Fear consumes me.
Derek, Bridget’s boyfriend, stands in the doorway, arms folded in front of him. He’s not even trying to flex. Nonetheless, his big ass biceps bulge prominently from within his T-shirt’s sleeves.
They alone must be thicker than my head. The rest of him is just as stacked too. In fact, his entire uniform stretches tight to contain his massive size.
Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea? He can, and will, snap me like a twig.
I’m so fucking dead it’s not funny. At least there is the recording That’ll serve as proof I went out with a bang.
And hey, maybe justice will even get served. That’s if his parents’ money can’t buy his way out of a murder charge, of course. And with how wealthy they are, I wouldn’t put it past them.
Derek glances between his girl and me.
Every second stretches on for what feels like an eternity, each more tense than the last. Sweat beads on my forehead. My legs wobble unsteadily beneath me once more. This time, though, that’s for a very different reason than last. All that joy and pleasure has long since vanished. In its place is naught but pure, unbridled terror.
Can you blame me? The young mountain of a man, although calling him that feels like a gross oversimplification, makes for a mean sight.
It would be more apt to call Derek a monster. He’s the bane of nerds everywhere, after all. The King of Bullies. A guy so sinister, it wouldn’t shock me if he’s killed someone.
Are we sure he’s actually the one who comes from generational wealth? Honestly, it would make more sense for such a family to raise a girl like Bridget, and hers, him. He’d definitely fit in much better with her family if all the rumours about them are true.
That said, even I have to admit that for a sadistic son of a bitch, the guy has a handsome face. Or at least, he would if not for the scar running down his face. The jagged, angry line cuts its way down from cheek to jaw.
There are whispers aplenty as to how he got that. Some say he got into a knife fight with a gangster. Others say he did it to himself on a dare to prove he wasn’t a “pussy’.
Who knows what the actual truth is? All I know is that whatever the story is, it’s probably really fucked up.
The scar’s not the only thing that ruins his appearance either. Honestly, the guy couldn’t look more like a douche if he wanted. It’s almost as if that’s what he’s trying to accomplish. Talk about a waste of potential.
For instance, there’s his ever-present sneer. It sits on his brow, that perfect mix of arrogance and annoyance that’s so detestable. Then there’s his hair. He’s naturally blonde, but dyes it black. Not completely, though
His roots show through something considerable, but weirdly enough that’s always the case. It’s a little suspicious, actually, like his trying too hard to imply he doesn’t care about his looks. Clearly, he does; he’s just not doing a very good job at it.
Of course, that’s only my opinion, and not one I’d ever dare share with him. I’ve managed to live a relatively good school life, keeping off this guy’s radar. That’s all over now, though…
I sigh.
There’s no point resisting; I’ve accepted my fate.
A little bit of pain now and it will all pay off later. That’s if he doesn’t outright kill me, which is, granted, still an outcome that could happen. Hopefully, the chances of that are slim. As mean as he is, I don’t think he’s so stupid he’d kill someone at school… in broad daylight… Hopefully.
So as long as that doesn’t come to pass, I’m sorted. He can beat me up all he wants, so long as I live. I’ll be the one laughing when it comes time to press charges.
With the evidence I have in the form of my ongoing recording, it should make for an airtight case against him. One his family will no doubt pay quite well to make go away.
Ah, how the rich and powerful love to coddle their little hellspawns. Such predictability would be admirable if not for how many suffer because of their kind.
Now, all I have to do is let this happen…
Yet, as the moments draw on, something odd happens.
Nothing.
I frown. This isn’t right. What’s going on?
Derek’s eyes meet mine. The way I’m looking at him doesn’t escape his notice. His attention homes in on me like a compass seeking north. Here it comes. Do what you do best, asshole.
He lurches forward. I flinch backward. It’s not my intention to avoid the confrontation, merely my meek instincts kicking in.
My back hits the shelf behind me again, causing it to rock once more and yet… Despite my panic, that’s all that happens.
“Ha, what a loser!”
He lurches at me again, causing me to flinch a second time, albeit less so, but still. The guy really finds my reactions that amusing. What’s wrong with him?
This whole interaction has left me wondering a great many things. That is but the least among them.
As far as Derek goes, faking me out as he did is a kindness. I don’t understand what’s happening, not in the slightest.
That confusion only grows further when he asks his girlfriend a simple question. “What are you doing in here with this loser, babe?”
Does he really not know? Just how big of an idiot is this guy?
Granted, at this point, Bridget’s wiped the saliva from her face. Though her mascara is still streaked and lipstick smudged. That’s not to mention the fact that below the waist I’m only wearing my underwear. My pants still sit, neatly placed on the shelving behind me.
The girl shrugs like it’s all no big deal, like she didn’t just swallow my cum. “Nothing important. I was just leaving anyway.”
There’s no way he’s going to believe that, or so I tell myself. The truth, however, leaves me stunned.
“Well, come on. I want to make out before classes start.” He says without missing a beat.
How can he not question this? WHAT THE FUCK!
Before I can blink, the guy has his arm slung around his girl’s shoulder. Together, the two of them walk away, disappearing down the hallway.
There I am, left standing all alone, and still missing my pants.
I’m speechless, absolutely stunned, and understandably so. I should be dead, or failing that, a whimpering mess, curled up on the floor, begging for my life.
I can’t process what happened. I’m not even sure what did actually happen or why.
Is Derek a bigger idiot than everyone thinks? No, there’s no way. Even the most moronic person in the world would understand what he walked in on. Does that mean he’s a massive cuck then?
Fucking hell, how is that the more likely explanation?
No answers come to me, nor will they, no matter how much time I spend standing in there, contemplating the issue.
Like a robot, I move stiffly, going through the motions of putting my pants back on. Oh, and of course, I pause the recording. It’s not like it will be of much use now, will it?
There’s no payday coming my way. No ass beating either, so at least there’s that. Although, I suppose I also got my cock sucked by the most popular girl in school. Not just that either. No, she deep-throated me like it was going out of fashion. So, as far as these things go, I came out on top. Albeit a very confusing top.
Even as I play back a portion of the audio to make sure it really happened, I can’t believe that it did. I’m not imagining things. Bridget really did all this?
Yep, here it is, the evidence.
Wet, lewd sounds echo in the tight confines of the Janitor’s closet. Not entirely just within either. Derek and Bridget left the door open in their wake, and as such, the sound escapes the space. A fact that escapes my notice until this moment.
I panic. My fingers scramble to shut the recording off as soon as it starts to play, lest I draw the wrong kind of attention to myself.
There are so many questions bouncing around inside my head it’s not funny. I don’t know where to begin. Whatever the case, I know I can’t stay here. And so, I shuffle back to my classroom looking like a zombie with my mind vacant.
Bridget’s not there when I return, of course. She’s off somewhere, making out with her boyfriend. That said, I don’t process that fact. I don’t really process much of anything.