Hate me

Knox

“Have a nice nap?”

Confusion mars Ken Ruckman’s face when he opens his eyes and looks around the empty football field. 

He tries to move, but he won’t get very far.  

Given he’s handcuffed to the scoreboard. 

“What the fuck?” He struggles against the cuffs, but he’s still out of it so he doesn’t have much strength behind the movements. “What the hell are you doing, freak?”

Picking up my father’s police baton, I slap the end of it against my open palm. “I like to call it—giving you a taste of your own medicine.” 

The drowsiness from all the Thorazine I slipped into his water bottle before school ended makes his words slur. I thought about slipping him a roofie like they did to Aspen, but I want him to remember every moment of this. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Halting my movements, I inspect the baton. “I heard you had a little fun with my stepsister this weekend.” 

He snorts. “More like she had a little fun with me, if you know what I mean—”

I thump the side of his face with the baton, gri

“Why do you care?” he spits, his features twisting in pain. “Everyone knows you hate Aspen. Hell, if anything, I did you a favor, freak.” 

Leaning down, I get close to his face. “I don’t need your favors.” 

The confusion is back on his face. “Okay. Duly noted. I still don’t get why you’re defending her.”

I bitch smack his other cheek with my open palm, because someone like him doesn’t deserve my fists. 

“I heard you got into Notre Dame.”

He quirks up a brow. “Yeah…yeah, I did. But what the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

A shrill howl cuts through the air when I bash the baton against his right knee, enjoying the crack it makes. 

“Congrats, man. It’s a shame you won’t be playing football for them.” 

Or anyone else. 

A tremble runs through his large frame. “I’m sorry, Knox. Is that what you want to hear?” 

Nah. It’s too late to apologize. 

What’s done is done. 

“Please,” he begs when I raise the baton above my head again. “I’ll do anything you want, Knox. Anything.” 

I pause, deciding to have a little fun with him. 

“Anything?” 

He nods emphatically. “Anything, man. Just don’t end my career over some bitch that neither of us like.” 

I sigh. “I mean, you’ll be off the field for a while, but I only hit you once in your right knee so chances are good that you’ll make a full recovery.” 

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Yeah.” 

“But since you’re offering to give me whatever I want…I should probably take you up on it, huh?” Stepping between his legs, I stroke my chin. “Decisions, decisions.”  

He swallows thickly. “Whatever it is, I got you.” He starts rattling off a stream of suggestions. “Need me to fuck someone up for you? I’ll do it. Want me to wash your jeep? I’ll make it happen. Buy you lunch every day for the rest of the year? You got it, bro. Hell, I’ll even rub your feet—”

“I want you to suck my dick.” 

Disgust twists his features. “What the fuck? I’m not a faggot.” 

I hold his stare. “Why not? It’s the same thing you made Aspen do to you after those bitches drugged her.” Shrugging, I motion to the baton. “But since you refuse, I’ll just have to finish what I started.” 

He eyes me warily. “Okay.” 

I cup my ear. “What’s that?” 

Deflated, he drops his head. “I’ll do it.”

Undoing my zipper with my free hand, I move closer. “You go

He looks like he’s about to gag. “Jesus.”

“Are you?” I bite out, taking my cock out of my pants. 

His eyes snap shut. “Whatever you want.” 

I take out my phone and press the record button. “You’re go

When he doesn’t answer, I grab the back of his head. “Tell me how much you’re go

“I’m go

“Open,” I instruct. 

Begrudgingly, his mouth parts. 

“God, Ken,” I grind out, stepping closer. “Who knew you were such a whore?”

Shooting him a malicious grin, I unleash a stream of urine into his mouth. 

He sputters and gags before dry heaving. 

And that’s when I whack the baton against his other knee over and over, crushing it until it’s nothing but a flab of loose skin. 

I clasp his chin, forcing him to look at me through his tear-filled eyes and wet face. “If anyone asks, you were jumped by two men wearing ski masks, so you couldn’t see their faces.” 

“Fuck you,” he seethes. “I’m telling the police it was you.” 

“And I’ll make sure my dad—Aspen’s stepfather and a member of the FBI—knows what you did to her.” Motioning to my phone, I shoot him an icy glare.  “I’ll also release the video I took. The one that makes it look like you were the cocksucker this time.” 

I pat his cheek. “You might not have a football career now, but you can still have your reputation. Not to mention, I’ve just saved you the embarrassment of trying to make it into the NFL and not being successful—which let’s face it, was bound to happen. Now people will look at you with pity and think of you as a could have been, instead of a failure. However, if you tell anyone the truth…you’ll just be a loser who enjoys sucking cock in his spare time and got his ass kicked for taking advantage of someone’s sister.” 

I can see I’ve made my point when he bows his head. “Fine.” 

Whistling, I hike the baton over my shoulder and start walking down the field. 

“Oh, and Ken?” I call out. 

He narrows his eyes. “What?” 

“To answer your question from earlier, you don’t get to fuck with Aspen because she’s mine.” 

Which means the only one who gets to hurt her is me.

The next day news of Ken’s unfortunate accident with the two men who jumped him while he was working out on the football field last night has spread through school like wildfire. 

Now there’s just one more thing left for me to handle so I can restore order. 

I find Staci and Traci standing at their lockers after lunch. 

Gritting my teeth, I stride over to them. 

No doubt bewildered by my presence; they exchange an inquisitive glance. 

“Can we help you with something?” Traci questions. 

Leaning against a locker, I cross my arms. “I heard you two were the ones behind the video.” 

Staci bats her eyelashes i

Traci shares a grin with her friend. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Too bad,” I say dismissively as I turn to walk away. “I thought it was pretty badass, but if it wasn’t you—”

“Wait,” Staci chirps. 

Traci’s voice drops to a whisper. “It was us.” 

Staci giggles. “I mean, obviously. I posted it on my Instagram story.” 

“Knox doesn’t have Instagram,” Traci informs her with a crinkle of her nose. “He’s too cool for it.” 

I take out my phone, making it appear like I can’t be bothered with this conversation any longer because I know it will only entice them into my web that much more. 

“Duces. I gotta go take care of some shit.” 

“Hold on,” Staci utters. 

“For what?” 

She exchanges a nervous glance with Traci before she speaks. “It’s just…you never come over and talk to us.”