As soon as I say it, I see the subtle flare of Bowen’s nostrils and the vein in his neck pop for a split second. I never told the guys about the coroner’s report, I never told them what was meticulously carved across Evie’s stomach. I was too distraught to notice it at the time, but even as her body liquified like a macabre chrysalis, they could see it, clear as day.
I never told them about her butchered hair, or any of the other gruesome details the police warned us to keep under wraps in case it was ever brought to trial. The guys don’t know about any of it, except for Aiden connecting the dots after his sham interrogation. They’re just that creative. Or maybe just that angry.
Because anger brings out the worst in people, it brings out the darkness festering deep inside.
“You know why he marks you up?” Mason runs his fingers up and down the outside of Asher’s leg, “Because by the time he’s finished with you, no one will recognize your face.”
“Get the fuck off me!” she screams, kicking at him, which only makes him laugh.
Mason grabs her ankle roughly and jerks her leg down, holding it still, “I’m just trying to help you, babe, prepare you for why he brought you here,” he reaches up with his other hand and pops the button of her shorts in one motion, “make sure you know how to please him,” he hisses from behind his gaiter.
Aiden absently swings his bat in a circle at his hip, “He’ll cut off your hair, some fingers, maybe he’ll even dig your heart out of your chest,” he says it like he’s reciting a grocery list.
“Because he’s such a heartbreaker,” Alex snickers, drawing more than a few laughs.
“Yeah,” Josh gasps through his hockey mask, “but he’s so cute, though…”
“Bo,” Asher whimpers, eyes pleading with him to intervene.
But Bowen makes no effort to step in. He doesn’t move a muscle, or even acknowledge her presence, only gazes past her—at me—with disinterested, dead eyes.
“Aww…” Alex swaggers around from behind Bowen, “she thinks he’s going to help her.”
“Bo!”
“Bo!”
“BO!” Their squeaky taunts descend into fits of laughter.
With a swift jerk of his arm, Alex reels back and smashes Bowen in the nose with his elbow. Surprised shouts and groans fill the air, punctuated with curses from Bowen as he throws his head to the side and staggers backward. But he recovers quickly, about to come at Alex when Aiden extends his bat between them.
“You’d be wise to stand there and take it like a man,” Aiden growls through his fuzzy rabbit mouth as blood pours from Bowen’s nose.
Before Bowen can react further, Alex’s arm darts out and he swipes his hand across Bowen’s face. Then he turns and crosses the circle, reaching out and dragging his bloody hand across Asher’s cheek. She recoils in disgust, squirming against my chest.
“I hate to tell you this, hon,” I sigh over her shoulder, “but Bo doesn’t give a shit what we do to you. You’re only as useful as that wet ass pussy you brought up here.” I lift my eyes to Bowen, “If we decide to run a train on you right here in front of him, he’ll just go back down to Canaan and find another just like you…” I lean into her ear, “maybe someone who didn’t go to school with the last girl he brought out here…” Asher’s chest caves beneath my bat and her lungs deflate in horror. “Yeah,” I say with enough venom to kill an elephant, “you know who I’m talking about. So, why don’t you beat him back home and tell your friends what’ll happen the next time they want to get dicked down by a murderer.”
Alex circles Bowen’s Lancer, stabbing his knife through each tire as he passes. With a swing of his bat, Aiden shatters one taillight, and then the other.
“But how rude would I be if I let you go home without anything to remember him by?” I glance at Mason and give a sharp nod to Asher. Mason rises and steps behind her to take my place, jerking her against his chest with the bat. “Hold her legs,” I bark at Josh.
He does as I say as she starts screaming hysterically. I step around him and dig into my back pocket, producing a black Sharpie seconds later. At first, she doesn’t know what I’m doing, only that I’m grabbing her waist to hold her still. I bite the top of the marker and pop it off. Then, in sharp, jagged letters, I scrawl one word across her stomach, covering as much skin as I can and tracing over each letter three times to make sure the ink soaks in deep.
SLUT
The jeers from the rest of the guys get louder as I drag the last line down my T and I step back, admiring my work. Asher looks slightly relieved, but no less terrified.
“And just to make sure there’s no confusion…” I step closer and grab Asher over the top of her head, pressing her head into Mason’s shoulder.
She continues screaming, tears streaming down her face, while I hold her head steady and scrawl two more words across her forehead. And I make sure my handwriting is the neatest it’s ever been, just so everyone will know.
BO’S SLUT
After I’m done, I shove her face away and take a step back as I recap my marker, “Better get to walking, sweetheart,” I glance back at Bowen and his bloody face glowering at me, “before he catches up to you.”
Mason swings his arm back and sweeps it forward again as the bat falls from Asher’s chest. His palm lands with a smack on her ass, propelling her forward. She takes off with a shriek across the clearing with an eruption of hoots and howls at her back. In seconds, she’s gone, disappearing into the night.
The shouts turn to laughter as we start meandering back toward Mason’s truck, our work done for the night. I swing my bat onto my shoulder and backtrack, holding Bowen’s eyes.
“Did you get it out of your system?” he calls to me with a hint of a smirk.
“It’s never going to stop,” I shake my head, “not until you’re in prison or in the ground.” Then I turn on my heel and follow the rest of the masked demons back into the headlights.
●●●
Mason’s assumption turns out to be strikingly accurate. They don’t arrest all of us. Less than 48 hours after slashing Bowen’s tires and scaring the shit out of his little fuck toy, on the day before finals, I catch movement in the hallway outside Mrs. Slone’s English class. She glances up from her high-top chair behind the podium and freezes when two officers in black uniforms waltz through the door.
Wells Rhinehardt nods to her as he crosses the room, “Excuse the interruption, ma’am.”
He turns down the aisle on my right while the other one—the same one from Evie’s house—takes my left. Murmurs ripple through the room when they come to a halt at my desk.
“On your feet,” Wells orders.
“Are you lost?” I mutter with disregard, “This isn’t your jurisdiction.”
Wells flashes a brief, but annoyed smile before grabbing my t-shirt and hauling me to my feet. On reflex, I shove him in the chest, which only gets me spun around and slammed down chest first onto the desk.
“Hey!” I hear Mrs. Slone bark as the room erupts in gasps and everyone within five feet of me jumps out of their chairs to get out of the way.
