The Reapers.
1190 Words
It was break period, and I was feeling kind of anxious and wanted a quiet place to relax and read my novel away from the classroom without any disturbance, so I opted to go to the abandoned music room instead of wandering about the school.
Harles was with some guy making out in her locker, and I couldn't be bothered.
I took quick strides, reaching for the door knob and slowly peeping inside to check if the coast was clear, but what I saw startled me.
There in the empty room, Dennis was over Chelsea, banging her close to the wall, his forehead glistening with perspiration as he thrust relentlessly into her. He held her neck in a chokehold while he used the other to steady her as he beat into her, while she held a hand in her mouth to stiffen her moans.
My eyes widened in shock, and I felt a pang in my heart. I thought I had gotten over this jerk already, but I was amazed by the tangle of emotions roiling inside me. In that moment, my heart shattered, the pain searing through me like a knife.
Suddenly she jerked her head up as her moans echoed throughout the room, and then she met my gaze and her lips curled in a sarcastic smile. Taken aback, I took a step backwards before shutting the door lightly and sprinting away from the room.
I tried to swallow the lump forming in my throat, silently begging my tears to remain unseen. It's been a week since the rejection stuff, and I knew Chelsea and Dennis were close, but I never knew they were banging. How pathetic Dennis was.
I reached my locker, slowly banging my hand against its wall. I was pissed at myself for getting riled up after seeing those two idiots banging. Why should I care? I thought I had gotten over him and was glad he had finally left me alone in peace.
I so wish Nick had been here; he was away visiting his uncle in New York. He would have kept me company, and I wouldn't have to see that sh#t. Angrily, I swept a hand over my eyes, willing myself not to shed any more silly tears.
The sound of the bell suddenly echoed throughout the hall, signifying the end of the lunch break. I wasn't ready to return to class to see his face. Not yet, but I didn't have a choice; I had to be in class.
Sluggishly, I reached for my locker, anger coursing through my veins in the bustling hallway.
As the metal door slowly swung open, a burst of energy erupted into the air. But before I could react, a small ball rocketed towards my face, aiming to strike me with a jolt of surprise. Time seemed to slow down as adrenaline surged through me and my reflexes kicked in.
In an instant, a firm yet protective grip pulled me away, saving me from the ball's impact. My whole body trembled with a mix of fear and shock, my heart pounding at an erratic rhythm within my chest.
The scent of Dennis, a fusion of musk and expensive oud, filled my senses, intensifying the moment even further.
As I caught my breath, his grip on me remained firm, his concern evident in his searching eyes as they scanned my face. "Are you okay?" His voice was laced with worry and genuine care.
But anger ignited within me, fueled by the image I had just witnessed—the sight of Dennis passionately banging Chelsea, her smearing lipstick and betrayal across his lips. I abruptly pulled away from his grasp, a mix of hurt and frustration surging through me.
Dennis sucked in a deep breath, realizing the gravity of the situation. His eyes met mine, guilt swirling in their depths, as we both glanced down at the tiny ball resting on the floor.
Its surface bore the inscription "R," a mysterious symbol that only deepened my confusion.
"It's them, 'The Reapers'." My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of Dale, a fellow classmate with unkempt, dirty blonde hair and a shabby appearance.
"They're coming for you," he declared as he met my gaze, his voice laced with a mix of urgency and concern. His brown eyes darted around nervously, adding to the intensity of the situation. And then he shifted his gaze to Dennis, "And you too. They're coming for your people."
At that moment, Harles arrived, and her eyes darted from Dale to me and then Dennis, confused about the whole situation.
"Who are you?" My voice trailed as, almost immediately, he turned around and walked out of our sight, sending ripples of confusion and fear coursing through me.
What the hell is going on? Who the hell are these people, or "Reapers," as they called themselves?
And how did Dale know about them?
My mind raced, piecing together fragments of the puzzle. The note I had found earlier, a few days ago, in my locker, the mysterious "R" etched into the ball's surface—what did it all mean?
I met Dennis's gaze, and he held the same sentiment as me as we stood in sizzling silence for a moment or so, deliberating about this whole thing.
I noticed Harley had already left. Confused and perplexed, I swept up my bag and started to leave for class, but Dennis hurried after me and caught my arm, forcing me to face him.
I yanked away from him. "Don't touch me!" I yelled; my voice teemed with emotions so turbulent that I could barely stand him.
"What's the matter with you?" He shot back at me, his eyes smoldering fiercely, saying, "Is that the thank you I get for saving your sorry little a*s?"
"Did I ask you to save me?" I returned his glare with as much spunk. "Just leave me alone!"
"Well, it's not as if I care about you or anything, so..."
"So," I interjected, jamming a hand behind my hip as I met his piercing blue and annoyingly mesmerizing gaze. "Why are you here?"
"It's Andy," he said, his eyes darting towards the floor before shifting them back to me. "He's worried sick about you."
"And who's Andy?"
"My wolf."
"Your wolf? Your wolf!" I snarled at him, for obviously he must have thought I was a fool to come up with such a shitty excuse.
"I mean it!" he half yelled, growing impatient, his eyes narrowing with suppressed anger at my lack of belief. "He just wouldn't shut up about you."
My green eyes locked with his, as if I was trying to decide whether to believe him or not.
For a moment, I saw a gleam of care and tenderness, or even guilt, in his eyes.
But then I remembered his face glistening and his low groaning as he was banging Chelsea a few minutes ago, and fury threatened to smother me.
"Bull sh*t!" I spat angrily, "You can tell that cr#p to Chelsea! Her scent is all over you." I turned my back, leaving his lying a*s standing there.
- Writer
