BLOODY LIFE

d as a car passed by. My stomach dropped as the reality of me walking

as off work twe

y well until my professor slapped down that piece of paper with the bright red, glaring letter F on it. What was this, the third grade? What teacher still g

st buried my grandmother a week before our winter brea

er in the way I was, but she was practically my mother. Now

een mentally checked out for years. She had allowed alcohol to ruin

own’s Bar. Sometimes I wondered why she ever bothered coming home at all. I hated everythi

night when he was supposed to pick me up from working late at the c

David. I should’ve taken the offered ride from my boss. Now, I would have to walk close to three miles to get hom

it was late, at least that’s what I told myself. The truth was that I didn’t want to bother her because

king off the ending to this nightmare of a day would be good for my sanity. Perhaps tonight I’d be in a

hen I heard a loud whistle come from m

and his group of friends—I liked to call them his shadow

he last thing I needed was the most popular guy on ca

s car break down again or something?” Paul

’s sleek black BMW, and planted both hands on my hips. “Why don’t y

llowed by a laugh. He shifted his head back to Paul sitting right

rted to race as I felt the bad

the police would do any good. The guy approaching me, Paul Rice, his dad was the

back pocket. He smiled and twisted a strand of my long, brown hair bet

pped back and shoved my hand

asshole jocks! My five-foot-six height wasn’t going to be enough to int

nd there was no telling what they were going to do to taunt or bully me tonight. They knew I was out here alone, and

ie, we just want to get to know you a little better.” “You’ve known me since the first grade, you

k to the car and

e Jackson threw the car in park. He jumped out of the car and marched toward m

were now after me for something, and I

a strong hand clamp onto my shoulder. In less than a blink, Jackson forced my back to the fence that li

raspy voice. “You’re a book nerd, we get

e you on?” I said

es met mine again, “That’s none of your bu

in line to sign up at the martial arts class for self-defense. My fight or fligh

t of my mind and that my body wouldn’t react appropria

pen. I gained some strength and wedged my arms in between us. As hard as I pushed

ction caused Jackson to turn, and I used it to my advantage. I brought my knee up, but

I heard the loud motorcycle screech to a halt. “Get