Chapter Two - Snot face

Chapter Two - Snot face

I go to the parking lot and get into my car. At this point, my eyes are red, and my vision is blurry. I slam my fists into the wheel and scream into the car.

Maddox and Rita. How could they do this to me? I accepted Rita into the cheer team because she had the skills. She was a great performer and very enthusiastic about cheerleading, which was the right spirit for the team. That two faced twat!

 I had been open and welcoming to her, treating her like an equal. Yet she had lied to my face and gotten with my boyfriend. Maddox

How could he do that to me? We’ve been together for so long. My heart hurt, and my breathing turned shallow. I felt like I was suffocating.

The tears suddenly begin to flow. I swat them away angrily. I don’t want to cry because of them. But just then, someone passes by. She sees me and immediately lifts her phone to record. Jesus Christ, a girl can’t even be heartbroken and cry in her car?

I quickly start the car and drive off campus. I had no privacy here at all.

I don’t know where to go. Mom and Dad would probably be home. I don’t want them seeing me like this and asking what was wrong? How could I explain properly? I take turns wrongly and run red lights. A couple of people scream at me, and others give me the middle finger, but they are just background nothings compared to what I am going through right now.

I kept driving without a destination for hours, then I realised I was in the other part of town. The rough side of town. It was getting late, and I needed to turn back. My fuel had run low.

I pick up my phone to check for the nearest gas station. It's 10 pm, and my phone was on 1% battery. There were ten missed calls from Mom and twelve from Dad. 17 from Ashley and a couple of girls from the team. So many tagged notifications on I*******m. I try to open G****e Maps, but my phone dies suddenly.

Fuck my life. I don’t want to risk getting down to ask for a charger. I was driving a bright pink G- wagon and wearing my East Rivers Cheer captain uniform, a fitted white, cropped top, a tiny, matching pleated skirt with golden rims, and knee-high socks. It was polished, expensive, and designed to turn heads. Which was exactly what I didn’t want to do right now. Having no choice, I drove to a nearby convenience store that looked a little clean and nice, and got down heading inside to ask for a charger, but then three burly men holding cans of beer stepped out. They’ve obviously been drinking. They stink of alcohol, and their clothes give them away as construction workers. I try not to scrunch my nose or visibly react to them, holding my expression inside.

“What a cute little thing. Smile for us, eh ?” One of them comments, looking at me with hungry eyes.

I frowned harder in response, ignoring him and attempting to side-step him, but the second guy crossed me.

“Don’t be in such a hurry. East River's uniform. You must cheer for the hockey team. Pretty little bitches you things are.” Another one says lewdly.

“I’ve never seen one of you in person, much less the Prescott girl herself.” The third adds, looking at my name batch.

“Shit, it's the captain herself? You’re my favroite you know? I beat my shit to you. ” The first guy says, almost drooling on the floor.

I dig my fingers into my palm, holding back from reacting to the disgusting pig.

“Shit, I imagine it’s her tight cunt I’m fucking when I’m with my wife.” The second says, and the three break into laughter.

I’m seeing red, but I remind myself not to react. I was in an unfamiliar part of town, and anything could happen to me. I shouldn’t risk it.

‘Restrain yourself, Ava Prescott. When you’re back home safe, you can deal with this trash.’

I repeat these words to myself and walk past them towards the shop, but wth alcohol running in their system, a fake sense of courage must have taken over them. One guy grabs my arms, causing bile to rise up my throat at the contact.

“Come and have fun with us captain, do some of your moves for us. Mm?” his alcoholic breath fills my nose from how close he is to me.

“Let me go.” My tone is dangerous, warning, deadly.

He doesn’t. I don’t say it again. I lift my car key, stabbing the hand that was holding on to me with all my strength. Blood spurts out. He lets me go, clutching his injured arm and yelling obscenities at me.

“You fucking bitch.” He lurches towards me, but I dodge in time. I don't wait to see his reaction.I run. I’m fit and athletic from all the cheer I do, making me faster than they are.

My trainers pound against the pavement as I sprint down the street, weaving between startled pedestrians. My lungs burn with every breath, but the pounding footsteps behind me never stop.

"There she is!"

"Don't let the little bitch get away!"

Panic surges through me.

I shove past a fruit stall, sending baskets crashing to the ground. Bright oranges, apples, and mangoes spill across the street, rolling beneath people's feet.

"Hey!" the vendor yells after me. Someone curses as they slip on the fruit. I don't look back. I cut through another row of market stalls, nearly colliding with a woman carrying shopping bags. She screams, dropping them as I race past. Behind me, the men barrel straight through the crowd, knocking people aside without a second thought. My chest feels like it's on fire. Come on... just a little farther. I dart between two wooden stalls, but the hem of my tiny pleated skirt catches on the corner of a splintered crate.

Rip.

"Shit!" I yank it free without stopping.

My breathing turns ragged. My legs are beginning to give out. Cheer practice had prepared me for routines, not being hunted through a night market by drunken psychopaths.

"There!" one of them roars. “She went that way!"

Another man steps into my path, grabbing for my arm.

I twist away just in time, but my foot lands on a crushed orange. It shoots out from under me.

My balance disappears. I crash sideways into stacked sacks of flour. White powder explodes into the air, coating my hair, my uniform, my skin. Coughing, I scramble backwards on my hands and knees, desperate to get up, but my back slams into a brick wall.

No. No, no, no.

I look left. A dead end.

Right. Three men. 

One of them stalks toward me, his face twisted with rage.

"Found you." His fingers clamp around my arm, yanking me violently to my feet.

“You disrespectful little whore. You’d pay for what you’ve done.” He drags me towards an old pickup truck. The other two join us. The guy who touched me is still bleeding profusely. I had deliberately stabbed an artery. Good.

“Hand over your car keys.” The guy demands.

“Of course. It's just a useless car.” I smile. “Fetch”, I flung the key to the floor…. away from me.

The man grabs my hair painfully. “I’m going to teach you a lesson, you wench. You pick up the fucking keys and hand them over like a good bitch.” He legit tosses me toward the floor. I fall down, scraping my knee.

“Since you want the car so bad, go and pick it up like the lowlife you are.” I toss back at him.

He lifts his hand to smack the words out of my mouth, but just then, someone catches the man's wrist before the slap lands. The grip looked effortless. A tall shadow fell over me, and I lifted my head to look at him.

“For someone who spent years acting like a queen..." He looks at my bloodied knees. "...you sure cry a lot, snot face." His steel-grey eyes that looked like winter lock onto me.

Of all the people in this city...It had to be him.

Zane Volkov.

Six-foot-four, broad shoulders stretching a black hoodie over a body built from years on the ice, Messy jet black hair, a hockey duffel hung over one shoulder, and his stupidly handsome poker face that I could never, ever read. I hated that about him the most.

Captain of the West Rivers Titans Hockey team, our school's rival team, my next-door neighbour and childhood enemy.

Respectfully, fuck my life.