Nero(71)

“Oh, my God. I think he may need to be admitted,” Chloe whispered.

Elle’s eyes went back to Chloe. “He is a psychopath, for sure, but he is the nicest one out of the three.”

“Sorry, Elle, but he isn’t. Nero is.” Chloe stated it like it was a fact.

Elle opened her mouth. “No, he isn’t!”

Chloe picked up a chicken strip and took a bite. “He is, too. You’re just in the denial stage.”

Elle reluctantly picked up her own strip, thinking it looked too tasty, and took a bite. “The denial stage?”

“Yeah. The five stages of heartbreak.”

Elle rolled her eyes at her best friend. There’s no such thing.

She and Chloe had a good lunch, regardless of what had happened. When it was time to head to class, Vincent came back over to walk them. One look at Vincent’s face and she let him; bringing Hannibal Lecter out wasn’t on her to-do list for the day.

Vincent walked beside Elle and Elle walked beside Chloe. She had to admit it was pretty weird because Vincent had walked behind Chloe before while Nero used to walk beside her. She turned her head and saw Nero and Amo walking a few feet back. Ugh!

Elle was going to have to get over that because, unfortunately, they could walk wherever they pleased.

Turning her head back around, Cassandra appeared before her. Elle came to an immediate stop. Oh, shit.

Elle had seen she was back at English class and wasn’t eager to see what she would do to her for getting her suspended.

“Long time, no see, waitress,” Cassandra’s high-pitched voice rang in her ears.

Vincent slung his arm around Elle’s shoulders. “I figured you would have found out that Nero told everyone not to call Elle that anymore. I guess no one gives a shit about you when you’re gone.”

Cassandra’s mouth gaped open then quickly shut as she took a step forward. “I heard. I just didn’t believe it. I missed four days of school—thanks to you—and you somehow think you’re the queen?” Cassandra looked Elle up and down, laughing hysterically. “You’re wearing the sweater my mom tossed into the Goodwill bin last month. You’re a trashy, little waitress, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

As Elle looked at the deranged face on Cassandra as she laughed, she wanted to run and get the stupid sweater off her body.

“And you’re just a slutty, little whore who is jealous that your tits weren’t able to fill the sweater out.” Vincent laughed in her face. “I thought it looked familiar, but I guess I’m only used to seeing you without clothes and on your knees.”

Elle couldn’t believe her ears and was shocked beyond belief while Cassandra looked like she had just been punched in the face.

Vincent pulled Elle to move along as he threw his final blow. “Come on, Elle. Don’t worry; no one will recognize the slut’s sweater on you. We’re all used to seeing her naked and swallowing.”

Elle moved with Vincent, still stunned. She looked at Chloe, shaking her head and wondering if it was real, too.

“I think that might have been a little harsh.” Cassandra had never been treated like that in her life. She despised Cassandra, but Elle didn’t wish her own life upon her.

“Sweetheart, I frankly don’t give a shit.”

* * *

Elle couldn’t move a bone in her body as the tears slid down her cheek. She had watched the face of the beautiful girl named Chloe kick her in the ribs. Elle had nothing left anymore, becoming numb and paralyzed by the second person in the group to beat her.

Elle had begged at first—pleaded—but it all had still led her to the continuation of the beating. So, Elle had given up, thinking maybe lying there broken would be enough to get them to stop.

The laughing still punctured her ears along with the jokes. Those had hurt just as bad as the various shoes kicked at her face and body.

“Let’s get out of here,” she heard one of them say. “The bitch got the message. Good job, Chloe.”

Elle couldn’t help staring up into the gray eyes, trying to deliver her message. When Elle could no longer see her, she had known Chloe had understood.

Elle lay there, wondering how long it would take for death to come and rescue her from her nightmare. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm, red liquid start to coat her body. She knew it was coming soon. Soon, she would be free…



Elle heard the rapping of the door enter her dream. “Sweetie, don’t you work tonight?”

Elle tried to open her eyes, blinking back the wetness that had formed in her sleep.

The sound returned. “Elle?”

Elle finally saw her bedroom door before her and was able to remember where she was at. “Yeah. Sorry, Mom. I fell asleep.”