High Life | ✔️

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THIS IS GOING to sound evil, but I loved what was happening.

Whether it stemmed from an unconscious desire to feel superior, or plain inability to empathize with a certain archetype of males - it was undetermined.

Alex, Marc and a few of the others were ready with the duct tape. Starting at the shins, they made their way up past his stomach, many hands surprisingly nimble as they wove Patrick into a cocoon. Patrick's piercing 'what the fucks' and 'I'll call the cops' were greeted with laughter and hefty catchphrases.

The rip of duct tape unfurling seemed to fill every inch of the assembly hall. Empty seats and seemingly frowning portraits of our school's founders added an ominous aftertaste in the back of our throats. But we'd sprayed the CCTVs, there was no going back now.

And then Patrick's threats lost traction, turning into meaningless, choking pleas for mercy.

If only his teammates were here to witness this moment. Central High had its rules, laws, hierarchy, and food chain. Patrick may be 'king' or whatever, but he was at the mercy of our hands right now. That was all that mattered.

It took less time than expected. Marc's teeth bit down, severing the roll of tape from its winding tail. Patrick was now strapped, immobile against the flagpole. Patches of dust rubbed off on his football jersey. He was a strong person, we feared the worst for the flagpole.

But five minutes of observing Patrick struggle made us realize he was as futile as an insect caught in a web.

"Yeah, that's it," Marc announced, addressing Patrick directly now. "You can struggle all you want."

A frenzy of similar statements arose from his cronies as they fed off each other. "Believe it or not we're about to do you a real favor."

I just hid behind Marc, waiting for my turn to speak.

"We know what you did, and it was a dick move," Marc announced to Patrick. "In case you were wondering what this is about."

Patrick must have guessed as much, launching into aggression: "You're a bunch of sick fucks! Let me go!"

Marc glanced at his watch. "I'm sure someone would find you tomorrow morning. You only have to wait for, hmm, 15 hours."

Patrick's eyes widened in realization. He changed tactics. "I - I'm sorry Andie. I... I was drunk. I was so young... Give me another chance, I'll make it up to you. I'll give you whatever you want. Please!"

"Well, it's just too late. The damage has already been done," I said with a bittersweet smile. "Not just damage to me. To the others."

Patrick whimpered. "Let me go, I'm sorry, okay?"

"Okay, got it," Marc sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight while shaking his head. "I'm sorry to insist that the only way to teach you pompous 'golden kids' a lesson is through retribution. We're just going to make of you an example to the rest of your friends. Hopefully our school would become a better place after this."

"Are you really going to leave me here for 15 hours? I have to get home - I have a sick grandmother..." Patrick pled, choking up variations of apologies.

Marc cut him off with a bark of laughter. "Leave you here? My dear Patrick, we're not even done with you."

A knowing chuckle was shared by all.

"Boys." I finally uttered the magic word.

The rest got to work, though the next part wasn't as easy as planned. Their tape job had been a solid one, efficiently exemplified, and getting to Patrick's jeans called for an almost brutal display of force.

Patrick screamed obscenities as Alex and Cole reached under, working against the adhesive. They tugged Patrick's jeans down, at which point Patrick must have realised what was about to transpire, as he let go of all punctuation.

Each shriek became a natural extension of the one before, not a breath taken anywhere between.

Patrick's trousers were yanked down around his ankles. The Superman boxers beneath would have been enough to embarrass anyone, but this situation required something beyond the whole nine yards.

Something damaging.

Alex sent his boxers down to join his jeans. And Patrick's screams cut out all at once. One last dying echo was heard by the in-zone. Patrick was exposed, no way around it, though the rest did all they could to make sure he knew it. Pointing and laughing, doubled over in exaggerated delight, it was open house on Patrick's genitalia.

"I've seen bigger dicks on four year olds," Alex exclaimed.

"Pedophile," Marc coughed out.

Patrick said something, something that got lost in the raucous laughter of my friends.

"Wait," Marc held up a hand, effectively shutting everyone up. "Patricia said something. What was that, little girl?" Marc leaned closer, cupping a hand over his ears.

"You - You have no right to do this to me." Patrick said weakly.

I extended my arm towards Alex.

Alex complied instantly, moved with swift motions to hand me his iPhone.

"We're going to take a little picture now, Patrick." I took a few steps back, positioning myself. "You don't have to smile or anything, just be yourself."

Patrick's began thrashing against the duct tape, and I almost took a cautious step back. The fear was still there, the terror. But upon hold: a pitch-perfect rage that seemed to radiate from Patrick in toxic waves. It was pure hatred. A dark plague that couldn't possibly be coming from the same pathetic creature apologized so fervently moments ago. And now, his voice barely trembled under the weight of his own fury.

"I'll make you pay," Patrick said. It was a menacing voice. One that would have been taken seriously if the owner wasn't taped to the point of immobility.

Marc shrugged. "Careful what you threaten, little girl. Might just email a copy of that picture to your sick grandmother."

All at once, I could sense my resolve weaken. And somehow, the same uneasy relapse poisoned the entire crowd of us.

But I brushed it off.

"You can of course try to make me pay," I said to Patrick, in a gentler voice, but not necessarily one with a less malicious undertone. "I'll be leaving town tonight. So... try your best to take your revenge before my 7pm flight, okay?"

Patrick's face regressed into its previous incarnation as the others returned to the fundamentals. Cocky smirks, giggles, unchecked swagger. Hyperactive taunts brought comatose tears to Patrick's eyes. It was a comical sight to behold, to come to think that even golden quarterbacks have the ability to cry.

"Alex," I called over my shoulder.

He walked over, grin painted with a fresh coat of excitement. I gave his iPhone back.

"Make as many copies as you need to. Make it viral if him or any of his friends misbehave."

Patrick shut his eyes again. His breathing began to slow, jaws working as though trying to summon an invisible, ultimately imaginary force within himself; a desperate comic book wish gone unanswered.

"I hope you take this time to properly think over what you did," I told Patrick. "It's going to be a long night, sleep tight."

I was the last person to leave his side.

-

A/N: okay so most of my chapters are unedited, there will be errors.

feel free to comment what you think of events in this book, it'll mean so much to me! VOTES WONT HURT EITHER ;)