11. Nyssa

11

NYSSA

FIRE OF LOVE - JESSE JO STARK

"You look sexy as fuck," Macey says when she sees me in my costume. She's seated on my bed, already wearing hers. Slutty police officer complete with thigh high boots and a garter belt. Her shiny patent leather police cap leans lopsided on her head, though she doesn't seem to care. She's nibbling on a piece of licorice as I stroll out of the closet and twirl around for her full assessment. "I didn't think you had it in you, Oliver."

"Had what in me?" I ask, stepping toward my floor length mirror.

"The whole slutty Halloween costume thing. It seems so… beneath you."

That's because it is.

…but I also know the rules of the game.

I uncap the top of my lip gloss, carefully applying a shiny coat to my lips. "It's Halloween, Macey. You're overthinking things. Everyone dresses like this for Halloween."

"Since when are you everyone?"

"You're one to talk, Miss Supermodel."

She laughs, her string of licorice dangling from between her teeth. "Really? Because supermodels are known to be classy."

"Are you saying I'm classy?" I smirk at her from over the tip of my shoulder.

"I'm saying…" she pauses to choose her words carefully. "Don't take this the wrong way, Nyssie. But I'm saying you've got a stick up your ass sometimes. Even by Heather's standards. And she's Queen Stick Up The Ass. Maybe that's why you're best friends."

Are we?

"Heather's best friend is Katelyn. Haven't they known each other the longest?"

Macey snorts again as if I've told a joke, then lays back on my bed to busy herself with her phone.

"What's up between them anyway?" I ask. "Heather's been icing out Katie."

"Damned if I know. I've got my own shit going on. You know my pill-popping mother's threatening to divorce my father? Like she's going anywhere. He'll just cut off the credit cards."

As is so often the case in this world, around these people, I pretend I'm listening. Really, I'm studying my outfit and making sure my hair and makeup are on point.

I'm thinking about what's to come tonight at this party.

It's the annual Halloween party the fraternity throws at their house. Every year they do, some kind of scandal emerges. An almost fatal case of alcohol poisoning or a drug overdose. Some poor girl making date rape allegations. Some younger fraternity brother coming forward about extreme hazing and violence.

This is my third year at Castlebury, yet it's the first year I'll be attending. I wouldn't if I didn't think I could work the situation to my advantage .

Make my next strategic move.

I screw back on the cap to my lip gloss and take one last look at myself.

Macey's right—I've gone the thotty route. My legs look long and shapely, my plaid mini skirt several inches shorter than I like. The same can be said for the tight button-up shirt I'm wearing that emphasizes my bust and the suspenders that only draw attention to the area. I've got a pair of what the costume store called ‘nerdy' glasses on and platform Maryjane heels that give me five extra inches.

I make for a convincing naughty schoolgirl.

There's a honk outside my apartment's bedroom window. Macey scrambles over first.

"It's Claude! Ready?"

"Ready," I answer, nodding. Though my insides churn like I'm onboard a ship at sea.

I follow Macey downstairs. Along the way, she turns back toward me to check if I'm really okay.

"You know Claude's cool with Lucas, right?"

"Why would I care?"

"Lucas and Samson are practically brothers."

I shrug, pretending I'm distracted by my reflection in the elevator's chrome finish. Macey gets the hint and drops the subject altogether.

Claude greets both of us with a mellow, raspy toned, "What's up?"

Mom messages me as I'm buckling my seatbelt in the back row of his Jeep Wrangler. She means well, but sometimes I have to remind her I'm fine on my own. I don't need her worrying about me.

I'll call you tomorrow.

For a second I even consider turning off my phone, or at least my geotag location, then I decide against it.

I've thought about tonight from every possible angle. Now's not the time to start throwing myself off.

Claude blasts his headache-inducing party jams playlist off Spotify that he seems so proud of, grinning broadly at us as we fly down the city streets. By Macey's non-reaction, she's used to his manic driving.

Me, not so much.

I grip the overhead handle and remind myself to order an Uber on my way home later tonight.

Assuming everything goes according to plan.

We arrive outside the frat house with screeching brakes, drawing jeers from the guys gathered on the front lawn.

Great. A whole audience to watch us.

I blow out a breath and open the back door. Macey's doing the same from the front of the Jeep. She immediately links arms with me as if in solidarity. Two girls arriving on the scene in scantily clad skirts to the shiny-eyed leers from the frat brothers nearby.

We're not the only ones. Another group of giggly girls in barely there costumes teeter down the sidewalk in sky-high heels, also with arms linked.

As we head toward the open doorway of the large red brick house, we're granted a preview of the crowds donning their own costumes from pirates to zombies and devils.

But one thing there's no shortage of is the skintight ensembles almost all the girls are wearing .

I blend in perfectly—and maybe that's what also makes me stick out like a sore thumb.

My hands itch to pull my skirt further down my thighs and anxiety expands in my chest like a balloon the deeper into the crowd we make it.

But I never slip up. I keep my mask on, smiling and nodding my head to the music thumping from the stereos.

We push our way through the entrance hall. Macey's scanning the area for anyone we know. Katelyn sees us first and beelines over, her face sparkling from the shimmery makeup she's put on. She's done her best to look as mermaid-esque as possible in a seashell bralette and a sequined skirt that hugs her wider hips.

"Macey, you came!" She gives Macey a quick hug before turning to me. "Nyssie, I didn't know you were coming out tonight. You usually never come to stuff like this."

"I dragged her out," Macey laughs, linking our arms again.

"Does, um, Heather know you're here?"

I act as if I'm more interested in the music and party scene around us, barely looking in Katelyn's direction as I wave distantly at someone else I know.

"Does it matter if I am?"

"Yes… no… I mean… excuse me."

She bustles off as quickly as she's approached us, swallowed up by the others. I finally turn to Macey.

"What was that about?"

Macey's hardly noticed. "I couldn't tell you. You know how Katie gets."

But I'm already aware of why Katelyn reacted the way she did. It's the sole reason I decided to come out tonight when I'd rather be home. I'd prefer to be spending Halloween night in the warm comfort of my apartment, working on my next art project and watching movies. An evening that would be much more enjoyable than freezing my ass off in this skimpy schoolgirl outfit.

"Let's dance," Macey calls out.

The thumping music has only grown louder in the last fifteen minutes since we arrived. She tugs on my arm 'til I'm staggering alongside her toward the massive horde gathered in the living room of the fraternity house.

It's full of Castlebury students dancing and grinding, even making out with whatever person they've latched onto. I'm surrounded by sweaty writhing bodies on either side, practically shoved by the crowd if I don't move along with them.

Macey joins in, shaking her hips and screaming when the next song that comes on happens to be one of her favorites.

Halfway through, we're both grabbed by frat brothers looking to dance. Macey goes along with it while I shrug out of the arm that's been slung over my shoulder.

"No thanks," I say, offering a consolatory smile.

He simply rolls his eyes and moves onto the next tipsy college girl willing to entertain him.

I'm able to slip away through a crack in the crowd, grateful for the opening as I make my escape into another hall. The earthy musk of marijuana tickles my nose, a light haze of smoke lingering in the cramped space, but I plunge on 'til I'm able to make it far enough away that the party feels like an afterthought.

Only thirty minutes and I already feel like I'm drowning.

It's just another reminder why I've never been big on the college party scene.

I've always felt… out of place. Too cognizant of what go es on, like I'm witnessing people who aren't my peers but people I know better than.

Maybe I do.

Maybe I am the old soul Heather and Macey always jokingly say I am. I'm the one who's here from the past to hold them accountable. I'm the one who's going to make them pay for what they've done to me.

Us.

I set off through the noisy, humid frat house, on a mission. My vision tunnels 'til the finish line is all I see. Everything else in the vicinity becomes a blurred non-factor.

None of it matters so long as I haven't held them accountable.

A shot of adrenaline flows through me as I stop by a drunken Lucas Cummings on the foot of the stairs. He's swaying in place, clutching a red plastic cup, barely able to keep his hazy eyes open. He clearly gave up on his costume a long time ago, his ghost face mask shoved up over his head of unruly curls.

"Have you seen Samson?"

"Hey, Nyssa," he slurs. "Wazzup?"

"Samson? Where is he?"

"Up… bur - burrpp…" he belches, reeking of beer and weed, then tries again. "Upstairs."

I don't bother with a thank you , rushing past him on my way up the stairs. Lucas shouts more garbled words after me. None of which I bother trying to decipher.

The second floor landing is more chaotic than the first. People in all sorts of costumes press themselves against the wall in the middle of heavy groping and making out, like they have no concept of privacy, or simply don't care for any .

Others loiter in the space, chatting, smoking, even on the verge of a fistfight as two guys shove at each other.

I start twisting doorknobs, one door after the other in a long line that stretches on down the hall. Some are locked while others open to reveal more partying, more indiscretions going on. In the bathroom, a girl I recognize as Hannah Fochte kneels before a toilet puking her guts out. A threesome's happening in the bedroom on the left.

I keep going until I come up on the last door and push it open to find exactly what I'm looking for.

Heather and Samson jump apart as soon as the door flings open and they realize they're no longer alone. Samson scrubs a hand over his face, squinting in the same kind of inebriated confusion as Lucas. Heather shrieks and turns away to fix the top portion of her sparkly dress.

She's dressed up as Barbie.

Something that makes me laugh in the moment. The dark sound comes out of me with a shake of my head and curl of my lip.

"Just as I thought," I say. "So how long has this been going on? How long have you been fucking my best friend, Samson? How long have you been fucking him, Heather? Did you really think I wouldn't put two and two together? All the texting you've been doing? All the times you said you were meeting someone special? The secrecy and weird behavior?"

Heather's strawberry blonde locks hang more disheveled than usual. She swats hair out of her face as she says, "Nyssie, you've got no idea what you're?—"

"Shut up," I snap. "I don't want to hear shit from you. Either of you. It's all over. For real this time."

"Nyssie!"

"Hang on! "

I rush out of the room as abruptly as I arrived. Their voices fade among the dozens of others, drowned out by the laughter, chatter, and most of all, the blaring music. I've never regretted a pair of heels more as I strut down the hall and then the stairs.

"Nyssa, slow the fuck down!"

I speed up, zigzagging down the obstacle course of a hallway that's the ground floor. Vaguely, I'm aware it's Samson coming up behind me.

Not that it matters—I don't want to hear anything he has to say. Tonight was simply about exposing him and Heather for what they are. The same selfish, cruel, fucked up people they've always been.

It runs in their families.

Now, I get the chance to use their betrayals to my advantage in my own special way.

I make it outside in a cool rush of air and several catcalls from fraternity guys still hanging out on the lawn. I have no idea where I'm headed except anywhere but here. Anywhere but the frat house that reeks of booze, vibrates with music deafening enough to give you a headache, and full of some of the most treacherous people I've ever met in my life.

"Nyssa, where do you think you're going?!"

"Stay away from me, Samson!" I yell from over my shoulder, crossing the barren street. Trees and bushes make up the opposite side, eventually leading into the largest courtyard of the university. Otherwise known as the quickest way to escape the fraternity.

If only Samson took a hint and gave up.

As I cross the street, he jogs after me, more determined than ever. It takes him seconds to reach me as I navigate the grassy terrain in my heels. His sausage-like fingers clench shut on my upper arm, spinning me to face him.

"Samson, what the fuck!?"

"I'm talking to you!"

"I don't want to talk to you!" I shout, my voice louder than his. "All I wanted was proof. I wanted to know for sure what I thought was going on was going on. I know that now. So get the hell away from me."

"Not 'til I've… hic… 'til I've said what I want…" he rumbles between drunken hiccups. His grip tightens on my arm and he bows closer, his breath hot and putrid. "You walked out on me… 'member that?"

"Cut the shit! You've been messing around since before we broke up!"

"Yeah? So what? You didn't put out!"

"Don't touch me!" I scream, squirming in his hold to free myself.

"Look… things've been rough. Heather's been there."

"And I haven't?"

"You know… hic… they're kicking me off the team? Some drug test… hic… bullshit. You even care?"

I wrench my arm from him and start walking, trying to change course from the pine trees nearby. "If you expect me to forgive you for cheating because you failed a drug test, you're an even bigger ass than I thought you were."

"Don't walk away from me!"

"We're done, Samson! What else is there to say?"

"I'm not done!" He seizes hold of me again, his grip viselike and inescapable. "You gonna finally… hic… put out? I never… hic… got to fuck you."

"Samson, fucking let go of me! You're drunk!"

"How's that fair?" he slurs, wrapping his arms around me until I'm locked in a bearhug .

Immediately, I go into defense mode, stamping on his foot and kneeing him in the groin. Both hits land, earning deep, infuriated groans of pain out of him.

But he doesn't let me go—he grips me tighter as I struggle harder. We tip over, falling into a grassy ditch under one of the many trees.

It's the first time real panic infects my lungs. My brain. My entire being as I scream into the night and punch and kick at any part of him I can. The odds are stacked against me as soon as we're on the ground, the moment feeling insurmountable.

My wrists are no match for his large, sweaty hands as he pins me down and climbs on top of me.

"SAMSON, STOP!" I cry out as if it'll make any difference at all.

He doesn't care. He's grinning crudely as he wedges a knee between my thighs to part them, my plaid skirt having ridden up.

"One… hic… one fuck for the road," he slurs, then laughs. "You know you owe me."

He sits up on his knees long enough for his free hand to fumble with the zipper of his jeans.

I'm still writhing in a wave of panic when it happens.

Samson's unfastened his jeans and pulled his dick out. His grin widens, and he moves to lean back over me.

Someone comes up from behind before he ever gets the chance. They're clutching a giant rock they must've picked up off the ground.

A giant rock they use to bash Samson over the head hard enough there's a crack sound, and then another and another. His skull splitting open.

Samson loses consciousness at once, collapsing half on top of me .

Shock freezes me to the bone. I'm left paralyzed and speechless, heart beating faster than it ever has before, as I blink up into the deep shadows of the grassy area.

Familiar eyes stare down at me—dark and forbidden like a mystery that'll never be solved. Eyes that belong to none other than Professor Adler, the rock-turned-attempted-murder-weapon dripping blood as it hangs at his side.