Conclusive of sexual—
That’s all I get through before something metal smacks against the back of my head. The unexpected blow causes me to drop my phone, my head going down and smashing against the floor. I snap into fight mode, attempting to roll to my side, but another strike comes to my back, knocking me back down. I kick my legs out in hopes to trip my assailant, but they take a hard swing to my kneecap. I howl out in pain, grabbing for my wounded knee when two strong hands lift me from the ground. I try to swing, but I’m too dizzy from the crack to my head. A fist meets my eye, and begins pummeling my face in.
I’m fighting not to pass out when I’m dropped to the ground. The air in my lungs seizes, and I hear a gun being cocked. The feel of cold metal presses to my temple, and just as a low chuckle breaks the silence, they pull the trigger.
Mason
Bang. Bang. Bang.
A thudding sound rings out in the distance. More like a muffled echo, because it sounds like millions of miles away.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
There is it again. I think it’s banging, but I’m not sure. I sit up, and pain explodes in the back of my head. What the fuck? Throwing myself back down, I try prying my eyes open, but one seems to be swollen shut. From what I can see, I’m in my apartment, in the middle of the living room. I inspect myself, and there’s blood on my clothes. I take note of my surroundings. How the fuck did I get back here? I remember being in Lillian’s office. The files. The hidden document. I feel around for my phone, but it’s not in my pockets. Fuck.
More banging sounds, but it seems so far away. I lift my hand to my ear and draw back with blood on my fingertips. The gunshot. Whoever that motherfucker was shot out my eardrum. Trying to stand, I groan at the pain radiating from my knee. When I make it to my feet, my door splinters and flies open. Cops explode around me, screaming and pointing their weapons. Their voices are too muffled, but I can understand enough to know they’re telling me to freeze.
“I didn’t do shit,” I say, my own voice seeming distant. My words fall on deaf ears as my arms are ripped behind me and placed into cuffs. “What the fuck!” I fight the officer, groaning at the pain in my head and knee.
“Mason Blackwell, you’re under arrest for the assault of Lillian Griffin. You have the right to remain silent…” the officer starts reading me my rights, and I go buck wild under the restraints.
“You’re kidding me. I didn’t touch that bitch! She’s fucking lying!” A baton hits my back, and memories of two years ago come flooding back. I’m seventeen all over again. Fighting to get to my sister. Away from Lillian.
I’m being dragged out of my apartment when Sloth appears. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you out in an hour. Tight-lipped and quiet. One hour,” he says as I’m hauled out and thrown into the cop car.
“Mr. Blackwell. What were you doing in Mrs. Griffin’s office?”
Silence.
“Did you know she was going to be working late?”
More silence.
“Mr. Blackwell. The security system has you on tape entering the building and assaulting Mrs. Griffin. We don’t need you to confess, we would just like some reasoning behind your attack.”
“Bitch is lying. I didn’t fuckin’ touch her,” I snap, pulling the restraints and leaning over the table. My hard stare doesn’t faze the officer, and I don’t give a fuck.
“Well, the bruises say something else. Can you tell me why you were there? Why you attacked her? She’s told us you’ve been stalking her since the beginning of school. Making unprofessional passes at her. She said she’s only tried to help you. Are you infatuated with your counselor, Mr. Blackwell?”
I try to jump over the table in a fit of rage, but the cuffs locked to my chair stop me. “The only infatuation I have with Lillian Griffin is the lust inside me that craves her blood splattered all over fucking campus.”
The door throws open and Sloth fills the entryway. “I thought I said tight-lipped and quiet?” He rolls his eyes, as if he’s just out for a stroll picking me up for study hour and not in an interrogation room being accused of the bullshit Lillian set me up for.
“Officer Campbell, Mason at this time, is free to go,” says the officer who entered the room with Sloth. Officer Campbell’s lips purse as I stare at the throbbing vein in his forehead. He slams his fist on the table.
“We’re not done here, Mr. Blackwell. Better not go far. With a threat like that, we’ll be watching you.”
I want to spit in his face. The other officer unlocks my cuffs, and I shoot up and follow Sloth out of the police station.
“What the fuck! I didn’t touch Lillian.”
“Didn’t say you did, brother.” Sloth walks down the police department stairs to his car. “Get in. We’ve got some shit to take care of.”
Fuck that. “No, I gotta find that cunt and fuckin’ do what I should’ve done in the beginning.”
“Finding Lillian is not the key to unlocking this shitstorm, my brother. Plus, she’s smart. She’ll know you’re coming for her.” Good. ’Cause when I find her, she’s done for. “She’ll be one step ahead of you, man,” he says, strangely calm, then lights up a smoke as he pulls away from the station.
I’m so blinded by hate and revenge, I don’t give a fuck. “Text Rhett. His girl will know where she’s hiding out.” I massage my fingers around my bruised wrists. I lean over to get a look at myself in the side mirror and wince. My right eye is swollen, and dried blood covers my face and my shirt.
“Got Lust’s location,” Sloth says.
“Let’s go.”
I plow through the front door like a man on a mission. More like a beast ready to rip out the throats of his prey. I stop in the foyer when I’m met by Rhett.
“Whoa! What happened to you? Why are you covered in blood?”
“Where the fuck is she!” I yell through the house.
“Who, man?”
“Lillian!” I grab for the first thing near me and smash it against the wall, blind with rage. When Chastity suddenly appears, I jump toward her. “Where the fuck is Lillian?” I demand. Rhett steps forward, bringing a scared Chastity to his side.
“Where the fuck is Lillian!” I roar, not caring how fucking manic I look right now. Rhett becomes territorial over his girl, placing her behind him like I may attack her or some shit, but she pushes him away.
“Babe, it’s fine. He wouldn’t hurt me. She’s at my uncle’s, why?”
“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Rhett demands. “Whose blood is that?”
I don’t wait around to explain. I storm out, leaving Sloth behind. Before he has a chance to get back in the car, I jump in the driver’s seat and burn out. I need to do this alone. I can’t, and won’t, have another brother go down for me.
I race through the streets, breaking speed limits left and right, until I pull up to the gates of the Benedict mansion. The gate is closed, so I slam on the intercom, waiting for someone to open it—to no avail. Getting back in the car, I put it in reverse, then hit the gas and slam into the gate. The steel rods bend, but don’t allow me access. I reverse again, then punch back down on the gas. Two more hits, and the gate opens.
I speed up the long driveway, and once I pull up to the house, I jump out and race toward the door. That’s when it flies open. I’m about to haul myself at them when Megan fills the doorway.
I halt before crashing into her. Her eyes are swollen and red. She’s been crying. Fuck.
“Megan—”
“How could you?”
“Megan, listen to me—”
She smacks me hard across my already bruised and broken face. “You’re sick, you know that? My aunt told me everything. I saw the bruises. How could I have been so blind?” She starts crying. I attempt to reach for her, but she swats my hand away as if my touch disgusts her. “Don’t you dare touch me. Don’t ever touch me again! I know your whole plan! I know everything!” she yells on a hoarse sob.
“Megan, no you don’t. Lillian’s fucking lying to you.”
“How dare you. You think I’m gonna believe you over my own aunt? A felon with a record a mile long. Drugs, theft, abuse? You’re not even eighteen. All this time…”
“Those charges were years ago when I was a fucking kid. That abuse allegation came from Lillian herself. I didn’t do shit! It was her way of keeping her claws in me—”
“Stop lying! I know everything, you sick bastard. Your obsession with her. How you were stalking her. She told me you weren’t even a student at St. Augustine. I looked into you. And there are no records of a Mason Blackwell registered.”
The fuck? “Listen, that was all her.”
“Get out of here, or I’m going to call the police.”
“Babe—”
“GET OUT! I want you gone. I thought we…I thought…” She begins to sob harder. I take a step toward her, but she throws her hand out to stop me. “I’ve been so foolish with you. Little did I know I was just part of your plan to blackmail my aunt.”
“What are you talking about? No! What we have is—”