Seriously, what the hell is going on?
I’d already be demanding answers from everyone, if not for my concern over Aria. She looks shitfaced, her movements slow and clumsy as Reed sets her into the backseat of Jase’s car.
Still, she keeps shaking her head. “There’s no point. Trent didn’t do anything.”
This only serves to piss off Reed further, because his whole body vibrates with anger. He’s not the kind to raise his voice, but the alternative is somehow more terrifying. His register drops so low that he may as well be growling. Hell, it’s so low that none of us but Aria can make out what he says.
She shakes her head again. “No, I mean, he didn’t getthatfar. There won’t be evidence of anything.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“Just a cup of whatever Sienna handed me.”
Reed drags a hand over his face, clenching his jaw so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t cracked half his molars. “Yeah, I’d say a toxicology screening will be more than enough evidence.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Dash mutters. When everyone looks at him, obviously confused, he shrugs. “You can use certain substances for this kind of thing that don’t show up on those screenings. And people like that,” he says, gesturing back at the house, “I suspect they aren’t amateurs.”
The fact that he even knows something like this is alarming unto itself, but since his expression could rival Reed’s, I have a feeling he didn’t come to learn this by being the offender.
And the acknowledgment just makes Aria cry harder until she’s all-out sobbing. For the life of me, I can’t make out what she’s trying to say. Nobody can, except Maggie, apparently. She pulls Reed out of the way to sit next to Aria, closing the door on us to block out their conversation. Whatever she says seems to calm her down enough to at least get her recollection of events, and it’s not good.
Apparently, Sienna had invited Aria, and since the heinous bitch played the role of mentor so well, Aria never imagined that Sienna would ever do something like spike her drink. And since Sienna oh so conveniently got swept up in the crowds talking to people, Aria found herself alone at a party with nobody she knew. There wouldn’t be witnesses who could account for her whereabouts the entire time at the party, and therefore, Sienna would likely argue that Aria could have taken anything from anyone. Hell, I saw at least five illicit substances out in the open just on my walk-through of the house. There would be nodefinitive way to pin anything on Sienna, even if it did appear in a toxicology screening.
I have to force the bile back down at the thought, but I have to ask. “Did she say what happened with Trent?”
“About a half hour after she had the drink, she started feeling weird and went to sit on the couch, but the next thing she knew, Trent swooped in and was taking her to go ‘lie down’. Once she realized what was happening, he had her in a bedroom, and she was too out of it to fight back.”
Just when I think it can’t get worse, Reed’s eyes meet mine. I’ve only ever seen that look once before, when I told him about what Trent did to me senior year. He’s not just angry. There’s murder in those eyes, as if any second he may snap, walk back to the house, and finish what Jase started.
“This obviously wasn’t the first time he’s done this either,” he growls. “The door required a goddamn key to open it, even from the inside, and that particular bedroom is the only one in the whole fucking house that’s soundproofed.”
He doesn’t need to say the rest.
Trent learned from his encounter with me.
It wouldn’t have made a difference if Aria had been able to scream or fend him off like I did. Sure, someone like Reed could kick down the door, which I’m assuming he just did, but Aria sure as hell couldn’t. And any noise that managed to escape the soundproofing would easily be eaten up by the music and chatter of the party. Add in the “witnesses” like Sienna and her posse, the shitfaced guests, and the few sober people too intimidated to speak up; there would be nobody coming to Aria’s defense. She’d be written off as just some stupid girl who got drunk at a party and made decisions she would later regret.
It’s just part of Trent’s modus operandi. Like the psychopath he is, the only way he gets off is by manipulating and hurtingothers. What better thrill is there than doing something so heinous right under people’s noses and still get away with it?
“Please tell me that we have something else we can use here,” Reed growls, turning his attention to Dash.
“We don’t know what we have yet. It’ll take a little bit of time.”
I have no idea what Dash or Reed are talking about, but I’m far more concerned with the latter’s mental state right now to push the matter.
Reed’s fingers continue to curl and uncurl at his sides, aching to slam into something, but apart from the parked cars at the curb, there isn’t anything for him to take his frustration out on. With the way he’s pacing—or ratherstalking—I’d call Reed a caged lion. Though, he’s not exactly caged, is he? That last kernel of patience in him must snap, because he mutters, “Fuck it,” before charging back towards the house.
Thankfully, he doesn’t make it very far. Jase and Dash both anticipate the outburst, because they rush Reed, each catching hold of an arm to haul him back.
“Think this through,” Jase says, his voice low but steady. “So long as Aria talks to the police, we at least have an argument for going after Trent.”
He’s right. I may not know the specifics of what went down inside, but the lawdoesallow you to use force against someone if it’s in the defense of someone else. If Reed went back insideafterthe fact, he’d be fucked in court, and we all know it.
“You actually expect the police to do anything?” Reed gives a cold, bitter laugh. “Yeah, because they were a big fucking help last year. Tell me, Dolcezza, how well did that work out foryou?”
Every last eye shifts to me, and the pain in Jase’s expression threatens to send me to my knees.
“What is he talking about?”
