One Small Thing(82)

I’m surprised at his honesty. “What pills?”

“Just some oxy. No biggie.”

“Obviously it was big enough for you to go to rehab.” I frown at him. “Why did you beat up that poor kid? What did he ever do to you?”

“He got in my face about Rachel, about how I was partly responsible for her death.”

My pulse quickens. “How so?”

“We were fighting, but I think you suspected that.” Jeff rummages in the box and pulls out a hairbrush. It’s light brown, with blond strands in it. Rachel’s hairbrush.

He kept it all these years? I wonder what else he has in the box. I creep closer. “What were you fighting about?”

He slaps the brush against his hand. “I don’t really remember. It’s been a long time. Plus, remembering is painful.”

He tosses the hairbrush aside and pulls out a T-shirt. I can tell by the color that it’s a Darling High shirt. Is that Rachel’s, too? I move even closer, until I’m only a foot or two from the table.

“I stuffed this all away because I didn’t want to think about her, but I think that’s wrong. We should think about her. Like, would Rachel want you to hang out with the guy who killed her? I don’t think so.” His hand whips out so fast I don’t see it coming.

He grabs my wrist and twists it painfully. I yelp and then fall to my knees. He’s on top of me in the next minute, pushing me onto my back.

“Get off me!” I yell.

“What is it about Donnelly that you like so much? That it’s wrong? You sick up here?” Jeff taps me on the forehead. His eyes are wild and blazing, his jaw tighter than a drum.

I struggle underneath him. “Let me go, asshole.”

“Girls like you need to start listening to guys like me or you’re going to get hurt. I know you don’t want to get hurt.” He grabs both of my wrists in one hand and stretches my arms above my head.

I turn my face and try to bite his arm, but he moves it out of the way. I’ve never felt so helpless. Jeff is six inches taller than me and outweighs me by fifty pounds. He’s using every ounce to subdue me.

My heart beats wildly against my chest. “Wh-what are you doing?” I stammer. “Let me go.”

“Not until you listen to me.” He lowers his face to mine, as if to kiss me.

I wrench my head to the side, and this time I’m not stuttering. “Get off of me, you fucker!”

He claps a hand over my mouth. I bite it. He curses but doesn’t remove it.

“Listen to me,” he insists. “Calm down and listen to me.”

I can’t breathe. His body is weighing me down, squashing the air from my lungs. A mélange of thoughts race through my head. This is Jeff. My sister’s boyfriend. His mom’s upstairs. He’s dating my best friend.

He’s hurting me. He’s hurting me.

I buck up again.

“This is what that Donnelly kid is going to do to you, Beth, if you don’t stop hanging around him.”

A hand fumbles between us, grappling for the waistband of my pants. I twist enough to make him lose his grip, but he’s back again.

“You’re the only one who’s hurting me, Jeff.” I pant. “Stop it.” I try to reason with him. “This isn’t what Rachel would want.”

He laughs. “How do you know? How do you know what she wanted? Did you listen to her? No. It was me who listened to her. I held her hand and dried her tears. I was the one who helped her study, drove her to practice, picked out her clothes, read her texts, listened to her phone calls. And for what? For her to tell me I was being possessive? And awful? Oh no.” He tears at my shirt. “I didn’t put in all that time with her for her to break up with me! Do you hear me?” He’s shouting now. Spit is coming out of his mouth.

I jerk my hands upward, breaking his hold. I scratch at his face and try to wriggle free. When he grabs for my hands again, I roll over, stuffing my arms under my body. He laughs again. It’s a terrible sound.

“You want it like this? You want it like a dog?” His hand lands on my butt.

Oh fuck, this is a mistake. I try to roll over again, but he lies flat on top of me.

And then the door opens.

We both freeze and look up to see Mrs. Corsen at the door. She has a tray filled with drinks in her hands. Somehow, it doesn’t drop to the floor. But her jaw does.

“Mrs. Corsen!” I cry. “Help me. Your son is hurting me.”

“Wh-what?” she stutters in shock.

“That’s not true!” Jeff exclaims at the same time.

His moment of panic is all I need to throw him off me and start running. Past Mrs. Corsen. Up the stairs. Out the door. Down the long drive. I stumble on something. My shoe falls off.

It’s dark out and I can barely see the street because of my tears.

I keep running.

This is how Rachel felt. I know it. That night, she was trying to escape Jeff. She might’ve been crying. I swipe a hand across my face and stagger forward, the tears still obstructing my vision.

I hear the screech of brakes.

Honk!

I look up to see a pair of headlights headed straight for me.





32

Before I can react, a big object slams into my side, pushing me out of the road. I land hard on the sidewalk, the wind completely knocked out of me.