Page 52 of Lucky 14

Of course, they don’t even hesitate. Both come after me, splashing and stumbling.

“Heard you were kissing a boy, faggot.”

Scrambling back, I get to the other side of the creek. When they beat my ass, I don’t want to be in the water, or they’ll more than likely drown me.

Something cold and familiar grips my chest. Fear.

I shove it back down. I don’t feel fear. If you show weakness around here, you die.

“Little fucking gay boy, huh? Should’ve known you’d try to embarrass the family like that.” There’s a harsh grip on my shoulder, and I’m ripped around. My oldest brother’s fist smashes into my face.

“Bitch!”

I stumble, but there’s another blow to my head. I swing my own fists, attempting to grab onto and rip their dicks off.

I didn’t kiss Liam, not that my brothers would listen. But the rumor has been going around at school that I had him behind the bleachers, and whatever the rumor says, goes.

Something slams into my side so hard I grunt.

“That’s right, cry for me.”

I glare up at my brother, his face twisted in anger. My own face twists, a mirror image of his. “Go to hell.” Then, I rake my foot down his shin.

That earns me more punishment. They rain strike after strike until I’m sure they’ve broken something. Through it all, I don’t stop fighting, and I don’t cry. And when they leave me on the cold, wet ground, I refuse to feel anything, not even fear.

Fear is reserved for the weak. And I’m not weak.

Suddenly, I’m back in the present with Fourteen, covered in mud, glaring at me with fearless hatred.

Goosebumps prick up the back of my neck, and I take a step back, scanning my surroundings, further grounding myself. This isn’t the past.

I see Fourteen’s eyes dart to the ridge above the creek, and I know she’s going to jump. It’s a good six feet above the rocks, but I see it in her eyes. She’d rather break a leg than give in.

And that makes me feel a way I haven’t felt in years.

My gut twists.

Then, Fourteen jumps. I suck in a breath as she falls, watching it in slow motion. She hits the water, collapsing into it. For a second, that odd cold feeling grips my chest, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

Then, Fourteen is up again, scrambling out of the water, and something odd happens. Her blouse turns into a ripped t-shirt, and her hair turns dark. I blink, a phantom ache in my chest, watching the person go. Because for a second it doesn’t look like Fourteen running into the woods.

It looks like me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Day 3

At first, I thought this headache felt like a bunch of elves tapping nails into my eyebrow. But no, it actually feels like a toddler is hammering an ice pick through my eye. The pack on my back feels like it’s full of rocks.

I saw a shadow chase after Holland, and as soon as I could, I got up, chasing after them. The world was spinning, and I got a bit turned around in the trees, but that didn’t stop me from looking. I’ve spent the rest of the day searching for Holland, but it’s like she vanished straight into thin air. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve wished I knew how to track.

My throat is tight. I wonder for the hundredth time what’s happening to her. Did the game master catch her? If he did….did he… I can’t finish the thought. Only, I can. Visions of Holland getting raped and killed dance in my head. In the brief moments where those visions fade, I wonder who Holland is. Does she have a family? A boyfriend? Kids? I make up scenarios about her past that make the rape and torture even worse. Her calling out for her husband. Her wishing she could kiss her daughter one last time as she bleeds out on the forest floor.

I vomit repeatedly until there’s only bile coming up. Stumbling over roots and rocks kicks me back into the present only sometimes.

The sun is down, and it’s terrifying out here. The wind is louder than I ever remember it being, and with every sound from the trees, I think some murderer is going to jump out at me.

But I’m a horrible person. I deserve to be out here. It doesn’t matter that I thought this was some stupid, harmless cult. What matters is that I hurt someone carelessly. More than just hurt. Signed her death warrant while I was drunk off my ass.