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However, Ivy moved over to the woman with the bob next to her, who was just as tall as Ivy.
“Megan,” Ivy spoke to her. “Where should I even begin?”
Megan shook her head. “We were stupid kids—”
“Well, I’m a stupid adult. You want to see how stupid?” Ivy smiled, making the woman’s eyes open wider as she took a step back.
“Cillian.” Rachel stepped up. “We voted. Rory needs to own up.”
Megan, seeing the chance to save herself, spoke up as well, “She was old enough to know better.”
Savages. It’s how I knew we were all kin.
Ivy turned on the balls of her feet upon the grass toward Cillian, who now had to bear the weight of the crown he’d tried to put on his small head.
He looked at Rory, who hid behind Pierce, wide-eyed and shaking, gripping onto his hoodie. “We voted.”
“No. You can’t—”
Cillian nodded at Elroy and the men behind him, who pulled them apart. “NO! STOP!”
Rory stood in shock, looking, searching, desperate for help, and one by one they either looked to the side or just stood, uncaring.
Ruthless savages, my people were.
When she saw no help she got down on her knees. “Ivy, I’m so sorry! I’m—”
WHAM!
Ivy struck her so hard across the face with the baton that all I saw was Rory’s hair spin in the air before she landed on the ground.
“This is the good part,” I whispered over to the teenagers on the bench, taking my sandwich out of the baggie and taking a bite.
“I’m s—” She tried to get up, blood coming out of her month.
Ivy didn’t stop. Over and over she beat her into the ground, her hands, her legs, her face, blood splattering onto her white dress like a Jackson Pollock painting come to life.
“HELP!” Rory screamed, kicking her. She tried to run for help and no one offered it, nor did she get far due to the pain, and Ivy merely reached out, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her backside back on the grass.
“Ivy, please! IVY!” Pierce yelled, begging as he was being held back by Cillian’s boys no more than a foot from me. “Cillian, stop this!”
“Shhh!” I motioned over to him, still holding on to my sandwich. “You’re not supposed to talk during the show.”
And that is what this was.
There was no greater show on earth than watching a person get exactly what they deserved.
It was only out of sheer exhaustion that Ivy had to stop, and when she looked up from the woman now curled up into a fetal position, trembling, her face was covered in blood. Her hand was sore from gripping the baton so tightly. It slipped from her fingers, though I didn’t think she noticed. Instead, she wiped the blood on her face with her arm, which only smeared it. Reaching under the skirt of her dress, she pulled out the revolver.
“My mother-in-law gave me this—”
“IVY!” Cillian finally spoke up. “You have gotten a just—”
“No.” Ivy shook her head, her eyes wide and hollowed out, and she pointed at Rory. “This will all heal. In a few months she’ll heal. Not like Sarah Foster, the paralyzed girl—”
“Sarah Foster is not part of the neighborhood. This isn’t about—”
“You don’t get it.” Her voice became softer, and everyone watching in silent shock could all hear her clearly. “It’s always about me. Sarah Foster cursed me in that courtroom. She screamed and cried, and I took it all because I thought it really was me who did that to her. I told myself I’d go to apologize when I got out. But then Sarah Foster killed herself. And the weight of that along with everything else…part of me died that day. Rory did that. So…I’m getting justice for me...still. She should live with something that haunts her too, right? Mental abuse is still abuse. It is either this or she comes to see me every day until that same part of her dies too.”
