“Ashley’s a fucking freak!” The girls’ voices bounced off the wall in unison. Girls are cruel, she remembered someone told her that once. Someone who had tried to prepare her but high-school was worse than she’d ever dreamed.

“Never even been kissed?”

“No one here.”

“Probably pull the lame ‘he goes to a different school excuse’.”

“I bet she's into girls.”

“Right? I bet she totally wants us.”

“Elliott told me she got all weird and ran when he tried to kiss her.”

“Why would Elliott kiss her?”

“I dunno, but he said she bailed and ran. Can you imagine?”

“Oh my god… such a freak.”

“Yeah, totally.”

Their voices bounced back and forth. It was nothing. It was stupid. They were being mean just because they could. Who told her girls were cruel? Tears welled in Ashley’s eyes and the four small walls of the bathroom stall closed in around her until she didn't care who told her.

Ashley just wanted it to stop.

“What a stupid bitch.”

Her palms sweat, her fists balled and she dug her nails into her skin. Her vision clouded and she restrained from sniffling back her tears.

“I bet her parents died from her freakiness.”

She rose from the toilet and stared at the stall door. She recognized the voices, even if their faces weren’t easy to remember. But the shoes from under the stall door, she burned them into her memory.

“Come on Stacey, that's really mean.”

“Like I care! It’s not like she’ll be here for long.”

“Yeah, I heard she’s switched schools loads of times.”

“She’s a nut job.”

“A total freak.”

Slamming the door open, Ashley nearly knocked it off the hinges.

The girls backed up in shock, two screaming and running for the door as Ashley reeled in on Stacey. Her whole face was warm, her fingers aching as she backed her against the counter.

“I'm NOT a freak!” Ashley screamed.

Stacey stared back in shock. Over the girl’s shoulder, Ashley’s fourteen-year-old self stared back from the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, cheeks embarrassed red, and anger brimming beneath her skin. She threw her first as hard as she could, her eyes closing tight.

She felt the crunch first, the splintering of bones, the breaking of flesh. The pain was tolerable, but the sound reverberated through her whole body and made her gut ache.

Stacey shrieked but it was the sound of glass shattering against the floor that sparked Ashley’s eyes to open. The entire wall length mirror crumbled under the force and a crack, the size of Ashley's small fist, spiderwebbed through what remained.

Her hand was broken and the flesh mangled.

She waited, staring at her fingers as Stacey gasped. The blood dripped steadily for about five seconds before the skin closed up and Ashley’s bones snapped back into place.

Stacey screamed. It tore through the halls, no one in the school could have missed it. With one step back, Ashley left enough room for Stacey to go running. A second scream clawed out of the girl’s throat as the last of Ashely’s wounds healed.

With her bloody hand, Ashley smeared away her tears, the bathroom door swaying with a creak.

The door's creaking woke Ashley from the dream. Instinctively, she checked her undamaged hand, as figures began to pile into the room.

“Someone having a bad dream?” one said.

In total four had entered, and one lingered by the door. “Anyone coming?”

“Why don't you watch the door, Brendan, if you’re so worried?”the first answered.

Her eyes narrowed on the figure. I know that voice, she thought.

“You remember me?” he said, smiling.

“The fucker who likes to threaten kids,” she nearly spat at him. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember his name and, after a moment, it slithered from her fevered memory.

Monte.

He smirked triumphantly. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“Monte, come on. This is a bad idea,” a younger man said behind him standing close to the closing door.

“Gabe, if you stay in, you shut the fuck up. Or you can bitch about it and leave. ” Monte glanced over his shoulder at the rest of them as the door shut with a clang. “That goes for all of you.”

“Fuck that.” The near double to Gabe, a brother clearly, but older and angrier shook his head with disgust. “I've been waiting a long time for this.”

“We all have.” The thought was echoed by another and before long Ashley could feel her palms sweat from nerves.

“Why are we wasting our time talking.”

Taking deep breaths, Ashley met their eyes, murderous glares waiting in nearly all of them. She tried to stand but the cuff still shackled her wrist beneath the blanket and she’d only get a few feet away from the wall. No room to really maneuver.

Monte stepped forward and slammed his boot into her gut. She coughed hard, the ache throbbing through her whole frame and her breath was ripped from her by the blow.

“Nowhere to run.” His foot landed again.

She vomited the oatmeal on the floor, and the men backed away. Laughs tinged the air between her gasps. Twice more Monte kicked, her gut burning from the boots’ thundering connections.

He chuckled to himself before bending over her. Come a little closer you fuck, she thought, her fingers wrapping around the chain.

“Got somethin’ to say?” Monte’s eyes gleamed.

Ashley gripped her cuff links tight. If I can get it around his neck…

But Gabe's older brother, the angry one, stepped up and pulled back her blanket. He grabbed her cuffed arm and Monte grabbed the other. With a swung she was lifted to her knees and slammed against the wall. The force knocked her head back against the cement, her vision blinded by the blow.

“Greg, Monte - you guys shouldn’t touch her,” Gabe pleaded.

“Shut the fuck up, Gabe. The bitch deserves it.”

“Andre, you can’t seriously be cool with this,” Gabe said.

“You can leave, Gabe, but if you stay shut the fuck up.” Monte glared from across the room. “Andre, come take her arm.”

“He’s right,” Andre said. He stepped up and took Monte’s place on her left, gripping her tighter than he needed to. “You can leave if you can’t handle it.”

“Mom and Dad, Gabe,” Greg said from beside her.

Ashley’s vision flickered in and out, but their voices reverberated in the small room.

“Mom and Dad are dead because of her. Because of a wendigo,” Andre said, the third and youngest brother, Ashely guessed.

Greg nodded. “We all agreed on this, you, me, and Andre. She’s got to pay for what she’s done.”

“I take it… your… council didn’t give the go-ahead to fuck me with, did they?” Ashley said as her vision cleared up.

Greg spat in her face. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled. He pulled on the cuff over her wrist until the metal sliced her skin. She wanted to shout out, but Ashely clenched her jaw tight and avoided his eyes.

Monte wiped his hands off on his pants and smiled. “Look at me,” he said, but Ashley stared past him. She stared at Greg, the one weak link, meeting his eyes despite his efforts not to look at her.

“I said look at me.” Monte gripped her neck with one hand and squeezed. He wasn’t overly strong, but it took so little to cut off her air. After a few seconds, her airways were closed. After a minute, her chest ached.

Reluctantly, Ashely met his gaze and his grip loosened enough for her to breathe.

“That’s a good girl.”

“Fuck you,” she mustered.

The back of his hand skipped across her jaw and her vision flashed white. But his grip on her throat was gone and Ashely gasped in as many breaths as she could.

“It’s a shame you’re infected,” he said, crouching before her. She hadn’t noticed when he’d produced a blade, but it glinted in the dim light of the room. “You’re pretty. Probably could have had some good fun but…” He slid his hand into her hair and wrenched her head back. “No sense in risking it.”

A bloody gleam lit her lips. Ashley hocked back a glob of the blood from her split lip and spat at Monte.

The men all jumped back, even the ones holding her down. The blood missed his face but landed on his shirt like a black stain.

“Don’t let it touch you,” she laughed, barely bracing herself on all fours. “Wouldn’t want to catch something, right Monte?”

“Jesus Christ,”

“Don’t get that shit on you!”

“I told you, I told you this was a bad idea. We-”

“Just do it,” Greg growled. “Get this the fuck over with, Monte. If you won’t, I will.”

“All of you,” Monte yelled and the three brothers grew silent. “Keep your goddamn cool.”

“If she spits again-”

“Yeah… Monte…” Ashely coughed and spat another glob of blood their way. It hit the floor, saliva and blood laying like a boil that scared each one back another step. “The fuck you gonna do?”

The man fumed from across the cell. She watched him pace back and forth, the brothers scowling.

“Maybe we should stop,” Gabe said.

Monte ignore him and pulled off his shirt. He was built, but scarred, scratches from a wendigo that he’d been lucky enough to survive without infection. Scars that clearly fueled his rage. He ripped a strip off the shirt, tossing the bloodied part across the cell.

“Hold her,” he told the brothers.

“I’m not getting near-”

“I said, fucking hold her!” Monte yelled.

Ashley pushed to her feet, wavering in place as the room threatened to spin around her. Focus, for fuck sake, she scolded herself, smearing the blood from her lips on her hands. But Andre and Greg soldiered forward, faster than she was prepared for.

They slammed her back into the wall, and as she got ready to spit at Monte, he wrapped the shirt over her mouth. The smell of his sweat slithered up her nose and, although she tried to bite through it, the cloth prevented her from doing much more than glare.

Monte grinned. “That’s better.”

She struggled against the arms that held her but her strength was still diminished. The fever ravaged through her, spawning sweat on her brow.

“Now, where were we.” The knife flickered in Monte’s hand.

Ashley tried her best not to look at it. Don't give them the satisfaction. Narrowing her eyes, Ashley glared back at Monte as hard as she could.

“She looks pissed,” Andre said

“Just do it,” Greg said quickly, his grip on her right arm tightening.

“Nah, nah. We don't want this to go slowly, do we?” Monte drew the tip of the knife along her neck, just grazing the skin.

She swallowed her fear and closed her eyes. This isn't the worst that's happened to me. She took in a slow breath through her nose, preparing for the pain. Stronger people, smarter people have hurt me more and for much longer. Her breaths slowed and her pulse steadied.

When she opened her eyes, Monte's smile began to dwindle.

Don't give any of them the satisfaction.

“Hold her hand up,” Monte told Greg.

He did as he was told. Greg gripped her wrist and pressed the back of her hand against the wall. The chill from the cement slithered down her sweating skin and she shivered.

“Hurry up!” Andre snapped.

“No,” Monte dragged the blade delicately up her forearm towards her hand. “I want this to take a while.”

He slipped the blade into the skin of her palm. Electric pain seemed to grow from its tip, and the slow and steady inching pace Monte took sent jolts of pain down her entire arm. She flinched, bit down on the shirt between her lips, and prayed for him to just stab her.

But he didn’t. The blade went in sideways. Monte twisted it around in her hand.

Ashley couldn’t stifle a scream anymore.

Her muffled cry filled the room as he mangled her hand. Slow, agonizingly so, he turned and lifted and sliced and cracked. The brittle sawing shuddered through her and she struggled against the grips holding her down.

Gabe vomited in the corner of the room before leaving. Andre turned away. But Greg and Monte watched as if relishing the tortured cries they coaxed from her, satisfaction and glee glimmering in their eyes. After a few minutes, after at least two bones were cracked and sawed through, the shock started to settle in. Her whole arm became a numb limp object of pain that somehow seemed removed as if it was no longer a part of her body.

And then, it stopped.

Monte removed the blade dripping with blood and dragged it along her neck, painting her skin in red.

With tears in her eyes, she looked on the man before her. She carved his features into her memory.

I am going to kill you. She narrowed and focused her rage into the image of the man and his gluttonous hate.

For a moment he hesitated, Greg and Andre both swearing and mumbling something about hurrying up, but Monte shook his head. A whole conversation passed in those moments of silence as Ashley stared deep into his eyes.

The joy died in his. In its place fear flowered.

I will kill you, she said in her glare and not a thing in the world would convince her he hadn’t heard.

Monte shrugged away the shiver that visibly pricked his skin. He jabbed the knife into her hand again, nearer to her wrist, and she contorted under the twisting pain.