Page 10 of Make Me Scream (Visceral #2)

ABEL

Doc:

You cheer for the game tonight, right?

My throat closes as I read Elise’s text, knowing in my gut what it’s about.

I type slowly.

Me:

Yeah.

I see the text bubble pop up immediately, which tells me she was waiting for my reply.

Doc:

I’ll come early. Can we find somewhere to talk before it starts?

My heart sinks.

Me:

Sure.

Doc:

It’ll be okay, honey. I’ll see you in a little bit. 3

“Yeah. It’s all fucking fantastic,” I mutter as I shove my phone back in my pocket.

My legs shake restlessly on the gymnasium floor.

The heel of my tattered Converse echoes, and my eyes follow the sound to the concrete brick wall, back behind the bleachers where Peris fucked me within an inch of my life?—

“Hey, Abel.”

Every muscle in my body tenses at the unexpected voice, but I don’t dare flinch—some habits die hard.

“Lance.” I nod and give him a small smile. I haven’t talked to him for a little while. I’m a shit friend and an even shitter person. Sue me.

“How have you been?” he asks, big eyes wide in genuine curiosity. My lips quirk in a small grin. I forgot how cute he was.

“I’ve been fine, buddy. How are you?” I arch a brow and lean back on the bleachers behind me, extending my arms and widening my stance. Lance’s eyes follow the lines of my body shrouded in my baggy clothes, which fall every which way on my lanky form.

When I catch him staring, he just flushes slightly, then shrugs. “Whatever. I’ve been good. Haven’t seen you around much. Finally caught you not fucking off.”

“Ahh,” I muse. “Got me in rare form today.”

“Seems so. Not breaking the law today, then?”

“Not yet,” I smirk, waving my brows. Lance rolls his eyes, smiling widely.

The doors push open, drawing our attention. A few groups of people walk in, heading our way. Some classes must’ve been dismissed early if they’re already coming in for the game to get good seats.

I have no idea who we’re playing against, but it seems basketball is always a pretty big deal for Ardent.

All I really give a shit about is wearing the cute ass cheer uniform and watching Peris get sweaty… and also watching Peris watch me in said uniform.

The three groups that walked in meander their way to different parts of the bleachers. Two of them are part of the “jocks”, the others the “nerds”, all lost in their own conversations, completely unaware they’re being observed by me.

“Got any plans for Thanksgiving break?” Lance asks, breaking me out of my people-watching trance.

“Uh.” My brows furrow, and I feel myself frowning. “No,” I finally decide on.

“Oh. Well…” I look at Lance out of the corner of my eye, leaning my elbows on my knees. “Would you wanna hang out, maybe?”

“I’m not fucking you, Lance,” I tell him bluntly, just to get that out of the way.

His pale face reddens in blotches. “Jesus, Abel, no! That’s not what I mean. I mean as friends. Only, ” he enunciates, using his hands in weird gestures, like it means something.

My face scrunches, confused. “Okay…” I drawl, cutting off his panicked ranting. “Really?”

He heaves out a breath, like he can finally breathe. “Yes, really. Shit. I don’t feel like dying today, thanks,” he mutters, and I can’t help but snicker.

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Yeah. Anyway, you have my number, so just let me know?” he asks as he pushes to his feet, eyes darting to the left every few seconds.

“Yeah, I will.”

“Cool. See you later, Abel.”

As he starts to walk away, my heart begins to hammer. “Hey, Lance?”

He turns around and slows his steps. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.” His smile is big, and I return it in jest, crooked teeth and all.

“Who the fuck are you smiling at, runt?” A voice slithers like a snake down my spine. I shiver involuntarily.

“It’s sure as shit not you, is it?” I bite back, which earns me a yank of my braided hair, the strand from my bow bouncing in the air.

“Watch it, fucker,” I snap, wrenching away from him.

“Abel.” It’s whispered, low and slow and venomous.

A deadly warning.

One I’ll never heed.

“Peris, ” I taunt, just before loping away, tattered backpack slung over my shoulder. “See you later, baby.” And with my farewell, I blow him a kiss as I skip out the doors to head to the roof to get stoned before I have to have this awful conversation with Elise.

“Thursday,” I deadpan.

“I’m so sorry, Abel.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I wish I was.” She reaches out to touch me, and I step back on instinct. A part of me feels guilty watching her face fall, but mostly, I just feel numb.

I have to see Lucy in less than two days—alone.

On fucking Thanksgiving.

Not that I give a shit about the holiday, but it would’ve been my first real holiday with the Baxters as a… a family…

And now…

It’s all ruined by her, yet again.

“What do you need from me?” Elise asks, her golden-green eyes wide and sincere.

“Nothing,” I answer on instinct.

“Abel, I mean it. I am here for you. For anything. I hope you know that. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through right now, but I’ll do anything I can to help you through this.

” And this time, when she reaches out, I force myself to stay put, even if my skin is crawling with repulsion when her skin grazes mine.

I want to burn it off—and I will just as soon as she leaves.

“I know. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done—which has been more than I’ve ever known.”

“You deserve that and more, honey.” Her words clog my throat, and I can’t say any more because then I’ll fucking cry, and that’s not going to happen.

“I’m always going to be here for you, Abel.

Even when…” She pauses, and I can hear the tears clogging her throat, and it’s too fucking much.

I step forward and wrap my arms around her middle.

Elise’s breath hitches, and then, she’s crying, arms wrapped around me and head tipped down as she holds onto me.

A few tears of my own leak through my clenched eyelids but not enough to be shown on our clothes as we hold onto each other for long minutes in the empty bathroom.

It’s one of the most memorable moments of my life.

And unfortunately, I’m about to ruin it.

I slowly pull away, and she takes it as a sign to let me go easily. She steps back and swipes her fingers under her eyes, cleaning her bleeding mascara the best she can. I reach into a stall and grab some toilet paper for her.

“Thanks, honey,” she chuckles. “Even when you’re with her, ” she grinds out, “I will still do what I can to help take care of you. You’ll always be one of my kids, okay?”

I don’t know what to say to that because it can’t ever be true…

“Okay,” I whisper, staring down at the floor. A few strands of silvery-white hair drop in front of my eyes, and I’m grateful for the obstruction.

“I’m sorry to have to do this before your game. I didn’t want to distract you, but I knew you’d want to know as soon as possible, but I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“No, I know,” I placate her. “This is good. I appreciate you telling me now. It’s better to know. I’ll be fine.” When she frowns, I smile widely. “I’m always fine, doc. Don’t you worry about me.”

I can tell she doesn’t know how to respond to that because after a few moments, she smiles sadly and says, “I’ll see you out there, honey. You’ll do great.” And then, she’s gone, and I’m alone, just how it should be.

The door to the stall is slamming shut, and my skirt is hiked around my waist in the next few seconds.

The damn spanks are in the way, and they bite into my skin and squish my balls as I shove them up too, but the sting of the burn is what I need, so it becomes secondary as I rifle through my bag for one of my many pink lighters.

The first two only spark, irritating me, but on the third, a flame flickers to life, and I watch it dance for many seconds before releasing the trigger and immediately pressing the silver into my flesh, directly where my thighs meet so I know with every step, every jump, every cheer, I’ll feel it all night long.

My eyes roll back as my molars slam together, the rush of the sting overwhelming for the first few seconds before my breath rushes out and the euphoria engulfs me.

I lose myself to the frenzy of it.

The dance of the flame, the char of silver, and then the blister of my scarred flesh as they meet over and over.

I’m dizzy, each breath quick and gasping, but I can’t stop. My body is in flames.

“Abel!”

I startle, my eyes shooting open wide. The lighter slips from my sweaty fingers and clatters to the floor. I watch in horror as it slides across the tiled floor and out from underneath the stall.

Sierra bends down to swipe it up but hisses when her fingers make contact with the hot plastic. “You better not be getting fucking high right now, Abel,” she admonishes me.

“I-I’m n-not,” I stutter, teeth chattering in a mix of fear and adrenaline.

“Good. I know you’re going through shit, but we’ve gotta start warming up. You coming?”

“Yeah. I’ll be-be out in-in a m-minute,” I finally spit out, my eyes squeezed shut as hot tears spring to the surface. I wrap my arms around my middle and hold myself as tightly as I can, but it doesn’t do a damn thing other than make my thighs sting.

“Okay. Don’t take too long.”

Her footsteps retreat, and it’s a blissful reprieve because the moment the silence descends, the tears fall, and the sobs finally make their escape. They’re wretched and ugly and hateful—just like me.

My body is wracked with their force, and I press my palms to my freshly abused thighs to steady myself, hissing at the waves of pain it brings—but then, I straighten at the burst of clarity and squeeze a bit tighter.

Blood seeps between my fingers. Not enough to drip down but in a disgusting ooze mixed with plasma. I watch it with rapt attention as it makes its way between the cracks of pressure, my reddened, blistered skin bursting alongside it.

My thighs are a massacre by the time I’m finally able to stand. Holding the frills of my skirt around my waist, I unlatch the door and waddle to the sink, avoiding my eyes in the mirror I pass on the way.

There are only some things I can handle right now, and seeing my mother’s face staring back at me is not fucking one of them.

I yank handfuls of paper towels from the holder and wet them in the sink. “Shit,” I yelp when the cold water hits the fresh wounds, but it’s also disheartening to wipe the blood and plasma away.

The smiley face’s looking back at me are quite disgusting and disfigured, and they happen to be my favorite ones yet.

How painfully fucking ironic.

I don’t waste time trying to do a good enough job—just enough so I don’t look more of a freak than I already do.

When a quick glance down tells me I can’t see blood, I toss the used paper towels in the trash, readjust my spanks with a deep breath because fuck my balls ache, and drop my skirt.

I’m ready to go cheer like nothing’s wrong in my life and all I care about is some stupid fucking basketball game.

“About time,” Sierra hisses when I saddle up beside them and drop my bag against the wall with all the rest.

“Alas, here I am.” I throw my arms out, causing my top to rise up my abdomen. The sensation has my eyes searching for Peris, but he’s somewhere amongst the masses of purple-clad players squeaking their way across the gymnasium floor.

“So, who are we playing tonight?”

“The Nevada Cubs,” Lorelai says, smacking her glossy lips. I arch a brow as I follow the pattern of stretches everyone else is doing.

“Abel, you need to get a pair of white shoes. Does anyone have shoes Abel can borrow?” Ms. B frowns right at me. I return it with a sly grin, feigning innocence.

A bunch of murmured no’s and sorry’s follow, and her frown deepens. “Fine, I guess it’ll have to do. But please, let’s get it figured out, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod with a big, bright smile, which she returns, her dark curly hair bouncing as she laughs.

“All right, let’s go through a few practice cheers before we start. Let’s get lined up!”

I never let my fake smile drop, even when I see my own face looking back at me through the crowd with eyes so similar, yet much, much darker.