Squeak

Jezebel's New Nightmare

Jezebel

I was shaken by the time I arrived at first period. So much so that I barely noticed the taunting and jeering from my peers. My mind seemed to have escaped me.

Or perhaps I left it behind on the pavement at the crime scene.

I called it the crime scene because it had to be a crime for a person to be so attractive. I was stunned as I stared at the boy with the tattoos that splattered across his neck and crawled down to his ringed fingers. I felt something as we stared at each other. My chest rose and fell in a rapid staccato. I attempted to identify the warmth that started in my belly and sank below.

Is this lust?

My tongue darted out and teased my bottom lip. I could hear my father's words taunting me while I drank him in.

"Don't be out in these streets being a Jezebel. You hear?" Was I being a Jezebel?

A horn blaring had snapped me back to reality. I had never been more grateful for Tucker Harrison in my life.

Tucker Harrison.

That was a name I could live without. We're told to celebrate all of God's creatures, but Tucker had done nothing but torment me since I moved to town at the beginning of sixth grade. As each year passed, his bullying became more and more relentless, almost to the point of depravity. I prayed for Tucker Harrison every night and morning when my knees hit the carpet, but Satan kept winning every time. It was unlike Christ to say it and blasphemous to think it, but...the world—at least my world, would be better off without Tucker Harrison.

Perhaps that's why I still suffer at Tucker's hands. Maybe he's a test from our Lord, and I'm continuously failing. I have to do better. It won't be hard. I only have one more school year left. I doubt Tucker will enroll at Southwestern Assemblies of God University. For my sake, I pray Tucker lands a football scholarship that will take him far away from me.

I entered the classroom, and to no surprise, I was the first to arrive. I had no friends with whom I needed to catch up and discuss my uneventful summer break. There was no reason for me to linger in the hallways admiring the various school club posters or details of the upcoming football schedule. I wouldn't be in attendance to either. The only after-school activity my father believed in was bible study. Last year, I presented my father with an application to join Student Council because I thought it would be great to add to my college application. My father vehemently denied, stating that some of the club's activities would require me to be out of the house after the sun went down. And according to him, that's when a woman's legs opened. I didn't bother challenging the hypocrisy of his statement.

If a woman's legs opened after sundown, then a man's pants dropped, too. Why is the woman shamed but not the man?

My father insisted that my work in the church as a junior usher, choir member, children's church helper, and bible camp counselor would speak for itself. I loved God but hated being forced to participate in church-related activities. I didn't hate serving God—he was my everything. I hated my lack of autonomy.

God says we are to have free will, but where is my free will? Where is my free will to think how I want, do what I want, dress how I want, and live as I want? Who am I? I'm not molded in God's image. I'm molded in my father's image, and that scares me the most.

My biggest fear was becoming Reverend Franklin Holmes. I admired nothing of him, and as much as he claimed to love God and how he lived for Jesus, he seemed like a miserable soul.

I'm not far behind him.

***

I swiftly sat in the front row and pulled out my chemistry textbook, composition notebook, and a number two pencil. I distracted myself from my sinful thoughts by carefully writing my name at the top right-hand corner of my paper, followed by the date, and the class period. My efforts were in vain because I still thought of the boy with tattoos. I flipped to the last page of my notebook and drew the periodic table from memory as students began filing through the door. I winced when I heard Tucker's crude and disgusting remarks about Mrs. Winters, our English teacher. I saw her, and it was evident Mrs. Winters had breast augmentation over the summer break, and Tucker couldn't stop talking about how she was a MILF and a cougar and all the things he would do to her—things I wouldn't repeat, and things that should only happen between a husband and wife. Tucker was repulsive.

See Jezebel? This is why you can't be free from him. As the Bible says, those without sin throw the first stone.

I jumped when a textbook loudly slammed on the desk behind me.

He could've sat anywhere, but he decided to sit behind me.

"Your hair is so fucking annoying," Tucker dramatically sighed. "That shit's all in the way. I won't be able to see the board."

I tightly gripped my pencil in my hand. I wanted to tell him there were plenty of empty seats he could move to, but he would make my life a living Hell. It was better to keep quiet. Thankfully, the tardy bell rang, calling the class to order. I focused my attention on my textbook while Mrs. Divet called roll. She was only a third of the way into the roster when the heaviness of a dark presence began to suffocate me. I didn't have to guess who brought upon this cursed plague. His malevolent presence choked me with wispy finger-like black tendrils—squeezing me until his rings left indentions on my throat.

"You must be Erik King. Vice Principal Smith gave me a head's up that you might be running a little behind. Please find a seat," Mrs. Divet greeted before urging him to find a seat.

Erik King. I have a feeling that will be a name I'll never forget.

I gasped when his fingers walked across the top of my desk and trembled once my eyes landed on the bold rose tatted on the back of his hand. The deep red and black hues were both menacing yet beautiful.

I wondered what lousy Karma I earned when my pencil dropped onto the floor. It rolled right in his path. My heart flitted like a hummingbird when Erik crouched to the floor to retrieve my pencil.

"Put that gum in her hair, and I promise I'll stab you in the jugular with this pencil, and she'll be writing her chemistry notes with your blood," Erik lowly warned Tucker, causing me to seize. It was my first time hearing him speak, and like his name, his voice would be unforgettable. Erik's voice was eerily grave, deep, and slightly seductive. It was a voice that could whisper in your ear, and either call you out of a deep slumber or give you nightmares for eternity. His voice was threatening and possessive; if I didn't know any better, I'd compare him to an incubus. "Hey. Get your shit and move to the back."

Erik didn't have to tell me twice. I immediately gathered my belongings and flew to the back of the classroom. I'd do anything to avoid sinking further into the suffocating quicksand that was Erik King.

Mrs. Divet continued calling roll after warning Erik about his behavior.

"Jezebel Holmes?"

I winced when she called my name and my classmates snickered. It was tiresome at that point. I'd been attending school with these people for seven years. You would think the joke would get old at some point.

"Here," I softly replied.

I spent most of the class staring out the window with my chin resting in my palm. I was bored last night and read the first chapter, 'An Introduction to Matter, Energy, and Measurements.' But then, I felt him, and like the apple in the Garden, I couldn't resist. My eyes met Erik's demanding hazel orbs before returning to the safety of my textbook.

"Mr. King?"

"Yes, Mrs. Divet?"

"Is there something back there that's so interesting that you're not focused on the work?"

"Not something...but someone," Erik replied as he looked over his shoulder again. Ashlynn flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, disgustingly spilling her brittle ends onto my desk. I was convinced she didn't have real friends because a real friend would've told her she needed a serious trim to her damaged ends.

The bell rang, ending my torment. Or...so I thought. A foot that wasn't previously in the middle of the aisle suddenly stuck out, causing me to narrowly miss smashing my face into the floor. I prayed my way out of the classroom.

God, I place my faith and trust in you to heal their wicked hearts. Please forgive them, and give me the strength to persevere. 

09/08/2022

Author's Corner

The next chapter will pick up when Jezebel leaves P.E. and bumps into Erik.