Anathema (13 page)

“You’re not going to bother me, are you?” I ask him.

I’m not sure if Russell understands me, but he must, because a smile teases his lips. “Depends on your definition of ‘bother’.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I hadn’t intended an entendre. Or double entendre. Or whatever it’s called. Stupid French. I don’t even want to live in France.

Then Russell moves across the narrow space and settles next to me, so close his aftershave wafts into my nostrils, his body heat sears my skin. I need to put distance between us, but I can’t just stagger into the hallway like Amanda. Inebriated as I am, I may get put off school grounds. Then where would I be?

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I complain, pushing away from him.

He shakes his head and grabs my arm when I try to move away from him. “You’ll be seen. Those hunters out there would love it if you got caught and sent home early…” He draws the tip of his finger across my throat.

Hard bumps form on my skin. I need to get away from him. “I’ll take my chances.”

There’s always the service corridor. That’s the hallway in the basement of the school. The stairwell leading down to it is in this room. The school used to have a larger custodial staff that frequently moved through the hallways – unlike here – so we never really hung out down there. Even now that the custodial staff is a skeleton crew due to budget cuts, we’re in the habit of avoiding the place.

His steady eyes gaze up at me, a faint smirk on his lips from where he still leans against the wall. I feel a tickling on my leg and realize his idle touch is wandering its bare expanse. “I can go with you. Make sure you get there safely.”

“No. Don’t.” I step back out of reach. “But thanks.”

I add that last part automatically, then regret it. Strange how social conventions have such a power over me. I still feel a need to be polite even now.

I wish I’d kicked his hand away. I don’t owe him any courtesy whatsoever.

I don’t have to pee at all. I realize that as soon as I shut myself in the bathroom down in the basement. I sit on the toilet, neglecting my usual ritual of setting down four paper toilet seats. Germs feel like the least of my worries right now.

I clutch my swimming head in my hands, wishing Amanda would finish with her test. I’ll just sit here and wait. Right in here in the ladies room in the service corridor until Amanda comes back. Everything will be okay once it’s not me and her creepy boyfriend alone together.

It hits me suddenly how messed up this is. I’m actually hiding from someone who is technically in my group of friends. I’m so unnerved by him. But things have changed. I can’t deny that now. I have no rights, no status as a human being anymore, and it’s like Russell is finally showing his true face to me. He never spoke to Kathryn Grant the citizen the way he does to me; he never looked at her like that, or touched her like that. Strange how some people won’t show you their true nature until they feel you’re at a total disadvantage to them.

Then the door to the bathroom swings open.

“What’s taking so long?” Russell calls.

My head whips up, disbelief exploding through me. I yank up my underwear, smooth down my skirt, but don’t open the door of the stall. “You have to get out of here, Russ! This is a women’s bathroom!”

His oily laugh floats to me through the air. Just like that night in another bathroom. At Conrad’s party. His shoes move across the tiles beneath the door of the stall. “No one’s around to care.”

He’s right. A cold shiver goes through me. I didn’t see anyone in the service corridor. I stand very still in the middle of the stall. The flimsy walls feel like my only protection.

“Can you go out into the hallway, Russ? I can’t use the bathroom with you here.” I hate how small my voice sounds.

His shoes pause a moment, right by my stall. “Nervous? What, afraid I’ll do… This?”

Suddenly his head pops under the stall, and I shriek and spring away from him.

“What are you doing?” I scream at him.

He frowns. “You’re not even using it.”

“I will in a minute if you get out!” Anger augments my fear. My voice is strong, and Russell laughs and then retreats from under the stall.

“Why are you freaking out? I’m messing with you, Kat.”

“It’s not funny! Just get out!”

“I’ll wait by the door.” His slow footsteps move away. The door squeaks open, but not close. He hasn’t gone all the way into the hallway.

My body shakes. I want to go upstairs. I should never have come down here. I could have risked being caught in the halls. They might not have booted me outside. I wasn’t even that drunk.

Right now, I feel completely, stone cold sober.

Russell is listening and I couldn’t use the bathroom now even if I needed to. If I delay any longer I’m afraid he’ll come back again or try to get in here with me. The last thing I need right now is to be trapped in this bathroom in the basement with Russell. I need to get out of here. The need to escape is suddenly suffocating me.

Just like with the janitor, instinct is blaring at me to act casual. Betray no signs of panic. Show no fear or he’ll spring. I wash my hands. I towel them dry. (Thank God it is not a blow dryer. That would take too long.) I step past Russell, shuddering at the proximity. The bathroom door swings closed behind me. I start down the empty service corridor, heading towards the stairwell.

“So how do you think Amanda’s test is going? How do you think she’s doing? What teacher does she have?” My voice babbles mindlessly as I fixate on the door I’m crossing towards. I grab the handle—my haven in reach. “She was so wasted. I can’t imagine she...”

The door handle doesn’t give.

It’s locked.

Locked!

“Aw.” Russell’s voice is coated with barely repressed glee. “Guess it only opens from the other side.”

He knew. My heart trips over itself, thumping wildly in my chest. He already knew this. I’m sure of it. “There’s another exit.” There has to be. There are safety regulations, that sort of thing. I shoot off down the corridor, walking swiftly, aware of him close behind me.

“Where’s the fire?” his voice floats to me.

But I am walking faster and faster, and I force a laugh. “I bet Amanda fails and freaks out at us for getting her drunk. She’s not going to be happy. She’ll be so mad at us even though this drinking thing was her idea…” I am still babbling, but now I am walking so fast it is no longer walking. I’m running suddenly, outright running.

And Russell is still laughing, too, running behind me.

A turn in the corridor, and a wall swerves up before me.

No. No,
no!

“Dead end,” Russell almost sings.

His chest hits my back before I can turn. I try to jerk forward but his arms trap me like he’s steadying me. But he doesn’t let go, I try to shove them away but they aren’t moving. He’s holding tight.

“This is a storage area, huh?” I say, my voice shaking. My eyes groping desperately over the old music stands piled up around us, in the corner. Why is nobody else
here
?

His breath touches my ear. “Who cares?”

“It has to be. I guess everything has to go somewhere.” I feel this urgent need to keep talking. If I keep talking it will change what is happening here. It will change all of this. Right now, we can pretend Russell isn’t letting me go because he’s keeping me upright. It’s better than admitting he isn’t letting me because he’s restraining me.

Then he whispers, right in my ear, “Did you know I killed an anathema once?”

That’s when I know I can’t pretend everything’s fine anymore.

The silence presses in around us. The fluorescent lights overhead hum. Russell’s voice presses into my ear. “He was a grown man. Big guy. I was only thirteen. But I always wondered what it would be like.”

“I don’t…” I don’t want to hear this. I want him to let me go. But when I try to wheel us around, try to pull away, he pulls me tighter, my back to his chest.

“He didn’t see it coming.” Russell’s voice is husky. Breathless. Excited. “I followed him for three days. Just waiting. He had three kids. Guess he had to provide, so he was still living like a normal person. He should’ve known better.”

“God, Russell.”

“I waited until he had two bags of groceries. Then I just jammed a knife in his side.”

Russell’s grip tightens so hard I cry out. I hate myself for showing weakness.

“He was so surprised, Kat. Like, he never saw it coming from me. He thought I was just another punk kid.” He laughed delightedly. “But he figured it out quickly. He was scared of me by the end. He tried to get away. I followed him for two blocks before he collapsed. He was gushing blood all over the sidewalk.”

“Let me go right now!”

And then I feel his lips on the back of my neck. Tasting my skin. His hand slides up my stomach, under my shirt, then trails downward.

“No!” I rear forward, but his grip is like iron. I can’t break it. His large body folds me forward. I have to hold onto the wall to keep my balance.

“It was so easy, Kat,” he whispers hoarsely, grinding against me. His lips trail down my neck. “You wouldn’t believe how easy it was. I got the bounty a week later. I bought a new Xbox with it.”

“You’re sick. You’re seriously mentally ill, Russell.”

“Mom wanted to throw away my shirt. I got blood all over it. But I kept it.”

“Let me go or I’ll scream.”

He laughs like I’ve said something foolish and kisses my neck. “Do you think anyone’s going to come help an
anathema
? And even if they would, who will hear you down here?”

“HELP ME! SOMEONE HELP!”

I didn’t realize I could scream so loud; it feels like it’s tearing up my throat, throbbing my ears. He obviously didn’t expect it. His meaty hand clamps over my mouth.

I lose it. My teeth dig into his skin as hard as I can, and his shriek of pain meets my ears. His grip loosens. I launch forward, my hands flying out to grope the nearest thing I can find—a cold metal violin stand.

Just as he starts forward, I crash it into his head. Russell’s ferocious swearing splits the air as he tumbles to the ground, tearing down other violin stands with him.

I back away, shaking all over, and he thrashes upright. His thick arm swats the violin stands aside, sending more of them crashing to the ground

“That
hurt.
”

“Good.” Suddenly I remember something. “You’d better back off right now, Russell! We’re on school grounds. You can’t hunt me here! It’s illegal.”

He grins malevolently. “I’m not planning to
hunt
you.” He draws towards me as I stumble back. His eyes are dancing. “You’re just an anathema. Nothing I do to you is illegal. Only restriction is I can’t kill you here if I want your bounty—but I’m not planning to
kill
you.”

“Get back!” I scream as he lances toward me.

But this time, he catches the stand as I swing it at him. I jam my knee between his legs, and just miss hitting him where it hurts. And then suddenly he wrenches the stand from my grip, his other fist flying at my face. The impact makes my entire head vibrate, stars exploding before my vision. I sprawl on the ground, disoriented, and then a hand is clawing at my thigh, yanking me onto my stomach. His heavy weight crashes over me.

“No! No, Russell! Don’t!”

Sharp pain erupts on my scalp as he seizes my hair and wrenches my neck back. “Shut up. Shut up and—”

Then Russell’s hand releases my hair abruptly, tearing a few strands in its haste. I fall forward onto my stomach. His weight is no longer crushing me. I crawl away, hearing Russell give a pained shriek. I find my feet and whip around.

It’s Alexander.

He has Russell by the back of his shirt, and when Russell twists around to swing at him, Alexander dodges—and Russell screams as his fist hits the concrete wall. Alexander sinks his knee into Russell’s stomach, seizes him by his hair, and then slams his face into the wall so hard, something crunches.

When Russell drops back, he’s clutching his nose, blood trickling between his fingers. He’s left a smear of red on the wall. Alexander locks an arm around his neck.

“I’ve never brutalized someone twice in one week,” Alexander tells Russell conversationally, holding him in a headlock. “You’ll be the first.”

“I’ll kill you!” Russell screams, and tries to rear them both back.

Alexander lifts the broken end of a violin stand and smashes it into Russell’s head. This time Russell drops like a stone. Alexander lets him fall. He throws me a quick look over his shoulder.

I find my feet, my legs shaking beneath me.

He swings back around and plants his knee on the small of Russell’s back before he can rise, flattening him on the floor. Russell tries to buck him off, but Alexander keeps his balance. He wrenches up Russell’s arm, twists it up behind him. Even when Russell tries to rise, tries to pull away, he can’t. Alexander just twists the arm until Russell is shouting for him to stop.

“Not a great feeling, is it?” Alexander intones, leaning over him. “It really sucks being at someone else’s mercy. Now imagine how much worse it feels being raped.”

“That’s not what that was!” roars Russell. “She wanted it. She was begging for it.”

Rage explodes over me. “No, I
wasn’t!
” I shout at him.

“I’m an eye for an eye type of person,” Alexander tells him, digging his knee into Russell’s back when he tries to move. There’s a hard, reckless look to his face. “But I think you’d enjoy that too much. So what to do with you…? I can’t kill you on school grounds any more than you can kill me here.”

“No, you can’t!” Russell taunts.

“That’s why I think I’ll break your fingers one-by-one instead.”

I am breathless. Some part of me, some ethical, moral part of me tells me I should stop this.

Some vengeful part of me can’t seem to care.

Alexander’s blue eyes move up to me piercingly, as though he’s gauging whether I need to see this. He must see my fury on my face, because he turns back to Russell with grim determination. Then he wrenches his pinky.

Russell screams out as it cracks.

I clap a hand over my mouth. But I don’t look away.

“Stop!” Russell screams.

Then Alexander takes his ring finger.

“Stop! Don’t!”

A sickening crack.

Russell begins pleading. Begging. “That’s my good arm. Come on, man, that’s my good arm. I need it. Stop. Please, okay? Please, I won’t do anything else. I’ll leave this alone. I’ll forget this.”

“Your good arm?” Alexander says. Despite his taunting words, there’s no enjoyment on his face. He’s cold and methodical, his eyes like a winter’s frost. “I guess you’re hoping to be scouted. You’re a great wide receiver. If you went to the right university, you might have had a shot at the NFL one day. Pity.”

He wrenches his middle finger. Crack. Russell screams, then dissolves into hysterical threats. “I’ll raise your bounty! I have the money. You wait and see. I’ll raise your bounty so high, you won’t be able to believe it. You won’t sleep through a single night for the rest of your life.”

Alexander laughs darkly. “I never sleep through the night.”

“Please, please, man—I get it. I get it now. It was wrong. I was wrong.”

“A lesson learned a few minutes too late. Isn’t life full of painful ironies.” And then Alexander breaks his index finger.

Russell screams again, and his threats are mixed with pleas. “Please,” he gabbles, over and over, a chant. “Please, please, please not my thumb. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t…”

“The thumb takes the longest to heal,” Alexander says. “You’d be out the whole season. There goes your career.” He looks at me, a silent question in his eyes.

I realize suddenly he’s leaving it up to me. If the thumb takes the longest to heal, this one counts. Breaking it this early in football season of senior year doesn’t just knock Russell out of the season—it knocks him out of contention for any college scouts. It ends his football career. He can function after a few weeks of healing with the others. Not if Alexander breaks his thumb.

Alexander must know how rich Russell’s family is. Yet he’s still willing to do it even though the Corgins can add to his bounty.

Not only that, I realize suddenly, but he didn’t ask me
out loud
. Just with a questioning look. All I need to do is nod.

My throat tightens. He’s willing to take all the fallout for me.

That’s why I can’t let him do that.

Take the fallout, I mean.

I look down at Russell, still struggling on the ground. No laughter comes from him now that
he’s
the helpless one. Bile rises in my throat as I think of his whispered story. His heavy breaths on my skin.

“A father with three kids, Russ?” My voice shakes with disgust and loathing. “Really?”

“Kat, please…” he whines, panic creeping into his voice.

His terror touches nothing within me. I don’t recognize the pitiless void in my chest. I didn’t know I had this creature of ice inside me, because there is no mercy in my heart.

I tell Alexander, “Break it.”

Alexander looks at me sharply. He hadn’t expected me to say it aloud. To let Russell know I’m the one making the decision to do this to him. His eyes hold mine, respect glinting in their depths. Russell shrieks in rising panic.

And then Alexander breaks his thumb.