Chapter Eleven: Going too Far
Her chair had been removed.
Hell, her desk had been removed, too, just like last time.
And it was all because she'd gotten Connie in trouble that morning.
The whole school knew about it, and that's why the bullying was as intense as it was today. Thankfully, with her wheelchair, all Meg really had to do was write on her own lap, so that's what she did. Her first two classes had come and gone in an unpleasant blur, since people had taken advantage of her crippled state to do cruel things to her.
She'd already had two garbage cans dumped on her head, and a few minutes ago, one of her classmates had sabotaged the pencil shaver so she'd had an excuse to move it.
Then, in a spectacular manner, she'd made a show of tripping and emptied the whole thing on her.
Now, she was near the end of her third class, enduring the next stage of bullying.
Spitting.
Just have to get through this hour, she silently told herself, scrawling the answers to her schoolwork and wincing every time another wad of fluid hit her each time the teacher looked away. Then I have lunch, and I can get away from this hellhole...
She hunched her shoulders and ducked down, trying to shield her paper as she wrote.
To little avail.
Now and then, a glob of spit landed on it.
Not like being spit on was anything new... even her own family had done it once, although, the reason for it had been much more serious than petty hate since her house had been broken into by armed robbers.
It had been one of the worst nights of her life.
When she'd heard the crashes coming from downstairs, she'd come running out of her room, and her father had intentionally hit her with a baseball bat. Then, after they'd gone into the home security room to hide, Peter had somehow convinced everyone that Meg could make it downstairs long enough to call the police.
They'd all spit on her and forcibly shoved her into an opening the size of a freaking doggie door, but when she'd finally made it down to the kitchen, her father had intentionally alerted the robbers that she'd been trying to call the police.
As a result, she'd been taken hostage the whole night.
And, unfortunately, she'd been felt up more than a little.
Like with Mike Pulaski, when they'd put their hands on her, she'd gone somewhere else inside her head and had imagined herself being over-the-top flirty and seductive, to the point where her ugliness had grossed the two robbers out.
In reality, she'd been groped for over a half an hour with a gun against her chin. It had been an extreme relief that the police had arrived when they had, otherwise things might have taken a horrific turn.
School, on the other hand, was different.
The bullies that inhabited the building were like cockroaches, scuttling in her peripheral vision, anticipating the moment she would so much as glance at them so they could tear her down. She'd been a punching bag for others for as long as she could remember and she tried so, so hard to not let it bother her.
But it hurt. It hurt her so much sometimes she couldn't breathe.
It wasn't just physical – being told that she was worthless and should just die all the time just really fucked with her.
Another glob of spit hit the back of her head.
"Die."
There was that word again. Spoken by the girl sitting directly behind her. The pain in her lungs was nearly crippling. Meg flinched when a glob of spit landed on her glasses. Then, by some miracle, the bell rang and the whole class erupted into a flurry of action.
Meg instantly folded her work paper up and rolled her way past her classmates, ignoring the way they kicked her wheelchair. She set the paper on the teacher's desk and hastily made a u turn for the door, rocketing out into the hall and speeding down toward's the girl's bathroom.
Once she was there, she gripped the sink and heaved herself upright, skinny arms shaking with the effort.
Tugging her deadened legs out of the chair, she dragged herself onto the bathroom counter and looked in the mirror, assessing the damage done to her clothes. Part of her wondered when this sort of thing had become a routine, but wondering would change nothing, so she squashed that part down.
Turning the faucet on with a sigh, she removed her glasses and dunked her hair under the water, rinsing the spit out of it. Then she moved onto her clothes. Scooting her way across the counter, she snatched a paper towel and soaked it before proceeding to scrub the front of her clothes off.
Thankfully, the wheelchair had prevented any spit from landing on her back or shoulders, so she was able to get the disgusting fluid off fairly easy. Finally as clean as she could possibly be, she carefully cleaned her glasses, then slid back into her chair and rolled her way over to the hand driers. Not for the first time in her life, she was grateful that her school had automatic air drying technology.
Within minutes, her clothes and her were completely dry.
Meg smoothed her hair out to the best of her ability, then turned the wheelchair and rolled back into the hall.
Determined to get away from everyone, she began to push herself past the chattering students.
She ignored the eyes that landed on her as she did so, determined as she was.
But then... she heard it.
"Hey, Griffin!"
Meg's shoulders tensed and her arms froze, wheelchair slowly rolling to a stop.
She knew who it was.
And she knew what it was about.
Slowly turning the wheelchair, she spotted him coming.
Jared.
His dark eyes were even darker with fury, and it actually made her hair stand on end.
He sneered the moment he saw her shrink.
She half expected him to kick her or do something awful... but instead, all he did was casually grab the back of the chair's handlebars and push her down the hall. She squeezed the front of her skirt as the hallway began to roll past, eyes widening and cheeks going bone white.
This can't be good, she panicked, frantically looking around. Where is he taking me?!
"So," he growled, making her whole body flinch. "I heard about what you did this morning. You got Connie suspended for an entire week. Now, why'd ya have to go and do a thing like that, hmmm?"
Meg couldn't respond, and he knew it.
"I have a responsibility to Connie as her boyfriend. You should have just kept your head down."
Meg felt a cold chill run through her entire body when she realized the path he was taking. In their whole school, there was only one set of stairs going down from the first floor, and it led to a frequently visited shortcut between the cafeteria and the hall he was pushing her down.
She didn't want to believe he would do something this dangerous to her.
It wasn't possible.
She was crippled, she couldn't talk, or even walk, so...
So that just made it easier.
Meg's heart flew up her throat when he turned around the corner.
The stairs ahead reflected in her glasses, making her pulse pound in her ears. Jared's pace slowed quite a bit as they moved forward... but then, he jerked her to a halt.
"Damn, that's a long way down, isn't it?" Jared whispered into her ear, making her shiver. "You only have yourself to blame, Meg. Bye bye."
And just like that, he shoved her forward.
Meg squeezed her eyes shut when her wheelchair went flying... then she was falling.
Separated from the chair, she fell forward and the ground came rushing up to meet her.
But instead of hitting cold tile, she landed on something soft.
Her legs dropped and dangled beneath her body when her jaw smacked into something that smelled like old spice. Eyes squeezed shut, all she could do was pray... but then, she slowly began to feel again. Somehow, her subconscious had prepared her for agony, so her nerves had temporarily shut off.
Two strong arms were wrapped around her middle, and something that felt like leather was beneath her chin. Tentatively opening her eyes, Meg jerkily shifted her head, spotting a shock of soft blonde hair.
"Alister... the hell did you just try to do?" a familiar voice growled into her ear. "Are you trying to kill her?!"
"Naw, man," Jared snickered from behind. "Just wanted to teach her a lesson."
Meg's face contorted when his arms tightened around her middle to the point where her ribs popped.
"Well, that lesson of yours might have landed you in prison if I hadn't been in the right place in the right time," Mike Pulaski snorted, shifting Meg's body and unexpectedly hefting her over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "She's still healing from a back injury, dude. That fall could have killed her."
"Psh, who cares?" Jared mocked, making Meg's eyes slowly slide closed. "Since you seem to have this situation so under control, why don't you take over instead? A little bruise here and there, for Connie's sake."
Silence filled the hallway, and Michael's left arm tightened around her waist yet again.
"Fine," he said simply, then bent down and snatched the edge of her chair before stalking down the hall. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. Gives me an excuse to release a bit of steam."
Meg's heart flew up her throat, but then she remembered the deal they had with each other.
She almost relaxed.
Almost.
But then...
"Sweet!" Jared called. "Meet me in the hall by the cafeteria! I'll gather a crowd to watch like last time!"
Mike's footsteps faltered for a second, then resumed at a much, much slower pace.
"Shit..."
The sound of his curse made her heart pound all over again. Carrying her down the hall, he made his way toward the other set of stairs. Meg's hair was upside down, sliding back and forth across his back as she lay draped over his shoulder, bleakly staring at the red fabric of his varsity jacket, not having the strength to move her upper torso. Lifting herself would have required her to use back muscles she couldn't flex anymore.
Dread flooded through her, however, when she heard the sound of chatter in the distance.
They'd reached the top of the stairs.
With every step Mike took, uncertainty fluttered within her heart.
What would he do once they arrived?
Would he stick up for her?
Would he tell off everyone who'd been picking on her?
He had, after all, come to visit her in the hospital... and the little acts of kindness here and there had to mean something, right?
But no.
Her hopes were in vain, because the moment he rounded the corner, his weight shifted and he literally chucked her body down the hall with all of his strength. Meg hit the ground hard, smacking her head against the tile and nearly knocking herself out in the process; it was hard to hear anything but the ringing that had dominated her head. She heard muffled laughter and felt things hitting her chest and face.
She could vaguely see a crowd of students coming closer, chucking things at her, holding their phones up.
Then Mike began to advance, shoulders hunched, amber eyes practically glowing like a demon's.
Heart pounding, Meg slowly began to crawl away from him, dragging herself backwards since he only kept coming.
The students that had formed a circle around them were smiling, laughing, egging him on.
Face screwing up, she struggled to pull herself backwards until she felt the metal lockers touching her shoulders. And yet, Mike only kept coming, and the students drew closer, surrounding her like the vultures they were and holding their phones out. Meg struggled to get up, but her legs were useless.
She stared up at Mike through her glasses, huddled against the lockers, whole body shaking.
Then he lunged, and she covered her face with her arms.
Instead of hitting her, however, he gripped her wrists and pinned them against the lockers. She found herself staring clean into the burning amber irises that scared her so badly. It was like looking into the fires of hell.
Sinking down and squatting, he pinned her against the lockers and leaned as close to her nose as possible. She'd never been this close to another male's face since the incident with Glen Quagmire.
Being this close dragged up the memory of giving that asshole her first kiss.
Several students started laughing when she squirmed a little, struggling to move her wrists and swallowing the lump in her throat when he simply stared at her.
"She's like a bug in a spiderweb!" someone hollered. "Damn, she can't even move!"
Meg shivered when he leaned close to her ear.
She could feel warm breath on her neck, and it scared her.
"Listen up," he growled, thick eyebrows furrowed. "I'm going to move now, and when I do, you'd better not even twitch. If you do, the bet is off... and I'll personally make your life living hell from here on out."
She shivered at the blatant threat in his eyes.
But when he lifted his left arm from her wrist, she didn't react.
Her hands trembled, but she didn't budge an inch.
Her mouth quivered when he lifted his hand and brought it close to her face, but instead of touching her cheeks or her forehead, he grabbed her glasses and jerked them off her face. Meg winced when he threw them off to the side.
"Look at me."
His voice was low and threatening.
It made her stomach knot up.
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and stared at his blurry face, feeling lightheaded.
She couldn't see what he was doing, or his eyes, so that made it better... but also a hundred times worse.
Then, he leaned forward.
And the whole hallway went dead quiet within seconds.
For several moments, not a single sound went through the hallway.
Meg blinked, wanting to look and see what everyone was so quiet about, but his warning kept her still. His grip on her wrist unexpectedly tightened, making her flex her fingers a little... but then, his other hand grabbed and fisted in her hair. Tight, he pushed her head back against the lockers, and she couldn't understand why.
"Oh... my... God..." someone finally whispered. "No... way!"
"Dude, is he serious?!" someone hissed. "Is he really...?!"
"Take this somewhere else," Jared's voice suddenly commanded. "It's fucking disgusting to watch."
Mike's hand clenched so hard that Meg's wrist popped.
She had to bite her tongue to force back the scream of agony that wanted to claw its way up her throat. Mike finally leaned back and turned away from her face.
"What are you gonna do if I say no, Jared?" he cockily demanded. "I don't know if you got the memo, but I do whatever the hell I want whenever I want to do it. Hell, if I wanted to fuck Megan Griffin here and now, you couldn't say shit about it, could you? I mean, not like it's a secret I could kick your ass from here to China, is it?"
Meg went bone cold in her stomach the moment she heard him say that.
Her entire body tensed up and she started shivering uncontrollably, but Jared merely folded his arms. His next words were spoken with such an icy tone of disgust that his voice alone could have frozen hell completely solid.
"I'm not too worried about that," he said simply, "after all, you know what the consequences of being nice to her are."
Meg squinted at everyone's blurry forms with a blank face.
Trying to process what the hell was going on and what they were all talking about.
But then, Mike's hand grasped the front of her shirt.
And without taking his eyes off of Jared's, he ripped her turtleneck right down the middle. Meg jumped and tried to fight him when the tear exposed her bra and stomach, but he snatched her hair and kept her head pressed against the lockers. She went lightheaded, and everyone who'd been laughing uncertainly fell silent.
"Well?" Mike demanded, quirking a brow. "You gonna stand there and watch me? Or are you gonna get the hell out of my face?"
Meg's face went white as a ghost and she attempted to mouth 'what are you doing?!' at him, but his fist tightened.
So much that she saw spots.
She couldn't breathe.
He only lessened the pressure when she shut her mouth again.
"Psh, do what you want," Jared snorted, stiffly heading into his classroom. "If this is how you want to play things, I hope you're ready to accept what happens. Have fun."
When he vanished into the classroom, terror nearly made Meg black out.
All of the other people around them followed. Many of the guys were catcalling and shouting vulgar things. A few other students, particularly the girls among the group, looked extremely worried and uncomfortable.
But none of them said anything or spoke against him.
Soon, Meg and Mike were alone.
When he turned and looked at her, he let go of her throat... and she opened her mouth to attempt screaming. Even if her voice wouldn't work, she could still try until it did. Before she could so much as take a breath, his hand smacked into her face and he grasped her jaw, covering her mouth.
She looked in his general direction in sheer fright.
For a long moment, he merely stared right at her... or glared... she assumed it was a glare.
Then, to her surprise, his hand drew back and he let go of her, standing up and grumpily dusting himself off. Walking across the hall, he bent down and grabbed something, then stalked back over and squatted again.
Suddenly, her glasses were on her face and she could see everything again.
She blinked at him in confusion when he roughly gripped her chin and looked at the side of her head where she'd hit the floor. His eyes narrowed, then flicked lower, to her exposed belly.
To her horror, his gaze landed on the puckered circular scar resting between her bra cups. His brows furrowed and he tried to look closer, but before he could really look at her chest area, she snatched her sweater and quickly dragged it closed.
A scowl slid across his face.
"Wipe that look off your face," he muttered, getting up and nudging her thigh. "As if I'd ever touch you."
She didn't move.
Merely looked up at him with wary eyes, wondering what he'd done, why everyone had left.
Why he'd ripped her shirt open.
She had so many unanswerable questions.
But then, before her very eyes, he unzipped his jacket and took it off, dropping it to the floor. Meg swallowed when she saw his arm muscles, which bulged beneath the white T-shirt he was wearing. She alone knew just how much muscle he had. She'd felt it up close and personal when he'd kicked the living tar out of her.
Then, to her utter shock, he lifted those ripped arms and took his shirt of completely.
Meg's eyes should have melted.
Or at the very least, she should have gone completely blind.
It was like looking at the figure of a Roman god.
Mike Pulaski may have been a bully, but he had a body that most guys could only dream of, with a hard six pack and defined abs and everything. He was chiseled from head to toe. Stunned, Meg watched could only stare at him with huge eyes.
Then he chucked his T-shirt at her and it landed on her face, blocking her view.
By the time she pulled it off, he was already jerking his jacket back on and zipping it up.
"Put that on," he commanded, pointing at the white shirt and turning around with a frown. "It'll look better than that piece of shit sweater you were wearing anyway. Damn thing was ugly as fuck."
Meg blinked herself back to the present, then looked down at her destroyed sweater.
With a sigh, she shrugged her destroyed shirt off, wondering how the hell he'd managed to rip a turtleneck in half. When she pulled on the white t-shirt he'd given her, she was assaulted by a strangely pleasant scent... a combination of men's deodorant, old spice, and something she couldn't identify.
Something distinctly male.
It weirded her out a little since she couldn't place it.
Meg finally gathered enough courage to try moving, pulling herself upright... but then, her wheelchair was right in front of her nose. And before she could react, she was being lifted beneath the arms and pulled into the air.
Then she was roughly dropped into the seat.
"Starting today," he grunted, gripping the back of the bars and shoving her down the hall, "I've decided to be your bodyguard. That incident with the stairs was going too far. He really could have killed you doing that."
Meg swallowed, then leaned forward and pulled her sketch pad out from underneath the leather seat. She had been overjoyed to realize that real full-time wheelchairs had small, but very wide compartments beneath the butts. All she had to do was lift up the leather a bit to reveal it and grab what she needed.
Pulling her pen out as well, she scrawled down her thoughts and flipped the pad around, holding it above her head.
'What exactly did you do that made everyone go quiet?'
"None of your business," he snorted. "You'll probably find out later, anyway, so don't bug me. Just shut up and enjoy the ride, all right? I'm getting you away from the cafeteria, then heading back and grabbing us some chow. After we eat and classes start up again, if anyone still bothers you, tell me who they are."
Meg blinked, eyes widening in shock.
He's serious, she realized, blinking rapidly. He's really going to keep people from tormenting me...
There was a part of her, as reluctant as she was to admit this to herself, that wanted to abuse this power she suddenly had and get revenge on everyone. But she didn't feed into it, both because she couldn't abuse this opportunity for fear of losing it and she didn't want to take advantage of Mike in general.
Mostly because he was now among the top ten people who were occasionally kind of nice to her.