Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,89
wicked lips. “The flash drive had a few select videos of his cam girls on them, just to remind him that we know all his dirty, little secrets.”
A frown takes over my mouth, and I exhale, memories washing over me. I push them down and let cool, icy numbness seep back into me. I can tell the story, without reliving it. It's a specialty of mine, disconnecting.
“Principal Vaughn is a monster of the worst kind,” I say, thinking about his hand on my knee, rubbing, caressing. “He waited until I was at my lowest before he decided to invite me into his bullshit.”
“What happened, exactly?” Callum asks, looking up from his phone, the light playing across his relatively delicate features. If it weren't for the scars, and the hard muscles in his shoulders and chest, he'd have that pretty, preppy sort of look. “If you don't my asking. Everyone deals with trauma differently. I have a tendency to re-live mine over and over inside my head. Talking about it gets it all out.” His blue eyes flash and he licks his lips, blond hair disheveled from his hood, legs crossed on the velvety couch cushions.
“Well, you all know the beginning of the story,” I say dryly, gesturing in Callum and Hael's general direction, my eyes narrowing. “You guys decided to turn my life into a living hell with Kali Rose's help, and I went to Principal Vaughn to report the bullying.” A dry laugh escapes me, and I run a hand over my face as Aaron comes down the stairs. If he's going to act like I don't exist today, I'll return the favor. I continue with my story, perching on the back of the larger couch. “You assholes did … whatever it is that you do, and my accusations were buried in bullshit. Then my sister died, and …” I trail off, and there's this hitch in my chest that makes it impossible to breathe.
When I think about Pen, I lose myself.
To sadness.
Regret.
Anger.
Rage.
My hands begin to shake as Aaron moves into the living room and offers me a cold beer. I take it and we exchange a wordless look, both of us holding onto our emotions so tight that we may as well be on different continents.
I remember the day Penelope died. I also remember how the bullying stopped. That was the day the Havoc Boys left me alone for good. That is, until I marched up to Victor Channing on the first day of school and called out that word.
Havoc.
They create it.
They revel in it.
They dispense it.
“We threatened Principal Vaughn with photos of him fucking the school nurse in his office. It was a serious enough offense that he buried your report, but not enough to keep him off our asses forever.” Aaron sits down in the burgundy chair between the two couches and sips his beer, his expression distant and focused on the fireplace instead of my face. Callum, Hael, and Oscar, however, are all staring at me.
Victor is nowhere to be seen, but for some reason, I feel like he's listening.
“After Penelope died, I went to see Principal Vaughn—Ms. Keating didn't work at Prescott then or else I would've spoken to her.” I knock back a third of my beer in a single gulp and swipe a tattooed hand over my mouth. “I reported my stepfather for molesting … for raping my sister. And instead of helping me, Vaughn called the Thing and told him everything I'd said. Then he put his hand on my leg and asked me if I wanted to escape.”
My eyes close briefly, and I feel that familiar anger taking over. His hand was so sweaty, almost lukewarm, his tongue sliding over his thin lower lip. Even the look in his eyes was a violation of sorts.
“You don't have to live this life, Bernadette, not if you don't want to. Would you like to escape? To make something of yourself? I know an easy way for a girl like you to make money.”
“I told him I wasn't going to be a prostitute, that I was fully aware that was an option.” I sigh again, and my body just feels so damn heavy … “He mentioned I could work from the safety of his cabin, on camera, that—”
“Enough,” Vic says, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere. He's just suddenly standing near the bottom of the stairs, face dark, features hard. “The Kia Sportage is on the move.”