst men. Gerry’s glasses hit the floor and Easton smashes them, shattering them to pieces.
My heart sinks. Why are kids so cruel? This isn't right. I should stop them, but what could I do?
They pull out paint guns, shooting poor Gerry with them. His cries of pain will haunt my nightmares. I am ashamed of my lack of actions. Of always being weak. Once every inch of Gerry’s body is covered in welts of color, they leave. I shut my phone off, grabbing a ladder out of the supply closet. I can barely carry it, but I am determined. Gerry hangs his head as sobs shake his tiny body. I help him down. Picking up his smashed glasses, I grimace, tucking them into his blazer pocket. I would get my dad to buy him a new pair. I help him outside, having my driver give him a ride home.
I get out of my car, running to my aunt Eliza’s house. She isn’t really my aunt, but you couldn’t tell me any different. I pound on the door, and she swings it open, confusion on her face.
“Everything okay, honey?” she asks as tears run down my face.
“Eliza, I need to show you something.”
EASTON
I walk into my house feeling like shit. I didn’t have anything against Gerry, I didn’t want to hurt him, but Mark peer pressured me, and I didn’t want to look like a pussy. My mom is sitting on the couch with a deadly look on her face. I know all about my mom’s crazy past and even though we have a great relationship, she scares the fuck out of me.
“Hey, Mom.” I give her my best innocent smile.
She rises from the couch, gripping me by my ear, and drags me to the basement, like I am a toddler and not a foot taller than her. I know when to keep my mouth shut, and that time is now. She throws my ass to the mat and stands over me. I look over to see my dad and Ezra munching on popcorn in the corner.
“Please tell me my son, my sweet son, did not bully a smaller kid today.”
I swallow but don’t answer. How does she know? She gets in my face, her cold blue eyes shifting to gray. “Jasmine brought over a video today. Want to know what was on it, Easton Jackson McKnight?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, cursing fucking Jasmine. Why did she always have to be a snitch? “It’s like I don’t even know who you are!” she roars, and I flinch away from her.
She backs away, kicking off her shoes. “Pick a weapon,” she says slowly.
Fuck. I am about to be punished, McSutton style. “Mom, listen,” I begin.
“I said. Pick. A. Weapon.”
Christ. My mom’s about to hand me my ass on a silver platter. Things in my family are a little different. Probably considered child abuse to most, but when you own the town, everyone turns a blind eye, or loses them.
Rising, I go to the wall, drawing a combat stick. The stick is light and smooth in my palm. My mom does the same. We stand across from one another as we go into our stances.
I didn’t like Jasmine. Now, I hate her.
Mom runs at me, and it is the last thing I see before a stick comes down on my side, smacking my rib cage. I fall to the mat.
Fuck my life.
CHAPTER 1
EASTON
17 YEARS OLD
Junior Year, Christmas Break
