Vicious Boys by Nora Cobb
Chapter Twenty-One
Vicki
My heart starts pumping wildly when I see the look of hatred on her twisted face. Her shirttail is pulled out over her jeans, and the collar of her shirt is crooked, showing her bra strap. Her hair is a disheveled mess, as if she’s been rolling around in the woods. As her eyes narrow, she literally growls at me deep in her throat. With a sick feeling clinging to my mouth, I realize now why Jagan was looking for me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask her a stupid question to bide for an extra second.
“I used to work here,” Marcy replies, her voice silky and steady: dangerous. “Until a nosy little cunt got into my business.”
Moving slowly, I back away from her as she continues to approach me. I’m not sure what to say, but this would be a good time not to point out the obvious. She screwed up her own life.
“Look,” I say to her, “Jagan is looking for me. I need to go.”
There’s little I can say to reason with her. Suddenly, Marcy’s arm shoots out, and she grabs me, pulling my arm down as I fight to keep my balance. Her nails dig into the soft flesh in my upper arm, and a sharp sensation makes my eyes water as I’m helpless to pull away.
She’s furious beyond control, and I may not be able to fight her off. I have to convince her to let me go.
“I don’t want to fight. We’re both in enough trouble as it is.”
She answers me with a hard slap across the face. Stars appear before my eyes as my cheek stings from the pain. I sway from the shock, then scream as Marcy digs her nails deep into my flesh. She’s smiling maniacally as if it’s fun to watch me suffer. She doesn’t give a shit that she’s hurting me, and my stomach drops when I realize that she wants to hurt me.
“Let me go.” My lower lip trembles as I try to pull away. Marcy grabs a handful of my hair and twists it. My scalp is on fire as my forehead starts to throb. I scream as loud as I can, but it’s useless. If the door leading into the archives is closed, no one will hear me.
Marcy spins me around, places her heel on my ass, and shoves me forward with her foot. I tumble, and my knees slam into the concrete floor. Marcy’s rage has overpowered me as I lie there, stunned. My tongue is bleeding where I bit it, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
She’s too angry to beat. Her rage is giving her strength that I can’t defeat. As I struggle to get up from the floor, I know the awful truth: Marcy is going to teach me a lesson about getting into her business.
I did it to help Chase, not to tear her down. I love Chase, too, but Marcy doesn’t care. This has nothing to do with love. Her jealousy is going to be the end of me.
I try to crawl toward the door at the end of the hall, but Marcy runs up to me from behind, and with a twisted grin on her face, she kicks me until I’m forced to roll over in a fetal position. A sudden kick to the stomach and I collapse spread across the floor. Marcy flips me over, and she straddles my hips.
Tears cloud my vision as I shout, “What are you doing?” My voice shakes pathetically. “Stop. Stop!”
“I asked you once, Vicki.” Her eyes are practically flashing. “Do you think I only fuck boys?”
Blindly, I try to grab at anything, but I can’t get ahold of her. Marcy quickly pins my wrists above my head with one hand. With her other hand, she grabs my breast through my T-shirt and squeezes savagely. I yell out in agony as jagged pain stings my skin.
My scream ends in a sob as my mind hurts with memories I had prayed to forget. Memories of being pinned down to a hospital bed and being touched when I couldn’t fight back haunt me. I didn’t dare tell then. Retribution kept me silent. I can still hear the men’s voices in my nightmares. You can’t tell anyone because no one will believe you.
She stops, and I open my eyes to see what she is doing. Marcy has her phone in her free hand, and she’s tapping on the screen.
She looks over at me. “I want a video so I can watch you squirm and scream.” She balances her phone against a box on a shelf. I can see us on her screen—a sick selfie as her trophy.
Cold air chills my skin as Marcy yanks my shirt open. I can’t let this happen again. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let it happen again. I think about Silas and how I told him I was broken. He said he would’ve helped me. But who’s going to help me now?
No one. It has to be me.
Her nails rake down my body, burrowing down my pants until they start digging between my legs. A nasty smile spreads across her face. “Is this what darling Chase loves? This tight little cunt? Do you think he’ll still love it after I’m done with it?”
Her claws dig into me. A flare of pain bursts through my body and tears blur my vision as my legs flail uselessly behind Marcy. “Stop! Please stop!”
My cries of pain seem to spur her on. “Your tattling cost me my job,” she hisses. “Leave without pay? Just another way of saying go find another job.”
“You took everything from me.” Suddenly her hand is gone, and through a haze of tears, I see her undoing her belt. “So I’m going to do the same to you.”
If she ties my hands together, I’m finished. Marcy turns slightly and checks her phone to make sure we’re still on the screen. Her weight lifts, not enough for me to get free, but enough for me to twist. Desperation makes me stronger. I roll my hips hard and fast to the side and fling her off me. Marcy yelps as her outstretched hands hit the concrete floor.
I crawl backward quickly and grab for a shelf to help me up. For a brief moment, the overloaded shelf leans forward. Fuck it. I have to get on my feet. I keep pulling myself up until I’m standing. Marcy reaches out and grabs for my ankle. I start to lose my balance but regain it, holding onto the unstable shelf.
A disturbing moan comes from the top shelf as the boxes on top lurch forward. The shelving unit collapses. I cover my head as everything topples down onto the floor.
I stagger back and forth until my foot trips over scattered videotapes. I grab another shelf to break my fall and watch in horror as a row of metal shelves topples over on top of Marcy like a row of dominoes.
Everything is quiet. And I don’t want to look. When I do, it rips a scream from my gut. Marcy is lying underneath a twisted pile of metal and boxes. Her eyes are closed, and a gash is across her forehead. She doesn’t respond when I call out her name.
Stepping closer with cautious steps, my fingers tremble as I reach out. I shake Marcy’s shoulder again and again, but she won’t open her eyes.
I hear footsteps approaching and freeze. Someone turns the corner, and it’s Chase. He stares at the dust floating in the air, and then his eyes widen when he sees Marcy motionless and bleeding.
Chase climbs around the mess, but if we’re not careful, another shelf may fall.
“I was in the office with Jagan,” he says in a daze, “He asked me to come here and get you.”
My body shakes as I stare at his confused face. What disaster have I dragged Chase into? “I can’t wake her up. I don’t know what to do.” My voice rises higher as my panic builds. “Help me. Please.”
END OF BOOK 4
Vicki’s story continues in BOOK 5 – Wicked Boys
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