Slow Burn (61 page)

I suddenly scramble to my feet.  I have to watch it.  I need to know what’
s on there to prepare myself—yeah, like there’s any way to prepare for this.  I can feel the flash drive burning a hole in my pocket as I rush to my car.  I want to find a smoldering volcano to toss it into—yet I have a filthy desire to see the video.  As if watching it will ease my fears!

I’m home in no time, and then I’m running up the stairs to my room, fiercely glad that Leila wanted my shift ton
ight.  I fire up my computer with shaking hands.  I’ve been breathing through my mouth this whole time, and my throat is getting dry.  I also realize that I’m mumbling out loud, but I have no idea what I’m saying.  I stick the flash drive into a USB port, and double click the option to open the folder.  Two files pop up, one has yesterday’s date for the label—and the other one says Dean and Juliet.  Taking a deep breath, I click on the latter.

It’
s horrible.  You can see
everything
—in what looks like high def.  I look like a shameless whore.  Dean mostly has his back to the camera, but me…oh, my god, every part of me is on full display.  And there’s sound—I didn’t expect that for some reason, but…it just makes it so much worse!  You can’t really make out what we’re saying in the video, but you can sure hear me when I’m happy—and I’m happy a lot.

W
atching it makes me want to die, but I can’t seem to look away.  I feel so violated, so ashamed.  This video changes that wonderful night from something that made me feel beautiful and so special into lewd and dirty porn, and—holy shit, is that how I look when I’m turned on?!  Gross!

I can’t watch anymore.  I fast forward to see how long Finley was recording us.  He must’ve been
there the whole night.  Whenever Dean or I headed to the bathroom, Finley would just slip out the other way, and wait for us to be done.  At least he didn’t film us while we were in there, I think bitterly.

I close the file, and then I just sit there, thinking about my options.  It’s only a matter of time before the video gets out, and my life is ruined. 
I wonder if I can be home schooled for the few remaining months?  I could move in with my Uncle Paul and Aunt Collette in Syracuse.  They have three boys, already grown, and Aunt Collette always wants me to visit.  I’m sure they won’t mind if I stay, um, until college starts.  Where don’t they have internet access?  I’ll have to look it up on the internet.  I have a lot of research to do.  Heather will help me.  If I plan this right, I can be on a plane to Syracuse in a couple of days. 

My brain is working feverishly
—on survival mode, trying to block out the nightmare of the sex video by focusing on my escape route.  Yes, I am totally serious about this.  I steel my spine, and click on the internet icon—and then my head drops down onto my desk, and I start crying.

Dean.  I simultaneously want to run to his arms for comfort—and run as far away from him as possible.  I can’t tell which urge is strongest right now.  None of this is his fault, he’s
a victim as much as I am.  He went above and beyond to protect me, and I’m ready to bail on him.

He must’ve known I’d want
to take the coward’s way out.  That’s why he looked at me like that at the park.  Like I was holding his world under my foot, ready to stomp it into the ground.

Despair pours into me at the thought of leaving him.  But I can’t stay here, not after Kara releases that video
—and there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that she will.

That psycho bitch.  My vision clouds with a sudden murderous rage.  I honestly want to kill her.  If she and Finley were here with me, and I thought I could get away with it, I would c
hoke the lives out of them—then bury their bodies in my backyard while whistling a cheery Disney tune.  Maybe I won’t kill them.  I’ve never scalped anyone before, but I’m willing to learn.  I bet there’s a how-to video online.

I entertain myself with sick fantasies of torturing
Kara and Finley until I’m lightheaded with bloodlust.  My phone is blowing up like crazy, but I ignore it.  I have to calm down, think rationally.  If I’m going to have my revenge before I leave, I have to figure out a way that I won’t get caught.

While I’m contemplating, I stare at the computer screen, at the file labeled as yesterday’s date.  Kara’s confession.  After a brief hesitation, I open it.

Her face appears on the screen, and all my muscles tense with pure hatred at the sight of her.  I turn the volume up, and maximize the window before clicking on the play button.

It’s like watching an exorcism.  The v
ideo is focused solely on Kara, with Dean’s deep steely voice decimating her with accusations.  The more he questions her, the uglier she gets—until she’s like a feral cornered cat, hissing and spitting.

“So I set a few smoke bombs—big fucking deal,” she snarls, tossing her b
lood-red hair.  “Was the bitch hurt?  No.  In fact, I did her a favor—little Mary Sue loved all the attention she got.”

Bitch said
what?!

“—would ever believe that I would do something like that?”

Kara’s scowl melts into a seductive smirk which she appears to be aiming in Dean’s direction.  “I have no motive, and you have no proof.  I’ll deny everything, and so will Dalton and Calvin.  Dalton will take the fall for me if I tell him to—he’d do anything for me.  And Calvin—he’ll pay anything to make it all go away for me.  I could light Liddell’s hair on fire, and get away with it.  I’m untouchable.  Unless
you
want to touch me.”

She walks forward, swaying her hips
while toying with the top button of her shirt.  I detect a faint gagging sound, distinctly feminine.  Arianna.  I’m definitely going to give that girl a gift basket, or something.

“Paley will talk,” Dean says from off-camera.  He sounds disgusted.  “He’s not doing jail time for you.”

“Yeah, I heard you beat the shit out of him.  And Finley—all for Juliet’s honor.  You’re a real hero, Dean.  But like I said, there’s no proof I was involved in anything.  I was very careful to not get caught on camera, and I made sure I didn’t get my hands
too
dirty.  In fact, I made myself a little insurance.  I’ve got video of Dalton starting the fire in Calvin’s office.  Dumbass was with me, and he didn’t realize I was filming him.  If he even thinks about opening his mouth, I’ll send that little clip in anonymously.”

Kara shows all her pointy white teeth in a shit-eating grin.  “You won’t believe the shit I’ve gotten away with.  Leclare is my playground—I can do whatever I want to whoever I want, and you know what?  I’ll never get caught.”
 

“Yeah, you’re a real badass
.”  Dean mocks her.  “You set a few trashcan fires—that’s nothing more than a little girl’s cry for attention.”

Her eyes narrow dangerous
ly.  “I was just having some fun.  You don’t know what I’m capable of when I’m serious.  Remember Devlin Banks?  Of course you do—she was the biggest whore in school.  She wasn’t here for very long, though, was she?  She made a serious mistake when she tried to cross me.”

There’s a significant pause.  Then:  “You
burned her house down.”

Holy shit!

“Yeah, too bad she wasn’t in it at the time.”  Kara’s face morphs into something ugly and twisted again.  “She was the one who spread that rumor about Calvin and my mom and me.  I told her I would get her back.”

There is a sudden gasping sound, and Kara’s head swings toward the noise.  Her eyes turn into slits, and she lunges forward.

“You
bitch
!” she screeches.

The video stops after Arianna is discovered. 
I continue to sit there with my mouth hanging open, in complete shock.  Whoa.  I can’t believe what I just saw.  Kara is…she really is crazy.  She freaking burned down someone’s house who gossiped about her—I’m lucky she didn’t kill me!  Ho-lee shit.  This is…I don’t even know.  What the hell am I suppose to do with this?  It’s beyond insane.

Okay, well t
he way I see it, there are two options:  cut and run, or stay and fight.

I lean back against the chair, taking a deep breath.  There’s no
debating this time.  I know what I have to do.

I just hope Dean will understand.

******

Chapter 52

I am surprised to discover that, while Kara lives in a very nice neighborhood, her house is not nearly as fancy as some of the other places I’ve been in.  The psycho lives in a lovely two story Colonial, with a white picket fence, and a giant elm tree in the front.  It’s so…picturesque and normal-looking.  I thought her house would be something super modern and ostentatious—all glass, and—I don’t know—pentagrams.  But this…it’s way too suburban for someone like Kara Deschamps.  It’s bizarre.

I also don’t expect her to answer the door, but there she is, looking like a supermodel in skinny black pants and
a red blouse.  Her beautiful red hair is pulled back into a ponytail so severe that the skin of her forehead stretches unnaturally tight.  She looks both startled and evil.

She leans against the door frame, sneering as she looks me up and down.  I’m still in my uniform, without the blazer, and my blouse is a wrinkled mess.  I don’t want to even think about what my hair is doing.

“What, did you get lost on your way out of town?”  Kara laughs at me, probably mistaking my euphoric rage for something else less murderous.

I have to take several deep breaths.  Now that I’m here, I have to fight the instinct to take her down, and just start punching her, over and over, and over…

I put my shaking fists behind my back, just in case.  After another cleansing breath, I look up at her, meeting her eyes squarely.

“I had this whole speech planned to tell you what a horrible person you are, and
how you’ve ruined my life,” I begin, my voice only trembling a little.  “But then you probably already know both those things—and you don’t care.  So I’m not going to waste my breath.  Instead, I’d just like to say that orange is going to be a terrible color on you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I have your little video confession.”  I allow myself a small smile.  “And tonight, I’ll be handing it over to the police.”

For a brief glorious second, her superior little smirk disappears, and her face pales. 
I watch her hand clutch the doorknob so tightly that her fingers turn white.  God, I love her glittery nails.  Maybe the other inmates will, too.

Kara quickly composes herself.  She flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, and smiles tightly down at me.  “You’re forgetting that I have a video, too. 
So, let’s do an exchange…unless you don’t want the entire school knowing just how wide you can spread your legs for our star quarterback.”

I have to swallow the bile that immediately rises up my throat.  “Go ahead,” I say with false nonchalance.  “I look awesome naked.  I’l
l probably get offers to be on a reality show afterwards.  You, on the other hand, will be charged with a felony for distribution of child pornography.  You turned eighteen in September, right?  Guess that means you’ll be tried as an adult.”

Any normal bitch would be quaking in her designer shoes right about now, but Kara is a special kind.  She is silent for a moment, studying me.  Then that smug look is back.  “Girls like me don’t do jail time,” she says confidently.  “I know people
who have serious connections, and I know exactly how to spin this.  Go ahead and go to the police—by the time I’m done, I’ll look like a saint—and you, you little wannabe bitch, will look like a dirty moaning whore.”

She looks so sure of herself, so certain that everything is going to go her way. 
Man, she is beyond deluded.  “You confessed to burning someone’s house down,” I feel the need to remind her.  “You’re psychotic.”

Her glare is so malicious, I take a step back. 
“And you’re about to be an internet porn star.” 

I suck in a breath. 
“You’re still going to release the video even though you know I’m going to turn you in?”

Kara smiles.  She reaches out a hand, and slowly rakes her nails down my cheek—not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to sting.  “If I go down, you’re coming with me,” she promises.

“Well, then, I have just one thing to say.”

I gesture for her to lean in.  She looks at me like I’m a cockroach crawling up her leg, but moves forward, anyway.
  I punch her right in the face, putting everything I have into the swing—and she goes down with a splat.  Astonished, she can only stare up at me from her sprawled position, blood pouring from her nose.

That’s all I had to say.  I walk away, gingerly flexing my knuckles.  Do
n’t care if they’re broken—it’s totally worth it.  And, yeah, I know violence is never supposed to be the answer.  But, god, is it satisfying.

The confrontation with Kara leaves me shaking so bad that I have to pull into the parking lot of a nearby coffee shop to collect myself.  I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, and try to control my breathing.  The more I try to calm down, the more panicked I become—until I can’t breathe.