Page 2 of Nightfall (Devil's Night #4)

Emory

Nine Years Ago

“Why are you quitting?”

I stood there, avoiding my coach’s eyes as I gripped the strap of my bookbag that hung across my chest.

“I don’t have time,” I told her. “I’m sorry.”

I risked a glance, seeing her gaze hard on me under the short blonde hair hanging just over her eyes. “You made a commitment,” she argued. “We need you.”

I shifted on my feet, a curtain of self-loathing covering every inch of me.

This was shitty. I knew that.

I was good at swimming. I could help the team, and she put a lot of work into training me over the last year. I didn’t want to quit.

But she’d just have to deal with it. I couldn’t explain, even if not explaining meant that she’d misunderstand my silence as being irresponsible and selfish.

The voices of all the girls outside the office filled the locker room as they got ready for practice, and I felt her eyes on me, waiting for a response.

It was useless, though. I wasn’t going to change my mind.

“Is there something else going on?” she asked.

I squeezed the strap across my chest, the fabric cutting into my hand.

But I drew a deep breath and pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, straightening my spine. “No one’s giving me a scholarship for swimming,” I spat out. “I need to spend my time doing things that will get me into college. This was a waste.”

Before she could fire back, or the look on her face made this hurt worse, I spun around and pulled open her door, leaving her office.

Tears lodged in my throat, but I pushed them down.

This sucked. I was going to pay for this. It wasn’t over. I knew that.

But I had no choice.

The ache in my back fired up as I stalked through the locker room, and I slammed my hand into the door, feeling the pain in my wrist shoot up my arm before stepping into the hallway.

But I pushed through it, ignoring the discomfort as I headed down the nearly empty corridor.

I was glad I got out of there before she asked why I wasn’t quitting band, too. Band wouldn’t get me into college, either. I wasn’t that good.

It was just all I had left now that got me out of the house, and I didn’t have to wear a swimsuit to do it.

I chewed on my lip, a ten-ton truck sitting on my shoulders as I stared at the floor. I headed for my locker without looking where I was going, because I’d walked this path a million times. Just keep it together. Time would pass. Life would move on. I was heading in the right direction.

Just keep going.

A few students milled around the halls, here early because of clubs or other sports, and I reached my locker, dialing in the combination. It was still a bit before the first class started, but I could go hide in the library to kill time. It was better than being home.

Emptying my bag of my math and physics that I’d finished last night, I pulled my binder, my lit book, my copy of Lolita, and my Spanish text from my locker, holding everything in one arm as I dug on the top shelf for my pencil bag.

He was going to find out I’d quit. Maybe I had a few days’ peace before that happened, but a knot tightened in my stomach, and I could still taste the coppery cut in my mouth from two days ago.

He was going to find out. He wouldn’t want me to quit swimming, and pointing out why I had to would only make him angrier.

I blinked a few times, no longer really searching for my pens or pencils as the searing pain under my hair from the other night raced across my scalp again.

I hadn’t cried when he pulled it.

But I retreated. I always flinched.

Laughter went off somewhere down the hall, and I glanced over, seeing some students loitering against the lockers. Girls in their school uniforms, skirts rolled up much shorter than the three inches above the knee we were allowed, and blouses too tight under their navy blue jackets.

I narrowed my eyes.

With heads together and smiling as they joked around with the guys, the whole group looked about as shallow as a rain puddle. Never deep enough to be more than what it was.

Shallow, boring, tedious, ignorant, and insipid. All the rich kids here were like that.

I watched Kenzie Lorraine lean into Nolan Thomas, her mouth moving over his like she was melting into him. She whispered against his lips, and his white teeth flashed through his little grin before he slid his hands around her waist and leaned back against the lockers. My heart skipped a small beat, and I felt my pencil bag, absently sliding it into my satchel without taking my eyes off them.

Shallow, boring, tedious, ignorant, and insipid.

I blinked, my expression softening as I watched them.

Happy, excited, brave, wild, and in heaven.

They looked seventeen.

And suddenly, for a moment, I wished I was them. Anyone other than me. No wonder hardly anyone at this school liked me. I was even tired of myself.

Wouldn’t it be fantastic to be really happy for just five minutes?

Her friends hung around, talking to his, but I only saw him and her, wondering how it felt. Even if it wasn’t true love, it had to feel good to be wanted.

But just then, Nolan opened his eyes. He looked over at me, meeting my gaze head on as if he knew I was here the whole time. The vein in my neck pounded, and I was frozen.

Shit.

He didn’t stop kissing her, though, holding my eyes as they moved together. Then…he winked at me, and I could see his smile through the kiss.

I rolled my eyes and looked away. Great. Emory Scott was a pervert. That’s what he’d say. Just what I needed.

I turned back to my locker, embarrassed, and slammed the door.

Everything ached, and I arched my back, trying to stretch the muscles, but just as I turned around to leave, a fist came down and knocked my books out of my arms.

I sucked in a breath, startled as I retreated a step on instinct.

Miles Anderson glared at me as he passed, but a smirk curled his lips, too.

“See something you like, stupid?” he taunted.

I clenched my jaw, trying to get control of the pounding in my chest, but the sudden fright made my stomach roll as his friends followed him, laughing.

His blond hair laid haphazardly over his forehead, while his blue eyes trailed down my form, and I knew exactly what he was taking stock of.

The outdated plaid pattern of my secondhand skirt.

The missing button on the cuff of my blouse that was two sizes too big.

My faded blue blazer with little pieces of thread sticking off the patch-ups I had to do from the previous owner.

My worn shoes, from all the walking because I had no car, and how I never wore makeup or did anything with my dark hair that just hung down my arms and in my face.

So much different than how he looked. How they all looked.

Little shits. I let Anderson have his pathetic fun, because it was the only time he had any power. One thing I could be grateful to the Horsemen for.

I hated how this school was their own personal playground, but when they were around, Miles Anderson didn’t pull shit like that. I could bet he was probably counting the days until they graduated so he could take over the basketball team.

And Thunder Bay Prep.

Clenching my jaw, I crouched down and gathered up my books, stuffing everything into my bag.

But a light sweat covered my face all of a sudden, and I felt sick. Pushing myself to my feet, I blew out a breath and hurried for the bathroom, the closest one up the stairs and down the hall.

My stomach filled with something, the burn of the bile rising up my throat growing stronger. Throwing my weight into the door, I pushed through and dove into a stall, leaning over the toilet and heaving.

I lurched, the vomit rising just enough to taste the acid, but it wouldn’t come up any farther. I coughed, my eyes watering as I gasped.

I pushed my glasses up on top of my head, holding the sides of the stall as I drew in breath after breath to calm down.

I rubbed my eyes. Shit.

I fought back sometimes.

When it didn’t matter and when I wasn’t really threatened.

I wiped my brow and flushed the toilet on habit, exiting the stall and walking to the sink. Turning on the water, I dipped my hands underneath the faucet, but then I paused, my energy to even splash water on my face now gone. I just turned it off and left the bathroom, wiping my hands dry on my skirt.

I was too tired, and the day had barely started.

But as soon as I opened the door, someone stood there, and I stopped short, looking at Trevor Crist. He smiled at me as I fisted the strap of my bag, staring at him.

He was only a freshman, two years my junior, but he was already my height and looked absolutely nothing like his brother. Fake, plastic eyes that didn’t match his smile, and dark blond hair that was as perfectly styled as his tie was positioned.

He looked like his name should be Chad. What the hell did he want?

He held out a blue notebook, and I recognized the frayed notes and loose papers inside, highlighted with scribbled yellow marker. I darted my eyes back down the hall toward my locker.

I must’ve left it behind when that jackass knocked everything out of my hands.

I took the notebook, stuffing it into my bag. “Thank you,” I mumbled.

“I got it all, but I can’t be sure it’s in order,” he said. “Some of the papers fell out.”

I barely heard him, noticing the hallways filling with more students, and Mr. Townsend make his way for my first class.

“Trevor Crist.” The kid held out his hand.

“I know.”

And I walked past him, ignoring his hand.

Heading a few yards down the hall, I held open the door, following another student inside, and scanned the classroom for the safest seat. In the corner, at the rear and near the windows, an empty desk sat surrounded by students at every available angle-Roxie Harris next to me, Jack Leister in front of me, and Drew Hannigan kitty-corner.

I ran for it.

I slid into the seat, the legs of the desk skidding across the floor as I dropped my bag to the ground.

“Ugh,” Roxie groaned beside me, but I ignored her as I dug my materials out of my bag.

And she started to pack up her things.

The classroom filled, chatter and laughter pouring in as Mr. Townsend stood, hovering over his desk and going through his notes.

But Roxie didn’t even have time to clear out of her seat before they were there. Drifting through the door, tall, magnetic, and always together.

I turned my head toward the window, closing my eyes behind my glasses and holding my breath as I quickly pulled my earbuds out of my jacket pocket and stuck them in my ears.

Anything to look unapproachable.

Please, please, please…

The prayer was too late, though. I could feel Roxie, Jack, and Drew’s eye rolls as they sighed and grabbed their shit, vacating their seats without even being asked, like it was my fault these guys insisted on completely crowding me no matter where I sat in this damn room.

Kai Mori slid into Jack’s seat ahead of me, while Damon Torrance took the seat diagonally from me.

I didn’t have to look up to see their dark hair, and I could always tell who was who without checking because Kai smelled like amber musk and the ocean, while Damon smelled like an ashtray.

Michael Crist had probably planted himself somewhere close, but it was the last body, passing me in the aisle and planting himself in the seat next to me in what should’ve been Roxie’s seat, that made my heart beat faster.

I could feel his eyes on me as I stared out the window.

If I knew we were going to share classes when the administration decided to move me to senior English a few weeks back-a year ahead of schedule-I would’ve said no. No matter what my brother wanted.

I was pretty sure they only moved me, because I was “difficult” last year and they thought challenging me would put a cork in my mouth.

They were all finding out that wasn’t true.

“You’re out of uniform,” I heard some girl whisper.

And then I heard Will Grayson’s voice heating the back of my neck. “I’m in disguise,” he told her.

“That piece of shit has a hard-on for you or something,” Damon added. “Every time he sees you, he wants to get you alone.”

I clenched my fingers around my notebook and pencil.

“In his defense,” Kai chimed in, “it was you who put the ‘Sorry, I hit your car’ notes on people’s vehicles all over town with his phone number on them.”

Damon snorted and then burst out laughing, while Will breathed out a self-satisfied chuckle.

Assholes . My brother’s phone rang all damn night last night because of that prank. And when he’s aggravated, he shows it.

“So, what do you say, Em?” Will prodded, finally engaging me like he could never stop himself from doing. “Is your brother hot for me? He’s certainly on my ass enough.”

I remained silent, absently opening my notebook as people got situated in their seats and talked around us.

Everyone in this school hated my brother. Their money and connections had no effect on his willingness as a police officer to hand out speeding tickets, parking tickets, investigate noise complaints, or shut down parties and drinking as soon as he got a whiff of anything going down.

My brother was a jerk for doing his job, and when they couldn’t come at him, they came at me.

I saw Will dig something out of his pocket, and I watched him unwrap a piece of candy and lift it to his mouth, peeling the sweet off the paper with his teeth.

His eyes never left me.

“Take out your earbuds,” he ordered me as he chewed.

I narrowed my gaze.

“And stop acting like you’re listening to music and that’s why you can’t be bothered to deal with the people around you,” he bit out.

Every muscle in my body tensed, and when I didn’t listen, he tossed his wrapper onto the floor and leaned over, yanking the cord and pulling the earbuds out of my ears.

I startled, sitting up straight.

But I didn’t shrink. Not with him.

Now…he had my fucking attention.

Grabbing the cord from where it hung down to the floor, I rose from my desk, picked up my notebook and bag, and started to leave.

But then his hands were on me, pulling me down into his lap.

Everything in my arms tumbled to the floor, and liquid fire coursed under my skin.

No.

I gritted my teeth and shoved at him as Kai sighed and Damon snickered, neither one stopping him, though.

I struggled against him, but he simply tightened his hold, turning his face away from my attack.

Will, Kai, Damon, and Michael. The Four Horsemen.

I just loved these nicknames little wannabe gangsters gave themselves in high school, but someone should really tell them it wasn’t scary when you had to tell everyone how scary you were.

Every school had these guys, too. A little money, some connected moms and dads, and pretty faces without hearts to match. None of that was really their fault, I guessed.

What was their fault was that they took full advantage of it. Wouldn’t it be fun if anyone ever said no to them? If one of them ever paid for a mistake? Or ever said no to a drink, a drug, or a girl?

But no. Same story. Shallow, boring, tedious, ignorant, and insipid.

And while others may give in or pathetically protest before finally giving in, I wasn’t interested.

And he hated that.

I could scream. Get the teacher’s attention. Make a scene. But he’d only get the laughs he craved, and I’d get the attention I didn’t.

“Wipe that fucking glare off your face,” he warned.

I locked my jaw, not doing a damn thing he said.

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I know I may seem like the nicest one, and you probably think I regret the shit I give you sometimes, and someday I’ll wake up and reevaluate my life and its purpose, but I won’t. I sleep like a baby at night.”

“You wake every two hours and cry?” I asked.

There was a snort behind me, but I didn’t look away as Will’s eyes sharpened on me. School was always the one place I had a reprieve.

Until I got to high school.

I rolled my wrists inside his fists, trying to pry him off. “Let me go.”

“Why are your cuffs wet?”

His gaze fell and he forced my arm up, so he could look closer.

I didn’t answer.

He looked back up at me. “And your eyes are red.”

My throat tightened, but I gritted my teeth together and yanked my wrists free.

But before I could escape from his lap, he grabbed my chin in one hand and wrapped his other arm around my waist, pulling me in. Against his body, and whispering so softly no one could hear him but me.

“Don’t you know that you can have anything you want?” His eyes searched mine. “I’ll hurt anyone for you.”

The weight on my chest was too heavy, it almost hurt to breathe.

“Who is it?” he asked. “Who do I have to hurt?”

My eyes burned. Why did he do this? He’d soften and tempt me with the fantasy that I wasn’t alone and maybe-possibly-there was hope.

His scent hit me. Bergamot and blue cypress, and I looked up at his brown hair, perfectly styled and rich against his perfect skin and dark brows. Black lashes framed eyes that looked like the leaves surrounding a lagoon on some stupid island somewhere, and for a moment, I was lost.

Just for a moment.

“God, please,” I finally said. “Get yourself a life, Will Grayson. You’re pathetic.”

And his beautiful eyes instantly hardened as he lifted his chin. He pushed me off his lap and shoved me back toward my desk. “Sit down.”

He almost sounded hurt, and I nearly laughed. Probably disappointed I’m not stupid enough to fall for his shit. What was he planning? Gain my trust, lure me to Homecoming, and watch as they dumped pig’s blood all over me?

Nah, not original enough. Will Grayson had more imagination. I’d give him that, at least.

“All right, let’s go ahead and get started,” Mr. Townsend said, clearing his throat

I grabbed my bag and notebook off the floor and slid back into my chair, tucking my earbuds into my pocket.

“Take out your books,” he instructed as he took a quick sip of his coffee and flipped a paper on his desk.

Will just sat there, staring silently ahead, and I faltered for a moment as I watched the muscle flex in his jaw.

Whatever. I rolled my eyes and dug out my copy of Lolita as the rest of the class found theirs. Except Will, because he hadn’t bothered to bring a bag or books today.

“We’ve talked about Humbert being an unreliable narrator in the book.” Townsend took another drink of coffee. “How we are all the righteous heroes of our own story if we’re the ones telling it.”

I heard Will draw in and release a breath. I focused on the back of Kai Mori’s neck, usually fascinated by how precise and clean the lines of his trim were.

I was having trouble concentrating today.

Townsend continued, “And how often a matter of right or wrong is simply just a matter of perspective. To a fox, the hound is the villain. To a hound, the wolf. To a wolf, a human, and so on.”

Oh, please. Humbert Humbert was derailed.

And a criminal. Fox, hound, wolf, whatever.

“He believes he’s in love with Lo.” The teacher circled his desk and leaned against the front, his paperback curled in his fist. “But he’s not completely ignorant of his crime, either. He says,” -he flipped open his book, reading from it-“‘I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita.’” He looked up at the class. “What did he mean?”

“That she’d grow up,” Kai answered. “And no longer be sexually attractive to him because he’s a pedophile.”

I smirked to myself. Kai was kind of my favorite Horseman, if I had to pick one.

Townsend considered Kai’s thoughts, but then prompted another student.

“Do you agree?”

The girl shrugged. “I think he meant that we change, and she would, too. It’s not that she’s growing up. It’s that she’ll outgrow him, and he’s scared.”

Which was probably what Humbert actually meant, but I liked Kai’s assessment better.

The teacher nodded and then jerked his chin at another student. “Michael?”

Michael Crist looked up, sounding lost. “What?”

Damon snorted at his friend, and I shook my head.

Townsend hooded his eyes, looking impatient, before restating his question. “What do you think he meant when he said she wouldn’t be forever Lolita?”

Michael remained silent for a moment. I almost wondered if he would answer.

“He loves the idea of her,” he finally told Townsend, sounding finite. “When she eventually faded from him, the dream of her would still be there, haunting him. That’s what he meant.”

Huh. Not an entirely poor assessment. And I thought Kai would be the only one of them who’d actually read the book.

Townsend shifted, flipping to another page and read, “She says, ‘He broke my heart. You merely broke my life.’ What is she telling him?”

Everyone kept silent.

The teacher scanned the room, looking for a flicker from any of us. “You merely broke my life,” he repeated.

Needles pricked my throat, and I dropped my eyes. You broke my life.

A student sighed from a seat near the door. “She willingly indulged him,” he argued. “Yeah, it was wrong, but this is an issue today. Women can’t just decide after the fact that they were abused. She was willingly sexual with him.”

“Minors can’t consent,” Kai pointed out.

“What, so you magically become emotionally and mentally mature when you turn eighteen?” Will replied, suddenly entering the conversation. “Just happens overnight, does it?”

“She was a child, Will.” Kai turned in his seat, debating his friend. “In Humbert’s head, he demands sympathy from us, and most readers give it, because he tells them to. Because we’re willing to forgive anyone anything if they’re attractive to us.”

I stared at my desk, not blinking.

“He doesn’t have a thing for Lo,” Kai continued. “He has a thing for young girls. It’s not an isolated incident. She was abused.”

“And she left him to go shack up with a child pornographer, Kai,” Will spat out. “If she were being abused, why didn’t she have the sense to not put herself back in that situation?”

I rubbed my thumb over the paperback cover, hearing it skid across the gloss. My chin trembled, my eyes stinging a little.

“I mean, why would she do that?” Will asked.

“That’s what I’m saying,” another student chimed in.

Words hung on the tip of my tongue, telling them that they were oversimplifying. That it was easier to judge a girl you knew nothing about than to allow someone the dignity of their process. That it was more convenient to not consider that there were things we didn’t know and things we’d never understand, because we were shallow and entitled and ignorant.

That you stayed, because…

Because…

“Abuse can feel like love.”

I blinked, the voice so close that my ears tingled. Slowly, I raised my eyes to look at the side of Damon Torrance’s face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie draped around his neck.

The whole class fell silent, and I glanced at Will next to me, seeing his eyebrows pinched together as he looked at the back of his friend’s head.

Mr. Townsend approached. “Abuse can feel like love…” he repeated. “Why?”

Damon remained so still it didn’t look like he was breathing.

He looked at the teacher, unwavering. “Starving people will eat anything.”

I stilled as his words hung in the air, and for a second, I felt warm. He wasn’t completely devoid of brain cells maybe.

Feeling eyes on me, I turned my head, seeing Will’s gaze focused on my leg.

I looked down, finding my fingers curled around the hem of my skirt, the scratches and part of a bruise visible on my thigh. My pulse quickened, and I yanked my skirt back down to my knee.

“Flip to the last chapter, please,” Townsend called. “And take out the packet.”

But the bruise pounded with pain, and I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Don’t you know you can have anything you want? I’d hurt anyone you asked me to.

My chin trembled. I had to get out of here.

Abuse can feel like love…

I shook my head, stuffing my materials back into my bag, standing up, and hooking it over my head as I charged down the aisle and toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

I turned my head toward the teacher. “To finish the book and the constructed responses in the library.”

I kept walking, blinking away the tears hanging in my eyes.

“Emory Scott,” the teacher called.

“Or you can explain to my brother why my SAT scores will be shit,” I said, walking backward with my glare on him, “because they’re dominating ninety-eight percent of every conversation in this class.” I gestured to the Horsemen. “Text me any additional assignments, if we have them.”

I pushed the door open, hearing whispers go off in class.

“Emory Scott,” the teacher barked.

I looked over my shoulder at Townsend, seeing him hold out a pink slip.

“You know what to do,” he scolded.

Strolling back in, I snatched the referral from his fingers. “At least I’ll get some work done,” I retorted.

Dean’s office or library, it made no difference.

Walking out of the room, I couldn’t help but glance back at Will Grayson, seeing him slouched in his seat, chin on his hand, and covering a smile with his fingers.

He held my eyes until I left the room.

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