How to Kill a Man in Thirty Seconds

Chapter 47: Pressing the Wrong Buttons

I was dazed even as we left the courthouse. The sound of Mary Clark's desperate pleading and sobbing as the officers dragged her out, still rang in my ears.

"Charley?" The sudden sight of Morgan Walker brought me to reality with a start.

Our last encounter flashed through my mind and I instinctively took a step backwards.

"Charley, is everything okay?" Adrian's concerned and bewildered voice sounded as he stepped forward to stand beside me, suspiciously eyeing the stranger before him.

Morgan's pale blue eyes moved instantly to the boy, and his eyes narrowed just infinitesimally before something-something I couldn't quite discern- flickered through them. His gaze rushed to me, and then back to Adrian. I thought I almost saw him stiffen.

"Name's Morgan," he said suddenly. He held his hand out with a honeyed smile at Adrian.

The name caused Adrian's eyes to flare with recognition. His jaw locked, and emotion drained from his eyes as he glared at the man.

The look Morgan was giving him filled me with unease. I suddenly wanted to hide Adrian so he would be left out of this. I felt my hand reach for Adrian's arm, and I felt my grip on it tighten.

"Let's go," I told him, before I tugged him away, leaving Morgan with his hand outstretched, staring after us in silence.

Adrian didn't turn up to school the next day. He didn't answer my phone calls or reply to any texts. It was almost like he just disappeared.

The halls filled with whispers as I passed through, pitiful glances passed my way. The news had spread like wildfire. The story about my father's emotional harassment of Amanda had morphed into a tale about physical abuse. He had turned from victim to perpetrator. In their eyes, he had got what he deserved.

But what hurt me the most was when Brian and Oliver didn't believe me either.

"Charley, we know it's upsetting, but the case has been closed. We know the truth. You can stop now," Oliver had said. Somehow, that had felt like a slap across the cheek. I had stormed away.

School had ended by the time Mason found me. He was leaning against the wall, barely a foot away as I opened my locker. He watched me in silence, a smirk dancing on his lips.

I ignored him.

"How does it feel?" he suddenly said out loud.

I gritted my teeth, gathering all of the self-control I could muster, as I said nothing. But Mason was unrelenting.

He leaned forward, his lips bare inches from my ear as he whispered, "How does it feel, Charley, to know your father liked to fuck women besides your mother?"

The question hit me like a fifty tonne truck. Something within me twisted and left me, drained out of me in an instant, leaving me with a sudden feeling of emptiness. I screwed my eyes shut against the sudden rush of tears, swallowing a burn against the pit of my throat.

Mason's smirk had widened when my eyes opened. He was watching me, clearly pleased with the reaction.

"So, mentally disabled, eh? Isn't it funny," his voice dripped with sweetness as he spoke, "that a man who spawned such a self-righteous bitch for a daughter, only put his cock between a woman's legs if she didn't know how to tell yes from no?" He chuckled low, his head tilting to the side, "Did you have any idea, Charley, that he had a fetish for 'em retarded ones?"

Something snapped in me. A deafening thud sounded as my locker door slammed shut, the sound echoing down the empty corridors. I turned on Mason, a sudden, overwhelming and uncontrollable fury filling me as my teeth grinded together. Tears pricked my eyes, except this time, they were tears of anger.