Page 4 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

TESSA

A loud knock startles me, and I slam my laptop shut.

The door creaks open, and Mr. Wille pokes his head through with a wide grin on his face.

I’ve always thought he looked like a startled bird, with his beak-like nose, thin lips, wild brown hair, and large eyes.

It was during fourth grade I first noticed how his keen eyes would linger on me, filled with the same hateful lust a child who has experienced the unwanted attention of men recognizes.

Hands would squeeze my shoulders when I left for the day, fingers would brush over my hair when passing out tests, and coincidentally, I’d often find his crotch at eye level whenever he paused by my desk.

Our town’s Catholic education is provided by two sister schools, Annunciation and St. Mary’s High.

The two buildings sit kitty corner from each other and share a cathedral.

Despite the ever-rising tuition costs, the Church struggles to afford both teachers and coaches, forcing them to double up on their roles or switch between schools when required.

So when Mr. Wille followed me to St. Mary’s, I’d initially thought nothing of it.

But over the last year, I’ve begun to wonder if his transfer wasn’t by design.

He’s been my religion teacher and guidance counselor every single year, and his penchant for giving me detention for the slightest mistake is suspect, to say the least. The way he tracks my every move makes me feel dirty, like I’m little more than something to be used.

Uncle David used to look at me the same way before I grew too old for him. Thank God for boobs and body hair.

Mr. Wille enters and takes a seat in the visitor chair beside my bed. He thrusts a bouquet of flowers at me, which I reluctantly take, making sure to avoid touching his hand.

“Thank you,” I mutter, setting the flowers on my outstretched legs.

All of my awareness settles on the man sitting beside me, my muscles tensing with the need to flee.

I’m fully cognizant of the fact I’m trapped in this bed, and tighten my grip around the small wand containing the nurse call button.

His suspicious gaze narrows on my hand before his face transforms into a smile. The erratic way he shifts moods sets my teeth on edge, and when he settles his hand just above my knee, every cell in my body urges me to scream.

Mirror Girl shifts within me, alerted by the cortisol flooding my system. She’s never been a fan of Mr. Wille, but we’re powerless to do anything about him. I just need to get through the next four weeks. After graduation, I’ll never have to see him again.

“I’ve been praying for your safe recovery,” Mr. Wille rasps, his hand tightening on my leg. I resist the urge to shudder or yell at him to not touch me. “Those boys should be punished for putting their hands on you. Unfortunately, the principal disagreed with me.”

Of course, Mr. Langston would. They’re his star basketball players. It might be the end of senior year and no longer matter, but he wouldn’t do anything to harm their college futures. They’re such good boys, after all. Can’t punish them for one mistake.

“Umm, thanks.” Prayers mean nothing when you don’t believe in God. My faith dried up when I was a child, after years of begging an uncaring deity to make my mom love me or my uncle to stop touching me.

Mr. Wille nods, his smile growing wider.

His hand moves down my leg in a caress that makes my skin crawl.

Leave. Just leave. Please. Someone up there must be listening, because Father Paul steps into the room seconds later.

Mr. Wille snatches his hand off me with a low growl that Father Paul ignores.

Like Mr. Wille, I’ve known Father Paul most of my life.

He’s a Black man in his thirties, with short-cropped hair and beard and kind eyes.

He joined the diocese when I was in the first grade, and he’s been a priest at our church since.

He’s the one who officiated my First Communion, Confirmation, and Reconciliation.

I’m never fully comfortable with authority figures, but if I had to pick between Father Paul and Mr. Wille, Father Paul would win, hands down. My edginess lessens, even though being alone in a room with two men makes me want to flee.

Mr. Wille sits back in his chair, his lower lip sticking out like an annoyed toddler’s. “I was just telling Tessa how happy I am that she’s doing okay,” he mutters, not disguising his annoyance at the interruption.

Father Paul raises a brow. “Indeed. Miss Harrison, I’m pleased to see you’re on the mend. On behalf of the diocese, please accept our apology. The boys’ reprehensible actions do not align with the Church’s teachings.”

I swallow down a scoff. All they care about is sports and money. Their outdated misogynistic views allow these things to happen. Just look at Mr. Langston’s actions. They should be in jail, not wandering the streets.

Father Paul peers down at me expectantly, waiting for a response. What am I supposed to reply with? I dip my chin, and the corner of his mouth lifts in the barest smile.

Mr. Wille huffs before pushing himself to his feet. “After much discussion between Mr. Langston, myself, and your parents, we’ve come to the agreement that you will not return to school,” Mr. Wille says.

“What? Why?” I ask. School sucks, but it’s a thousand times better than being at home.

“Like Father Paul stated, what those boys did was inexcusable. But the level of violence you displayed was concerning. Both your parents and theirs agreed to not press charges, and Oliver, Jacob, and Nash have returned to school. We feel it’s best for everyone that you finish your recovery at home. For your safety, of course.”

Of course. “What about graduation?”

“You’re welcome to attend if you so choose.” He scoops up the bouquet and places it on top of a tray. “Get well soon, Tessa.”

Father Paul places a hand on the top of my head and murmurs a quick prayer. Mr. Wille’s hands clench at his sides, but he relaxes them when he notices me looking. They leave a moment later, closing the door behind them.

I suck in a deep breath, hold it, and release it, allowing my muscles to relax. What are the chances I can hide out here for the next month? Maybe I can find a way to escape once I’ve recovered. It would be easier to do so from here than at home.

I scoop up the laptop and log back in, and my heart breaks when there’s no reply from my friends.