Trilogy In Hell

Karel

The cold air did nothing to my sweating palms. I found my way back home, flinching at any slight noise around. I stumbled four times on thorns, it still didn’t wake me up. Ferdi’s text still fresh in my brain after the cops were gone. “Two. Mark it on your skin if you have to. So you don’t forget who owns them.”

Now I owe him something without asking him for anything. Bastard. It was past 2am when I got home. Turned in the keys and entered. I halted mid-step when Trenton came into view. His gaze swept my bloody clothes, then my face. He didn’t speak. His eyes already said it all. He poured another glass for himself, making the empty bottle on the floor eight. I scrunched my nose up and headed for my room. Then I heard his dragging voice. “Why did you come back? You should’ve stayed where you were.”

I bit my tongue till it ached. I wanted to ignore him and just walk off but I turned. “What I do is none of your business. Don’t interfere in my mess, I’ve gotten enough today, Trenton.” The words came off my mouth without stopping. My voice came lower than I expected. “When I need you, I’ll come to you.”

All the while, Trenton didn’t look at me, just stared at his drink like it mattered, then. “Don’t come back by this time again.”

I stared at him. That was it?

Not are you hurt? Not what happened? Just another rule.

For one stupid second I’d thought he’d noticed the blood on my shirt because a little part of his stupid self cared.

I should have known better.

I scoffed loudly for him to hear. He’s placing a curfew on me? I laughed at the thought. What a stepdad.

I trudged up the stairs, my shoes soft against the tile. Zayne’s door shut as soon as I reached it. I shrugged, he must have heard the conversation. I didn’t care either. I stood at the entrance of my room, the blinding light could see through me. I suddenly felt weak, my injuries punching me hard against the ribs. I should see a doctor at this rate. I peeled my clothes off and stood in front of my mirror. The scars were already tattoos on my body. Purple bruises climbed over my ribs. Old scars crossed newer ones until I couldn’t tell which belonged to Trenton and which belonged to life.

I dragged my fingers over one on my shoulder.

Maybe that was the worst part. Pain had become ordinary.

I washed the streets off my body. But Ferdi’s face still didn’t leave. I opened his text and read over and over, like it would change the words. But it never did. I saved his number as Bastard. I switched my phone off. Crashed after counting the ceilings over and over again.

I closed my eyes.

Every time I did, a wrist exploded. Blood everywhere. Sirens and Ferdi’s text. I opened my eyes again.

Sleep never came.

---

The morning crawled. I put on a pullover twice my size as I whizzed through the students. Dael and Miguel attended class but I made excuses. There’s no need to be there when I won’t even focus. I hung around the building till I bumped into someone. “Oh,” I mouthed, seeing the coffee mess I made on his shirt. “You okay?” he asked and I looked up at him. Caine? The best swimmer at the Olympics. His perfect boxy smile reached his ears.

“Why are you smiling? What’s so funny?” I crossed my arms with a frown.

“Nothing, your expression was priceless.”

Nice people usually wanted something, that’s why I never trusted them.

No one smiled that much without asking for a price.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I just stained your shirt and you still smile at me?”

“Oh, it’s that bad?” He looked down at himself. “Help me change.”

“Sorry?” My mouth fell open. He was serious about this.

“Yeah, that’s your punishment.”

I followed him to the restroom, brought a new shirt from his car. He changed into it. I sat at the bench and waited till he came out. His little smile still intact. “You waited.”

“Not for you,” I retorted sharply before he thought I had something weird going on in my mind.

He moved closer to me. “You’re Devan, right?” I nodded. “It’s nice meeting you.” I took his hand which lingered a second too long. My phone vibrated again.

I took it. Bastard’s text: ‘Leave there.’

My stomach dropped. I looked around sharply, every possible place my eyes could sweep; rooftops, trees, hallways.

Nothing.

It made my heart race faster. Last night’s incident flooded my mind.

For Caine’s safety I moved two steps back then turned on my heels.

The field was like every other practice day, only I wasn’t training with them. Coach told me it wasn’t necessary since I wouldn’t be playing. My glares didn’t do anything to stop him.

Everything was quiet till Dwight Janson walked up to me, the president’s son. The bum who everyone avoids not because he was scary but because his dad takes people to cell. He held my shoulders roughly. “Guess who’s not playing in the nationals.”

His dogs laughed and chanted my name like a hymn.

“Just look how helpless you are, huh? All this pretty face for show.” He patted my shoulders again. And they laughed, always laughing at what’s never funny.

I bit down hard till my teeth ached. I shoved his hand off my shoulder. But I didn’t say a word. Just held my curses in.

“What are you gon’ do now, Devan? Your name isn’t on the list.” He touched me again.

“Get your hands off me,” I gritted quietly.

“What did you say?” He lowered his stupid face close to my lips. “Mind saying that again, sacred ritual?”

“Get your hands off,” I repeated, my fist clenching at their cackles.

“What are you gonna do?” Dwight touched me again and I punched his hands off, standing up to meet his gaze.

“I asked what are you gonna do?” He hit me on the shoulders again.

Count to five, Karel. Ignore him and walk away. Coach already hates me. I’ll get locked up and Ferdi will laugh.

I counted.

Two.

Dwight shoved me again.

Three.

My fist moved before four.

The noise breathed in.

“I’ll fucking do nothing, Dwight. Fucking nothing.” I spat on the floor and walked off the field. I could hear the team stare. I couldn’t care less, when I had something else to think about, because I just punched the president’s son, and Mr President wouldn’t sit watching his son cry.

He’ll come for me. Definitely come for me. I held my head under the school tap, wanting to tear it out.

What a fool, Karel! You’re just a raccoon in this school, how many times do I have to recite that.

Someone touched me from behind, the cold hands made me flinch. I turned sharply. “Holy creep!” splashing water over their faces.

But Kirra, the class president, came into view. Her cold gaze swept down my wet shirt and hair. Then down at the mess I’d done to her crisp white shirt. “Coach wants to see you.”

My stomach twisted. I almost fell over. News travelled faster than students in this school. Had coach heard about Dwight?

Or…

About last night…