Content/trigger warning: This series contains bullying, homophobic language, and non-consensual sexual acts, but they are integral to the plot and character development so please take them in context.
Author's note: Thanks again to everyone who's gotten this far. The next chapter is where things really take a big leap forwards, so I hope you'll check it out!
JESSE
I'm back at the cove, still sitting and brooding. It's been a full week, and I'm still no closer to getting back at that asshole than before. I'm touchier than usual, more irritable with the little 'uns in particular, but day to day I've managed to keep my anger in check for the most part, keep hold of it struggling and spitting at arm's length. But I'm still on edge, still feel my need for revenge lurking restlessly underneath my every thought, my every action, and every so often it leaks out of me, sparking like a broken appliance.
I've been coming back here every every minute I can, guarding what was supposed to be my private sanctuary, in case that prick tries to come back and take over what's mine. I'm busy most of every day at the diner or minding the little 'uns, but when I can get here I check the area carefully. As far as I can tell no one's been around, which I guess is a small relief.
I still haven't come up with a plan to get back at the bastard, and damn if it ain't frustrating as all hell. Revenge is definitely easier said than done. I have to say my Bowie knife has gotten to feel pretty comfortable in my hand now, though, and I managed to clean it up pretty well. Turns out some vinegar and a scouring pad and a lot of elbow grease will do the trick. At first I was almost wishing he would show up so I could finally do some of the things I've been dreaming about. But no, he'd probably come with his giggling cheerleader girlfriend and his friends. I know I'm no match for him strength wise, but if I could surprise him I could get him spooked with my knife pretty well I expect. Maybe even draw a little blood. Carve my name in his face or his chest, or both... But I wouldn't be able to handle a group of them, that's for sure. I'm mad as heck, but I'm not an idiot.
Every day that passes just winds me up more and more. I got so riled up I even walked all the way to his house last night after my shift and sat outside in the damn bushes watching his room like a stalker. I heard some kids talking at the diner that the prick was working on some construction for his daddy, so maybe he's been too busy to find me and try to beat up on me again. Probably laughing and bragging to his girlfriend and his buddies about what he did to me. The thought of that really gets to me, sure, but his latest stunt, as over the top and humiliating as it was, is just another notch in his belt in a long line of them.
What bothers me more than that, and I hate to admit it, is how much truth there was in his sneering and his name calling. My dad is a worthless drunk. Our family is fucking trailer trash just scraping by, living on welfare food and charity. These past days looking around the trailer, catching a glimpse of my bruised face in the rusty metal of the trailer door, paint long gone, trying to figure out how to make a couple of bucks go as far as they can, I have to wonder how I ever thought any of it could change. He's an asshole, but he was right. I'm going to be stuck here forever. Somehow I'd thought smarts would get me somewhere, but how could they? Even if I somehow got a scholarship to somewhere, who would look after the little 'uns? I'm not going to abandon them the way my big brother ran off and left us behind. No, I think, as I stop and force myself for the thousandth time to stop from thinking poorly of Jimmy. He had his own demons he had to deal with, and it would've been worse for everyone if he'd stayed. Anyway, college was just a fool's dream, and the cold stark truth of that hurts more than the bloody nose and the bruises and the sore ribs, even his piss covering trailer trash me. That's what's kept me up every night all week, making me lash out, all that disappointment of all my idiotic dreams evaporating in the cold light of truth like morning dew. That's what's keeping me up, not his damn bullying. I can fucking take even the worst of that. With a sigh I think for the thousandth time that I suppose it's just as well that I'm facing it sooner than later, but damn does it still hurt, and damn if I'm not going to get back at him for it, as if he's the one to blame for my hopeless fate.
As for friends, so what if I don't have any. Why do I need friends? I don't have time for them anyway. And it's not like they would have any better ideas about what to do about getting back at that asshole. That's the damn thing that's the most frustrating, on top of everything else. How am I going to teach him a lesson. In a way I'm glad he went and took it too far. It gives me a reason to end this once and for all, one way or another.
Anyway, so last night there I am sitting in some damn bushes outside his house. Actually that asshole's house is more like a damn mansion. Used to be a state senator's house I heard from somewhere, or something like that. I'd never actually seen it up close. Big white columns on the front porch, manicured, landscaped lawn that looks perfect even in the height of a sweltering summer. What his daddy spends on lawn care in a week could feed my whole family for months I bet. It's a pretty far walk and pretty late by the time I get there, after 11, and even though there are lights around the house it's easy for me to keep to the shadows. The spot I found in the bushes in the back of the house gives me a good view of what I assume is his bedroom window, since I saw his daddy looking out the window of the other bedroom on that floor. Asshole junior's truck is there, but I don't see any sign of asshole junior himself. Maybe he's already asleep?
