Chapter Seventy-One

Havermouth, Five Years Before

Aislen was getting good at covering bruises, she thought as she inspected her make up in the mirror. There was only the slightest darkness on her eye, the slightest puffiness, to betray that she had been on the receiving end of her father’s backhand the night before.

It had been the first time, in her memory, that Patrick had hit her, and the shock of it, the betrayal of his refusal to listen to her side, had been worse than the blow had been. She had never known him to be so angry, waves of it rolling off of him as her control over the bubbles had shattered. She had been sent to her room without dinner and stayed in there until she heard both her parents leave in the morning, although it made her late for school.

Heath had come for her after the game, she knew, having heard the doorbell the evening before, but her father turned him away.

The Triquetra hadn’t arrived by the time she finished in the bathroom and was ready to go, and she stood by the front door for a long moment, debating whether to leave or not. They would be angry with her, she knew. Although, they hadn’t ordered her to stay for the game, she understood that they expected her to do so. At least a part of her expected them to turn up and take her to the river house, to assert their dominance over her sexually, because that was how they thought. Their absence was… worrying. She did not know what would come next.

She ended up walking to school, arriving just as the recess bell went. She hurried to where the Triquetra habitually sat and saw Heath and Cameron teasing a girl that she knew vaguely, but not by name. Human. Beyond them, Rhett lay on his back with his arm draped over his eyes. She came to a standstill before the group. Heath and Cameron looked at her, their expressions blank and Rhett removed his arm and pushed up on his elbow.

The entire group of footballers, cheerleaders, and Triquetra stared at her.

“Oh dear,” Lillian drawled. “Someone doesn’t realize that she’s out now.” The group dissolved into laughter.

Aislen drew in a deep breath. She’d been replaced. She turned on her heel and strode away, her heart racing in her chest, and their laughter nipping at her heels. She returned to her locker and repacked her bag, her hands shaking.

“Miss Carter,” Mr. Graynor was on yard duty. “Leaving so soon?”

“I have an… an appointment,” she stuttered, caught and desperate to leave.

“I haven’t seen your portfolio for a while…”

She tugged it out from the pile of books and thrusted it to him, closing the locker. “I’m going to be late.” She rushed away, leaving him clutching his coffee in one hand, the portfolio in the other, and staring after her with his jaw unhinged.

She hurried through the streets of Havermouth without a definite destination. There was nowhere for her to go, she admitted to herself. She had no friends. She couldn’t go home. The Triquetra had discarded her…

She jumped when a horn honked behind her, and turned, hoping to see that Rhett had come after her. Instead, Toby from the Gamma Rho Xi’s looked out his window. He did not look well, his eyes shadowed and reddened, and his cheeks stubbled. “Liam’s crush,” he said, his voice hollow. “You look as lost as I am. Wanna get lost together?”

Aislen swallowed. “Yeah, okay,” she decided, and rounded the car, getting into the front seat and shoving her bag over the center console into the back.

He rolled up the window and drove on, without speaking. After a moment of silence, he turned up the music, which suited her, she thought, despair clawing through her. What did it matter anyway? She asked herself. Her life was shit. Her parents were ashamed of her. She had a reputation as a slut and whore. She’d been used in every way there existed to be used by the Triquetra, and then discarded like the trash she was. What did it even matter?

Toby pulled into a motor inn and turned off the car. “I’ll be back.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the seat whilst he went into the reception. They were going to have sex. She’d known that before she’d gotten into the car. She wasn’t even attracted to him, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel wanted, even if it was just for a few minutes whilst he fucked her…

“Coming?” He opened the passenger door and reached across her, opening the glovebox and taking a bag of drugs out, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. There was a bottle of whiskey on the floor near her feet and he took that too. “We’ll go get fucked up together.”

“Alright.”

She followed him down the line of doors, until he stopped before one and unlocked it. The room inside was dark, the shabby curtains drawn and spilling only pinpricks of light through the tears. It smelled of cigarettes and sadness, she thought, as she followed Toby in, closing the door behind her.

He opened the bottle of whiskey and took a swig before offering it to her. She lifted it to her mouth and felt the burn of the alcohol flow through her. He sat at the table and undid the top button of his jeans. “Blow me whilst I pack the bong,” he told her, taking the bag of drugs out of his pocket. “Here, have one of these first,” he slid a pill across the table surface to her.

“What is it?” The pill was an odd colour and had a smiling face pressed into it.

“E.” He put one on his tongue. “See. Perfectly safe.”

“Okay,” she put it in her mouth and felt it dissolve.

She took another mouthful of the whiskey to wash the taste of it away and then knelt between his legs. She didn’t mistake it as part of a transaction. He was supplying the drugs, alcohol, and room, and she supplied the sex. She had become exactly what the rumours called her: a whore.

His cock wasn’t hard. She used her hand to coax it to standing before taking him into her mouth. He grunted and then groaned. “Fuck,” he said with appreciation. “You know your way around a cock.”

She heard the wet suck of the bong as he inhaled, and smelled the distinct scent, reminding her of tomato leaves in the green grocers. He leaned back as he exhaled, relaxing in the chair, his head hanging back on his neck and his eyes closing. “Yeah, that’s right baby,” he moaned a moment before he came.

As she sat back on her heels and wiped the back of her hand across her lips, he offered her the whiskey bottle. “Doesn’t taste great, eh?” He commented and packed the bong again.

She took another mouthful of the whiskey. She was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, of the pill, her heartbeat throbbing against her ribs, her blood seeming to pick up speed and roar through her veins, and the bubbles bursting. POP! Flooding her mind with the thoughts of those in the hotel. So many people fucking, she realized.

“This is where people come to fuck,” she said, surprised.

“About the only trade that this dump does is hook ups and hookers,” he replied, before sucking down another lungful of smoke. He held it, fighting the instinct to release, before breathing out slowly and coughing. “Losers and the lost, all of us. Have a cone whilst I reload, and we’ll fuck, too.”

She stood and sat on the other seat. He slid the bong over to her. She remembered Guy holding the lighter to the lumpy mass of green and did the same, breathing in and holding her breath as Toby had done, before blowing it out in a slow stream.

He lit a cigarette and passed it to her, before lighting a second. They sat for a moment staring at each other through the growing haze of smoke. “So, why are you lost? Not that I particularly care,” he drawled. His face had gone slack, and his eyes had lost focus.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she shook her head. “You?”

“Same. So, no talking,” he stood. “Let’s fuck.”