“And let your skinny ass deal with that motherfucker alone? Get real, kid.”
I shrug, climbing out of the Jeep. We walk up the street to his house, keeping to bushes and trees when possible.
“What if his parents are home?” Jace whispers. “What then?”
“I already stalked out his parents on social media. They go to church every Sunday and then go to his mom’s sister’s for lunch. Without fail.”
We prowl across his yard and then walk up the steps on Eli’s front porch to the front door. Jace and I thought long and hard over breakfast this morning coming to the best solution.
Surprise attack.
Jace stands off to the side—because who would really answer the door to a six-foot, tatted up, cut as fuck ex-convict looking dude?—while I bang on the front door. A few minutes later, I hear footsteps and then the door opens.
“You’ve got some balls showing up here alone,” Eli sneers. “Come to finish what you started?”
Jace steps in front of me. “She’s not alone, fuckwad.”
I don’t get to see the look of surprise on Eli’s face, but the sickening pop of Jace’s fist is enough satisfaction for me. Eli crumples to the entryway floor, knocked out cold.
Jace shakes out his hand and then drags Eli away from the door so we can close it behind us. He towers over him while I squat down.
“You’re really going to do this? Are you sure you want to see—”
“Take off his shirt,” I order. “Now.”
Jace grumbles but works on removing Eli’s shirt while I unbutton his jeans. I grab his jeans and boxers, pulling them all the way down to his ankles. Once his dick, in a nest of overgrown pubes, is on display, I grab my Sharpie from my hoodie pocket.
I’m a fucking wannabe rapist with a teeny tiny dick.
I write it nice and big across his chest, making sure to draw many arrows to his stupid cock. Jace snorts out a laugh.
Roofies are the only way I can get laid.
That line gets written on his thigh.
Bitch boy.
Forehead.
Paxton and Aaron are wannabe rapists too.
That shit gets written on his arm.
I got beat up by a girl because the girl I tried to rape fought back.
That gets written on his upper chest. I draw a line from that statement up his neck, over his chin, past his cheek, and to his head where I nailed him with a baseball bat.
I could write horrible things on him all day, but he’s starting to come to and I don’t want to stick around to talk to him.
“You done?” Jace asks, eyeing Eli like he might have to ram his fist up his nose.
“Not quite.”
I grab Eli’s phone from his pocket. He has a face scanner, which I easily use to unlock his phone by holding it in front of him. I scroll through his texts until I find where he’s been texting me. He has me saved as Ice Cunt. Asshole. I delete our text conversation and my contact from his phone. I also skim through his files and pictures, making sure to erase my naked body from his device. Then, I start taking pictures of him with his own phone.
“What…” Eli groans in confusion.
Ignoring him, I type up a text.
I’m a sexual predator. I need help. Thankfully, I didn’t succeed in raping an underaged girl. The girl woke up and saved herself before I could put my dick inside of her. My friends Paxton and Aaron wanted to rape her too. Also, I love cocaine. I like threatening girls and cornering them in the bathroom with my friend Grayson. One of my best friends, Ryan, went to prison for rape. It’s like we’re a band of really fucked up guys who will all land in prison sooner or later. Best to get help now. Whoever sees this message, this is me reaching out for help before I really hurt someone. You probably better talk to my friends too because they’re no better. Someone should castrate me. I deserve it. Maybe I should just end my life. It would be better that way. The girl I nearly raped has video evidence of the sexual crime and will use it against me in court if I don’t seek help. Help. I’m all alone and my thoughts are harmful to myself and others. Mom, if you’re at Aunt Jean’s, call the police because I don’t think you’ll get to me in time.
I make sure to send that text to every single person on his contact list including Mom, Dad, Pastor Rick, Grandma, Nonna, Paw, Aunt Jean, Grayson’s Dad, and a whole other slew of people who will probably have a meltdown over this.
Quickly, I explore the house, finding a bottle of pills from the master bathroom. Once I return, Eli is putting up a fight, but Jace has his foot planted on his chest. I wipe down his phone, turn it off, and then set it on the entryway table beside the bottle of pills. Then, I snap at Jace with my fingers.
We start for the door, careful to wipe away evidence of anything we touched. My Sharpie comes with me, too. With one look over my shoulder, I glance at my handiwork. Eli looks pitiful as he tries to make sense of what just happened. Jace and I slip out without a sound, racing back to my Jeep.
“Ho-lee-shit,” Jace drawls out. “You’re fucked up, kid.”
I smirk at him. “You’re not supposed to be proud.”
“Oh, but I am. Really fucking proud. You handled your shit like a boss.” He lifts a brow at me. “Are we going to get the hell out of here?”
“Not yet.” I point at a neighbor, who comes running from their house, a phone pressed to their ear. “Looks like they’re worried Eli might take his own life.”
“You’re evil, Penny English. To the core.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you have to be worse than your enemies. I’m not about to let assholes like Eli and his fuckbuddy gang get the last laugh. I know what happened to Charlotte and I’ll be damned if I let the same thing happen to me.”
The woman rushes into Eli’s house. Two other neighbors hurry over as well. I can tell Jace is antsy, but I’m not in any hurry. Sirens begin wailing from the distance.
“Penny…” Jace warns.
“It’s fine. You’re being paranoid.”
A police cruiser and ambulance fly past me. With glee, I watch them rush into Eli’s house. Not long after that, a white Lexus pulls up. Based on what I learned from social media, it’s his parents’. Eli’s mother is crying and her husband is barely holding her up.
I should feel bad for them.
It’s not their fault their son is a sadist sexual predator.
But I don’t.
This is all part of his punishment. He’ll have a helluva hard time talking his way out of this one. Sure, he can say someone hit him and that he didn’t write that stuff on himself, but it’s still enough to cause doubt in everyone’s minds. They’ll have to take his text seriously in case he really is suicidal. Not to mention, no one is going to let him get by without answering hard questions about the allegations written all over his body.
I wish I could be a fly on the wall, listening to each and every question that makes him squirm. Unfortunately, Jace is about to go insane beside me. With a heavy sigh, I turn on the Jeep and boldly drive past Eli’s house. Jace slouches, but I rubberneck the whole time.
“Insane,” Jace grumbles. “Just like your dad.”
At this, I laugh. “Dad is not insane.”
“Aww, the little princess is blind to her crazy-ass pops. He’s my best friend. I’ve seen him in action. He’s a fucked up power monster like you.”