Page 48 of Dirty Roulette

Chapter thirty-two

Ryder

The highway is barren with a few patrol cars passing. Then there are the drunks swerving into my lane and cutting me off. Within fifteen minutes, I’m outside a venue that looks sketchy as fuck, screaming danger.

Graffiti is painted everywhere, and the lawn is overgrown.

Cars are sprawled throughout the parking lot and people move about outside, smoking and drinking.

I crack open the window and fight with an empty lighter until it ignites another joint.

The taste of burning newspaper meets the roof of my mouth before inhaling pure green.

I text Payton again, and she still fails to write back and leaves me on read.

I wedge the phone between my ear and shoulder.

She’s somewhere in that venue with a band pretending they’re Metallica.

I’m seconds away from dragging her out. The phone rings three times before it’s cut off and disconnected.

My palms sweat. This is the last time I’m going to play nice. The phone is slippery in my hands as I dial her again. The only one wanting to answer me is her goddamn voicemail.

“Fucking freshmen!” I holler into the phone and chuck the joint out the window. I want to march up there, fight the security, and break in. I swear, freshmen are all narcissistic parasites who are disconnected from reality. Okay, that’s not fair. But damn it, Payt. I dial again, my blood hammering.

“Hey, you...” Payton says as if she’s curling her index finger around her hair like a preppy brat.

“Can we talk?” I ask. The beat of my heart pounds in my neck. The drums and guitar make my ears bleed. “It’s loud. Are you at a concert?” I act stupid and stare at a group of people walking out the entrance.

“Why? Not like anyone cares... Charlie made it clear you hate me too, and guess what, I’m the biggest slut on campus now.

” She slurs and something is off with her tone of voice.

None of what she says is true. I’m always pissed at her, but there is no way I can hate her and what I feel is completely the opposite.

“Is Charlie there?”

“Yeah... but who cares.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yeah... guess who else is here?” She asks.

“Who?”

“Brody.” She slurs the words.

Then she hangs up. Something feels off. I can’t shake off the shivers crawling up my spine. Brody at a metal concert is way out of character.

I didn’t join the football team to become one of his slaves, and I’m through with him. I’m done. So done with his drinking, picking out the weak girls at parties, and filling their cups before leading them to bed. He’s done.

I’m convinced the world is a stage, and I’m the show. Brody, sits back with a bag of popcorn to watch my life fall apart.

I might as well rip off the mask and stop pretending I like the guy for the world to think we are teammates. I toss my phone to the passenger seat and step into the gravel. The door slams behind me. I’m heavy like my shoes are made of metal.

“You need a ticket, man. It’s ten...” a guy says right at the entrance. I dig out my wallet, throwing him two fives. He slaps a wristband on me as Payton bursts out the front door and curls over the railing. Splatters and heaving overpower the metal band.

“God, you’re like the fifth person yo!” the ticket guy gags and walks off.

I curse under my breath.

“Where is she?” I stumble over, pulling hair away from her cheeks. She swivels around with tears soaking her lashes. Mascara pools down her face, and she points a shaky finger to the door. Her eyes flutter as she slumps to the concrete.

“Payton!” I drop with her and pat her on the cheeks. Gurgling ruptures from her throat, and immediately she vomits again.

“Payton!” I hold back her hair, shaking her to wake up and focus. “Where is she?” I ask.

Her eyes flicker open for a second, and she mumbles. “He took her to the bathroom... he...he.” Chills crawl down my back and my stomach roils, not from her vomit, but from what she said.

“Can you walk to my Jeep?” I dig through my pockets, pulling out the keys and point my finger at it in the distance. “Lock the doors. Don’t move.”

I’m barely breathing, vomit stains my jeans, and I’m drowning in a sea that’s not even there. She fists the keys and she nods.

I walk in. Something snaps inside my brain. It’s like I’m in overdrive and no longer in control. Vibrations of the drums beat inside my chest. There are people everywhere. A guitar breaks out in a solo and I can’t hear anyone talking.

I worm my way through people. It’s dark.

Cigarettes burn with yellow embers. It’s heavy here.

Orange lights flicker against black walls, and pentagrams drawn with red spray paint glow under the dimness of the hell I walked into.

There are several bathroom doors, people coming in and out, then there is one with two silhouettes moving underneath the threshold of a closed door with the tilted bathroom sign.

I grab the doorknob and wiggle it. Locked.

Someone smacks my hand off the door with nasty-looking nails and cheap pony bead bracelets. “Get in line.” A girl with multiple hair colors, and most of it shaved off on one side, points to the line wrapping around the hallway.

I ignore her, grab the doorknob, and bang my shoulder into the door.

“Fucker, I told you there was a line!” She screams in my face, veins in her eyes are bloodshot. What the hell is wrong with her? It’s like she’s on acid. I bang into the door again.

“Someone, come grab this dude! He’s trying to break down a door!” The bitch keeps hollering, and grungy-looking people creep over.

“I don’t want to!” Screams rip out behind the door. It sounds like Charlie, sobbing. There’s a shuffle. Something breaking. Shadows move under the door’s wide gap. “Please! I’ve changed my mind. I can’t! I can’t!”

“Who’s in there?” I ask. “Open the door!” I smash my fist into the wood. That’s when someone brave enough grabs my wrist, pulling me back. I crank my shoulder, elbowing someone in the jaw.

I turn around, pushing another junky to the floor. Profanity, screaming, and a crowd of people flood every inch around me.

I bang my shoulder into the door. It doesn’t budge.

“Open the damn door!”

Everything becomes tense. Someone else pulls my shoulder back.

I swing around, his face eating my fist, and falling into the crowd behind me.

Pressure builds like a dormant volcano erupting for the first time in decades.

My knuckles crack the moment I clench my fists.

I jiggle the handle, pounding with a fist. Thuds and bangs hit on the opposite side of the door and I hear it unlock.

I fling it open. “I don’t want to do this!

” I watch Brody swivel her around, pinning her to the sink.

Satan injected me with gallons of lidocaine. All emotions left, there is nothing there. Everything drains from my face – I’m numb and cold inside.

A ripped condom wrapper sits between Charlie’s boots. Brody’s jeans are dropped to his waist. My sister’s shorts are down to her ankles.

“Please stop!” She struggles with Brody.

“Get off me. I can’t! I don’t love you anymore!

” She elbows him in the stomach, turning around, trying to grab her shorts.

He does it again, he grasps her wrists as she claws her nails into his chest. Her eyes hemorrhage with tears, and he covers her mouth with a hand. “Come on baby, you know you miss this.”

I don’t know how, but everything goes dark. My brain turns off like a light switch, and it registers brief seconds. Pain sears into my knuckles like someone lit me on fire. I snatch him by the collar of his shirt and lose it on him.

“Stop!” Someone else and a group of people yank on my arms. Nothing pulls me off. Straddling Brody, I pummel him with my fists.

I’m not behind the steering wheel. I have no control. I’m on the edge of a cliff, and my grip slips away. Everything is black, but I’m yelling expletives. My throat turns to cotton, and the taste of metal lingers at the tip of my tongue.

“Ryder! Stop!” Charlie heaves out a hysterical sob.

I blink.

And I’m wide awake.

My consciousness comes back and leaves again every few moments.

Charlie’s ebony hair is stuck to her flushed cheeks, drenched with tears.

Something dark and red covers my hands. It’s wet and dry, and it smears onto my shirt as Charlie yanks on the fabric.

It reeks of iron. Brody lies on the floor, unconscious.

A pool of blood flows out of his mouth and nose. It drips from my hands.

They’re soaked.

My knuckles are raw. The flesh scraped off like someone took a vegetable peeler to them.

My chest hurts. My lungs crumbled like an empty soda can.

Charlie pulls up her shorts, her legs tremble, and she can’t even stand. I lift her up into my arms and sprint down the hallway. She burrows her head in my chest. Everyone steps out of my way, but they stare, sipping their red cups as I march out of the exit and into the parking lot.

Payton pulls herself out of the Jeep, running over to me. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” She cries. Somehow, I make it to the Jeep, open the back door, and slip Charlie into the seat.

“It’s all my fault! I... I... I didn’t stop him!” She doubles over, heaves and pukes again.

“Get in the Jeep! Let’s go!”

“I’m so sorry!” She sobs covered in snot and vomit.

“It’s not your fault!”

Payton’s eyes fall back again, and I grab onto her before she collapses face-first into the dirt. I throw her over my shoulder and place her in the back seat. They’re both a mess. Sloppy and completely incoherent at this point.

My brain refuses to register what happened.

I can’t seem to get any oxygen into my lungs as I get in the Jeep.

I beg my brain to work properly, but it’s blocking everything out, and I’m granted only small fragments.

Neurons laugh like the Joker, pouring gasoline all over my memories and setting them on fire.

The taste of blood is on my tongue and my body feels more alive than ever.

My foot pushes down on the gas pedal as I reverse out of the parking space. I can’t stop staring at the dried blood staining the creases in my fingers. It’s smeared all over the steering wheel. It’s like someone handed me a gun and I pulled the trigger. I think I killed Brody.

“Please...” Charlie mumbles in the back. “Ryder please...”

“What?” I ask.

“I need Noah! I didn’t want to leave him, but he made me. He forced me...”

“Are you serious right now? We need to go to the hospital! Brody fucking... he...” I can’t even say the words and stare into the rearview mirror. Charlie’s head wobbles back and forth, her eyes dark and clouded. Payton’s hunches over, completely unconscious.

A police vehicle with flashing lights hightails it into the parking lot. I drive in the other direction, unable to focus on where the exit is.

“No... no!” Charlie sobs, covering her face with two hands. “I have to tell him!”

“They called the police!”

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and I’m not sure if she understands what’s going on. “We need to go to the hospital!” I slam my hands onto the steering wheel, punching it over and over again before I scream a lung out.

“I hate you!” Charlie sobs, balled up in the back seat like a toddler, hysterically screaming and crying. “You stole my best friend, and now I’m going to lose him!”

“I...I...” I choke up, seeing her in the mirror.

“I hate you both!”

“No, Charlie... I...”

“I need to go see Noah!” She shrieks.

“You’re not getting out!”

“I want Noah!” She kicks the back of my seat. I’m jerked forward, swerving in the parking lot. Snot runs down Charlie’s nose like a waterfall. Her cheeks burn crimson red and look raw. She shrieks as we’re all jostled left to right. It breaks me. My heart feels like it’s being peeled apart.

“Charlie!” Every nerve is continuously being electrocuted. My body convulses and my mouth waters and I think I might get sick.

She fights with her seatbelt. “I’m getting out!”

“No! He assaulted you! You’re not getting out!” I slam on the brakes. The tires screech as we skid on the road. Charlie flings forward in the back seat. The stench of burning rubber fills the air the second I come to a complete halt. I inhale a deep breath of fresh oxygen.

“I’m so stupid!” she screams at the top of her lungs, as droplets of saliva run down her chin. “I’m leaving!” she cries, and the snap of the seatbelt screams into my ears. The door lock clicks and opens as she leaps out, making a break for it.

“Charlie!” I unbuckle and run out after her. Then another patrol car comes peeling in with a fire truck. She’s feet from me, running away fast to the flashing lights, and I’m covered in blood.

I feel out of control, and I’m not sure how I’m alive. “Fuck!” I punch the hood of the Jeep. There is no way I can stay here unless I want to be put in cuffs. I slide back into the seat and peel out of the parking lot.