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Authors: Tijan

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Tijan

Jaded

425

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

I knelt, watched, and felt the gun by my hands. I stared at it, surprised. I heard Marcus’ words in my mind.

“…
that was supposed to happen”

I was the girl that no one messed with. I remembered Officer Sheila’s words.

“…I’m thinking the more you scare, the more mad you are, and the more ruthless
you’ll get....he’s not going to expect that.”

 

Well, she was right. I was livid, a gun lay at my hand, and my best friend’s blood coated my floor.

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My hand grabbed the gun and I stood. I would not and will not stand by when I can enact my own revenge, should it be justified or not.

Corrigan moaned at my backside and I whirled to the corner. My stomach

emptied its contents and Corrigan was again unconscious.

My fingers twitched from my rage and my jaw firmed.

The hallways stretched long and wide. The paintings seemed to shrink as my

shadow crossed over them. And in the meantime, I listened. I heard one set of footsteps, but I doubted the heavy sprint belonged to a student who’d made the pros because of his footwork.

Bryce was graceful and exquisite to watch, but this hunt belonged to me.

I followed the footsteps and found myself turning down the stairs.

All the lights were suddenly cut and the house plunged into darkness.

That wasn’t Marcus’ handiwork.

I now knew where Bryce had disappeared to and I instantly realized the

significance.

This was my territory. This wasn’t Marcus’ backyard and he was a blind rabbit running for its hole.

As I cleared the last step, the heavy sprint suddenly choked itself off.

And I grinned, a mask of malicious humor against the dark backdrop of the night.

I wasn’t scared. I had been—I hated to admit it, but I wasn’t scared anymore.

My best friend was nearing his death’s doorstep.

I had almost turned away from the man who loved me.

And I had felt, briefly, but blaringly, the cold winds of isolation and loneliness.

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I circled around the back hallway and bypassed my hidden spot. The bench now seemed cold and useless, but it had been my life’s shelter at that time when my home had been violated for the first time.

I heard the garage door turn and I heard the garage door stay shut.

It was still locked.

I almost felt the house’s grin of eager approval.

I plunged through the dark and walked through the back sitting area where I had laid my head to rest, where I had woken to the sounds of a burglary.

I had one more door and one more hallway, but I heard a silent curse.

And then I heard—“Corrigan?” Logan’s voice was quivering, fearful, and

hesitant. It was also far off and I knew she was in the foyer, just through the opened front door.

A black shape stood just before the locked garage door, but he had turned at Logan’s voice. Marcus froze in place and I almost felt the wheels spinning in his sadistic head. I could see him as I slunk down the hallway.

And he now started towards Logan’s voice.

I froze in place, right against the wall, and he moved past, a mere shirt sleeve away.

My lungs ceased breathing.

He passed without any realization and I now stood to follow him.

“Corrigan?!” Logan called out again, anxious. She started up the stairs, “Where are you?”

She’d find him and her scream would be heard in a moment.

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A heartbeat and then another—and the scream rang throughout the house.

Marcus stopped and waited.

I could hear his heart pounding and if he had looked behind him—he would’ve

stared into my white eyes.

He didn’t and he strained his ears, waiting for murmuring hushes to proceed.

He heard none of it and I knew he was confused.

I wasn’t up there and I was supposed to be. I was supposed to have rushed out to silence her or to warn her. I was supposed to have remained behind, but I hadn’t. He realized that now and he stopped—confused for his next plan. I saw his hands tighten around the knife. The edge still dripped blood and my hands tightened around my gun’s handle.

I raised my arm swiftly, ready to enact my vengeance, but something crashed

through a window in that moment. Marcus instantly turned in that direction and my arm swiftly returned to my side. I stepped past and he moved beside me, back into the darkness cover where he could wait and plan his next move.

I flattened against the wall once more and he moved past…again.

I knew my luck was about to run out, but I couldn’t stop.

He went back to the garage door and rattled the locked handle once more. Still nothing.

He didn’t dare move towards the front door. That was too obvious. So he tried for a window instead.

They were all locked. The alarm system ensured it and it only allowed the front door to be opened. It was pretty marvelous and I thanked Bryce for installing it properly.

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Marcus cursed, not for the second time, and I heard Logan’s weeping in the

background. We both heard her call 911 and I waited for Marcus to decide his next move.

He either chanced it and ran through the rabbit-hole or he stayed for the cops.

And then I heard the front door slam shut, lock, and a second beep sounded

throughout the house.

Bryce shut the door and we were all locked, ready and waiting for the next move to be had.

And then I heard his voice, high above, and omnipresent, “Hey, Marcus…”

Marcus froze, but said nothing.

Bryce laughed shortly and commented, “Do you want to know what it’s like to be hunted?”

Still nothing from Marcus.

Logan wept in the background. I could imagine that she cradled Corrigan in her arms as her knees became covered in his blood.

My eyes went a little more lethal in that moment, as I thought that sight.

It was symbolic, in a way. Corrigan bled because of me. Bryce hunted because of me.

In the end, I was the one who stood beside the murderer.

Bryce called out, “I can see you, Marcus.”

And I knew that he could see me too. The videos were still being used and I

looked up to where I remembered one was poised.

I smiled, almost soullessly.

Marcus shivered in front of me and gripped his knife tighter.

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It wouldn’t do any help.

I had the gun and I had the smarts to ensure I pulled the trigger and not him.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew that he could knock it out of my hands. He could probably overpower me and wrestle it free, but he didn’t have the clear head. His heart pounded wildly and he was barely holding onto any calmness.

His breathing was ragged while mine was anything but.

And I knew that Bryce saw it all.

“You’re being hunted right now, Marcus,” Bryce continued, cruelly. Cold. “I’m watching you and I know where you are.”

“Stop this!” Logan suddenly screamed. There was a thump and then her footsteps were heard on the stairs.

The sudden movement unhinged us both and as Marcus whirled to the stairs, so did I—but he saw me instead of the empty hallway.

I

froze.

He

froze.

And then he smiled while I leapt into action.

Marcus lunged for me, but I spun out of his grip. I dropped to the floor,

remembered a wrestling move from Bryce, and I kicked desperately up—trying for any weakness he might have.

My foot connected to his groin, but his hand connected to my jaw.

We both spun from the hit and saw stars from the pain.

I still held the gun while the knife was securely gripped in his own hold.

“You

bitch!”

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I blinked back the pain and rolled to my feet. I backed up and raised the gun.

Marcus saw it now and he stopped abruptly.

From the look in his eye, I don’t think he even cared.

He saw his point of obsession in front of him and he smiled, triumphantly. He wasn’t thinking clearly and that was a point on my side.

I lowered the gun, slightly, to my side and I remarked, seemingly casual, “So what is this? Between you and me? Is this because you got bullied all your life?”

We heard the sirens in the distance. They were coming…

“Wouldn’t you like it to be so cut and dried.” Marcus actually laughed.

“Is this because I’m popular and you’re not?”

“As if,” he mocked with a twisted grin.

“You better start talking, Marcus,” I said faintly and stepped back. “I’ve got the gun while you’ve got the knife.”

“And I’m a man,” he countered.

I smiled, a taunt, and moved another step back. I held the gun tight, but still kept it at my side, “Were you expecting me to quiver in my shoes? Maybe pee my pants? Is that what you wanted?” I heard Logan scream again and smiled, cruelly, “Maybe you wanted me to scream like her. Is that it?”

“God, yes,” he breathed out and I knew his libido sparked at that image.

I murmured, “I only scream for Bryce. You should know that—you’ve watched

enough.”

His smile was wiped clean.

Give me a reason,
I prayed.

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“I’ll tell you something,” I murmured. “You’re right. I’m not like other girls.”

He preened. He was insane.

“I don’t give a shit about proper etiquette, about being nice, or about people liking me.”

“That’s why you’re the one,” he murmured.

His insanity knew no boundaries.

. “Is

it?”

“You reign supreme over everyone. You hold power over everyone.”

Are you kidding me? “Do I?” I asked, dryly.

“You do.” And he smiled, brilliantly, at me.

“You’re wrong,” I replied, coolly. “I’m at the top because I settle for nothing less—and you—you settled for where you ended at. You’re a loser. A social deficit.

You’re the one who chose that place. You chose your life—not your godforsaken bullies.

They’re just doing their jobs. They’re being bullies because it’s what they were taught.

But you—you chose this. You. Chose. It!”

“She whimpered,” he whispered and smiled.

“So will you,” I returned swiftly.

The smile was wiped clean. “She was so tight when I went inside of her.”

I smiled, “I can shoot you up the ass if you’d like.”

He stopped—he just…stopped.

“You’ve got nothing that’ll unhinge me,” I tsk, tsked. “That’s a lesson learned the hard way, isn’t it? I don’t scare and when I do—you get this instead.”

Logan screamed in that moment.

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Marcus raised his knife and prepared to lunge..

There’s my reason…

And my finger pulled the trigger.

His body slammed to the ground.

Logan’s scream cut off.

And I stood there, silent, with the gun in hand.

He’d given me the reason that I prayed for.

Logan stood behind me, near the base of the stairs, and I turned to see her hand clasped to her silent mouth. Her eyes were wide and panicked. She looked like she was about to faint.

I wiped the gun and let it drop beside Marcus’ body.

“You just…,” she chortled. She didn’t make sense in her shocked state.

“That’s what I do,” I murmured and glanced back to his soulless eyes. “It’s why he picked me.”

“But…”

I sighed and grasped her arm lightly, “Come on. The paramedics are coming.”

They did, but they were accompanied by the police.

I left Logan standing in the hallway and went upstairs.

Bryce had lifted Corrigan to the couch where he was applying pressure to the stab wound. The blood covered his body now and I stopped in the doorway, grateful of what I’d done.

“Hey…,” Bryce greeted, hoarse and exhausted.

“You watched…” I gestured towards the monitors.

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“Yeah. I erased it all until the last second where he lunged. It’s self-defense.

They’ll take that and leave it,” he said grimly.

I moved to his side and sat down, wearily.

Bryce grinned, sadly, and brushed a thumb across my cheek to tuck back a loose tendril. I felt the trace of blood that was left instead of his loving touch, but I didn’t care.

I turned and gazed at Corrigan.

“He’s so pale,” I murmured.

“He’ll pull through. He woke up a little while ago.”

“He

did?”

“He’s fighting.” Bryce bent and kissed my forehead. “That’s what we do.”

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EPILOGUE

Miss Connors exclaimed brightly, “So!”

I cringed against the harsh sound and sunlight that filtered through her office windows. I curled into a ball on her chair and rolled my eyes in annoyed resignation.

“Sheldon!”

“What?” I cried out, annoyed. “I graduated yesterday. I’m hung over. Sue me.”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“You’re supposed to be my counselor. What happened to all the sympathy and

condolences?”

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“The ‘sympathy and condolences’ went out the window when you used a certain

expletive with me that pertains to intercourse.” Miss Connors smiled tightly. She twirled her finger in the air and exclaimed, “So you can ‘screw off’ when you ask for that.”

I grinned, “That wasn’t what I said.”

Miss Connors sighed, folded her arms, and asked, “So how’s it going with your parents?”

“What

parents?”

“You know—the dad that’s still out of the country? The mom that’s suddenly

trying to be a mother with all this media attention? Those parents.”

Oh. I shrugged. “They’re fine.”

“They’re a disappointment,” Stephanie said for me because I couldn’t. Two

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