Rejection to a spoiled little bitch like him was a tough pill to swallow. It was foreign, and I was sure that rejection made him question everything around him. He needed validation, to feel superior because superiority gave him purpose. It channelled that god-complex in him. I deserve that little bitch. Who does she think she is to reject me? I’m the best thing to ever happen to her.
Revenge required perfect opportunity.
I’d been searching for an opportunity to get him alone for two whole weeks after the incident. And then it happened. On a warm night, I followed Deck-the-halls out of a movie theatre. He said goodbye to his friends before making his way through the parking lot and to his car. It was parked near the fence that backed on to an empty lot of an industrial building. No witnesses. No cameras. Out of plain sight. It was fucking glorious.
His car was under the shade of a pine tree, the perfect place for me to hide. I knew the heavens, if they existed, had shined their light on me and said, “Aston, this is your fucking opportunity for revenge. God is looking the other way. You fuck this fucking fuck up and no consequences will follow.”
I slid the balaclava over my head as he neared, tightly gripped the steel bat in my hand and came at him from behind. He was unlocking the driver’s door when I grabbed the collar of his shirt and threw him down to the ground. He yelped in surprise and looked up at me. It was dark. I was the big bad wolf, six feet tall and grizzly with my steel bat banging against the ground. Cling-cling.
His eyes widened in fear, and he put his hand out as if to stop me. “Hey, don’t hurt me, man! I’ll give you my wallet,” he begged. “Or my car. Anything!”
Fucking pussy.
“What-what do you want?”
“I want to watch you bleed,” I growled, swinging the bat ‘til it hit flesh and bone.
I wanted the blood. I wanted the pain. I wanted him to cry. This was my revenge; I waited for it, I was patient for it, I took the opportunity presented and gave it my all. I didn’t care about right or wrong. Standing there, masked and anonymous, it wasn’t Aston beating Deck-chair. It was Deck-of-cards getting what he deserved for taking advantage of girls who said no.
Call it wrong. Call me bad. I didn’t give a fuck. Strip the law away, strip morals and etiquette, and you had animals. Animals fighting for what was theirs; it was a justice system that was encoded in our DNA, and I wasn’t going to fight against what was natural to me.
My genius sat mute while my brain chanted the numbers of cracks I felt beneath my bat.
One concussion, one broken leg, and ten stitches on the head later, I called it even.
*
Deck didn’t know it was me, and I found it fucking comical he said he’d tried stopping a mugging before he was violently beaten by a group of enormous men. Wrestlers he’d called them at some point.
The pussy had driven himself to the hospital (admirable for a man with one working leg) and filed a false police report because he was that obsessed with keeping his image. Dad responded to that call and he came home with his partner Adrian for dinner the next night, talking about how crazy some people were, shaking his head at the “poor guy” who had tried to do the right thing.
I wondered what he’d think of the “poor guy” if he knew he tried to rape his own daughter.
“I don’t know what this town is becoming,” Dad grumbled, “but I’m not liking it.”
I didn’t say a word in response, but Elise stared at me from the across the table. Her blue eyes misted, and I wanted to hold her to me and wipe away the tears threatening to spill. I did it for you, I wanted to say. I did it because you said no and he didn’t listen. And that’s what bitch boys get when they don’t listen.
“He goes to your school,” he continued, looking directly at Elise. “Your grade.”
She looked away from me and shrugged. “He’s in one of my classes.”
“You should make sure he gets some help making his way around.”
“He has a lot of friends,” she replied in a hard voice. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Dad. He’s a rich boy and he acts like it.”
“Rich doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Mom cut in, frowning at Elise.
Adrian, who was the same age as Dad but meatier, nodded in agreement. “Your mom is right, El. If anything, money makes you more of a target.”
“I think she means Deck’s always seemed entitled,” I quickly explained.
Dad looked at me disapprovingly. “I don’t care how entitled a person is, they don’t deserve to be beaten to a pulp, Aston. He tried to do the right thing.”
“I disagree,” I replied calmly. “I think if a person has a shit attitude and selfishly try and take what they don’t deserve, they need to be taught a lesson. He’s a bad person, and I wouldn’t take what he says seriously. Personally, I don’t feel one bit upset that he’s in the hospital.”