She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part VIII)

Disclaimer

This is post is one of many in a several part webseries.  While each part varies, this story, overall, will contain the following; Strong Language, Sexual Content, Graphic and Violent descriptions and it may not be suitable for a younger audience.

It does not reflect the views or opinions of the author and is purely a work of fiction.  All names and locations are drawn directly from the author’s imagination.  No animals were ever hurt in the writing of this webseries.  ;p

If this isn’t your cup of tea but you enjoy my other writings, please visit back time to time and let me know!  I’ll be making the occasional post between these mini-chapters as, I think of them.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.  You’ve got to be fucking KIDDING me!”

His bike rocked to the right and left as he madly propelled himself forward, blasting through intersections without any fear of what could happen.  He had at first been shocked that she would propose such a thing to him, but that feeling had quickly changed into seething outrage.

“Lucy Winters?  REALLY?!”

He didn’t care when people turned to cast the odd glance his way, for as far as he was concerned, nobody else existed at that moment.  The wind whipped his hair backward from around his face and combination of it and the dry heat began to remove the some of the moisture from it.  

Though he didn’t realize it at the time, he had begun to grind his teeth together, gnashing them mercilessly back and forth.  His mouth was clamped so tightly that his gums would later be sore for most of the night. 

His legs pumped downward vigorously without any sign of tiring.  His speed was fueled by the unbridled rage now spreading through his system with every beat of his cracked heart.  He felt betrayed.  For the second time since he had joined All Saints High, he had allowed her into his heart.  For the second time, he found himself being set up into one of her cruel games.

“Fat fucking Lucy Winters,” he screamed.  His voice spiraled upward, cracking on the last word of his outburst.  

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the approaching pickup from behind him.  It came in fast, roaring across the pavement, a two ton avalanche of steel and rubber.  By the time that he realized what was happening, it was too late.

Tommy’s light brown Chevy blasted around him, missing him by mere inches.  The driver slammed on the brakes, angling the truck in front of him, too close for him to stop in time.  Even though Scott slammed on his own brakes, the worn bike tires only continued to pull him forward as they skidded on the asphalt.

His reckless speed was instantly stopped as the front tired slammed into the side of the truck.  The effect couldn’t have been more devastating.  While the bike had stopped, his body continued forward and he slammed face first into the door before sliding to the ground.  

“Holy SHIT Tommy!  You KILLED him,” a male voice shouted from somewhere far away.

He lay stunned on the ground, his vision blurring and the sounds around him warbling in his ears.  The driver’s side door opened above him and out steps his tormentor, who then places his feet on either side of him before leaning down.  It was a scene too much like the previous morning and he instinctively cringed.

What he couldn’t see, however, was the genuine look of concern on the bully’s face.

“Naw, I don’t think so.  He’s still moving,” he said over his shoulder.  Then, to him; “Scott, are you alright?”

He reached down and tried to help him up, but what Tommy didn’t know…

 

…was that Scott’s old friend had come fully to the surface.

His face twisted in pain and rage as the jock’s hands slid under his shoulders.  He was trying to help him to sit up, but he hadn’t lifted him more than a couple inches before Scott suddenly lunged forward.  His forehead slammed into Tommy’s nose, smashing it with a sickening, yet satisfying, crunch.  Tommy immediately released him as his hands shot to his face.

“My thucking nothe!  He boke my thucking nothe,” Tommy shouted.

“I’m gonna do more than that, you sorry sack of crap,” Scott’s friend said through his lips.  He pulled himself up using the siderail beneath the door and smiled as he spied something behind the seat.  As he reached in and closed his right hand around one end of the object, he kicked out with his right leg.  His foot connected with the already crouching Tommy, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him sprawling onto the ground.

From the passenger side of the truck, B.J. looked down at him with something like a mixture of shock and fear.  His mouth hung open, forming a large ‘O’, and he didn’t seem to be moving anytime soon.  It didn’t matter.  Scott’s old friend had complete control of him at this point, and he had only one thing on his mind.

Moving quicker than either of the two would have believed possible, considering what had just happened to him, Scott yanked himself up into a crouch of his own.  Now it was he who was leaning over a prostrate Tommy, but there would be no-one to stop HIM from what he was about to do.  

He looked down at the injured boy inquisitively, studying every detail about him.

“Wat awe you goin do,” Tommy asked.

“I’m going to finish what I started.” 

He began to rain blow after blow down upon the head and shoulders of his helpless victim.  Everything the crowbar connected became more and more like pulp and it…

 

…was that his shoulder had been dislocated from the angle of his fall.  He yelled out in surprise and pain as Tommy tried to help him to a sitting position.  

“I got it,” he growled, pushing him away.

“Look asshole, I’m just trying to help you.”

“Yeah?  Since when?”

B.J. snickered from inside the pickup.  He had crawled over from the passenger seat and now looked down at him from above.

“Just shut up and take my hand, alright.  We need to get that taken care of,” he answered while motioning to Scott’s injured shoulder with his eyes.

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