Chapter One: Unimpended
Heather
I ran through the hallway, hating the heavy thuds of his footsteps as he raced after me, through the crowds of gawking students.
"Heather!" His thick voice called my name, yet I did not reply. He continued, both his screaming and his following. "Heather, please!"
I stopped at the accusing edge in his voice. Turning harshly, I stared him straight in the eye. "What do you want, Will?"
His brows drew together in an attempt at confusion, his face the picture of false innocence. "I love you, honey. I want you."
I barely held back a snort of undignified laughter. "You want me? It would appear from that scene in Mr. Lincoln's classroom that you want Marilyn's ministrations, more that you want to be my boyfriend."
His face flamed red, his eyes hopeless. "You . . . I . . . ." At my sarcastic nod, he began to bed, his hands rubbing my shoulders. "Please, honey, give me another chance. I love you so much!"
A circle of our fellow students was surrounding us, drawn by the spectacle Will was making of himself . . . and me.
I shoved his hands away, snapping, "You don't love me, you love the money in my parent's bank account."
He paled, grabbing my arm. "Is that what you think? that I'm lying about actually caring for you like I do?"
I tried to free my arm from the hard grip he had on it. My words came out as a whisper. "Let me go, Will."
His eyes were hard now, unflinching. "Answer me. Is that what you really think?"
I jerked my arm harder, but he did not yield. Fear built up in my nervous system until my voice was shaking and my lips quivering. "Will. You're scaring me. Let go."
An odd smile crossed his lean, face. He ducked his head, bringing it closer to me, his grip tightening further. "Answer me."
I sobbed, hating myself for being weak. "I'm not going to lie. We've been dating for one week, Will. Seven days. You can't love me already. And if you did, you wouldn't have even noticed Marilyn." As I went on, stating the reasons he could not want me, my anger returned, pushing away my panic, the tremors receding, and my tears subsiding. My voice stronger now, I continued, "No. You don't. And I do not love you, eith—."
Will had fisted his hand in my burnished hair, crushing my lips roughly beneath his, shoving me harshly back against a locker, my arm somehow caught at a haphazard angle behind me.
I tried to shove him off, but I was no match for his superior strength, especially in this awkward position.
Suddenly, Will pulled away, and grabbing my shirtfront, began slamming my petite frame up against the lockers at my back. Counting the times I was shoved roughly, dangerously against the edge, I was valiantly trying to rescue my arm from its vulnerable position. However, hitting the corner squarely, a searing pain flared up to my shoulder, and I screamed, even as Will was jerked away.
I dropped to my knees, staring in horror as my arm bent limply halfway between my elbow and wrist as I brought it to cradle against my chest. I could hear Will's cries and moans of pain, and finally his humiliated retching, but I could not draw my gaze from the swollen, and unnatural bend in my left forearm.
I heard a shocked exclamation as strong arms slid around me, lifting my battered body from the floor of the hallway. Pain erupted nearly a hundredfold upon being moved, and then I knew only the blackness that surrounded my conscious.