Trapped (Bullied Book 4) (Bullied Series) Vera Hollins (best large ereader txt) 📖

I headed to my locker to retrieve my headphones, intending to use a music app I’d downloaded to create music when I wasn’t home. I passed the gym, and the continuous thumps of a basketball and squeaking sneakers greeted me through the wall. My heart accelerated, associating those sounds with Blake, and I shook my head at my silly reaction. That could be anyone inside, and even if it was Blake, it didn’t matter—

A cry that sounded like it came from the depths of the person’s soul stopped me short. It was followed by another that was on the verge of a scream, suffusing me with concern. My legs carried me to the gym doors quickly.

I cracked the door open and peeked inside. Blake was playing basketball alone on the court, and I had to stifle the gasp that yearned to get out. He moved fast across the floor, dribbling aggressively and jump-shooting over and over again. He scored a basket each time.

The tormented look on his face spurred a bitter feeling in me, and I found myself wishing I could do anything to help that expression disappear. It looked like he was running away from his demons, his every move full of anxiety that took over his body. My mind drifted off to that shocking video.

I closed my eyes under the onslaught of the gruesome images. I was finally able to understand him better. Whatever he’d gone through before and after that day didn’t justify his ruthlessness, but it explained all that endless anger and hate.

With another blood-chilling cry, he swung the ball at the basket and supported himself against his knees, panting and covered in sweat.

The ball hit the backboard and bounced off the floor in my direction. It kept rolling until it stopped close to me, but Blake didn’t turn around to get it. Instead, he stayed in the same position.

I’d found him alone on the basketball court enough times to know it was his way of getting rid of whatever was troubling him, and after seeing that video, I could only imagine the extent of his pain. Basketball was his outlet, allowing him to pour out his pent-up anger and aggression on the court, but it wasn’t enough because he was a walking bomb of tension that could explode at any moment, provoked or unprovoked.

His gaze was now fixed on one spot in front of him, and his eyes had that faraway look that made it seem like he wasn’t here but at some scary place. My instinct told me to help him. But help him with what?

I curled my fingers into a fist as I looked down the hallway that led to my locker. I knew very well I should stay away from him. He’d told me he would leave me alone. I was finally having my freedom. The healthy and logical thing would be to keep my distance from him as much as possible and forget about him. That was the only way I could move on.

So what the hell was I doing now?

I entered the gym and took the ball. He didn’t move an inch; his eyes were still on the same spot on the floor.

“Hey, Blake.” My heart was pounding too hard. He remained motionless, his hands fisted against his knees. “Blake? Blake, do you hear me?”

It took him a few seconds to react. He straightened himself up and turned around, his face taut with pain and fear as he just stared through me, looking out of it. I observed him to try to find out why he would feel fear at all, but I came up with nothing.

I bounced the ball to the basket, fighting to keep my gaze on him. “Are you okay?”

His face took on a guarded expression as his eyes finally focused on me. “What…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, breathing heavily. “What are you doing?”

I’m trying to help you with your demons because apparently I can’t just walk away when you’re in pain.

“Let’s play one on one.”

He opened his eyes and narrowed them at me, and my face turned red. My proposition sounded ridiculous even to my own ears given our circumstances.

He started taking deep breaths as he rubbed the back of his hand with his other hand, looking way too guarded. “After everything you said on Monday?”

I stopped at the free-throw line before I aimed at the basket, growing more flushed under his hard stare. This was very uncharacteristic of me, but I liked the fact that I hadn’t run away yet. I coughed twice and sniffed.

“I just want to play.”

I shot at the basket and felt the familiar rush at the motion. I knew I was going to miss the shot because the last time I’d played the basketball was with my cousins in my hometown during the last Christmas holidays, but that didn’t douse the excitement. I loved basketball, despite being an average player.

I missed the basket by a few inches, and the ball passed right under it. I needed to put more force into my shot the next time. I went to the ball and picked it up.

“I don’t want to play with you, so pass me the ball and leave.”

In an unusual spurt of courage, I gave him a small smile and looked at him under my half-closed lids. “And if I don’t?”

Distress ebbed away from his face, as if whatever demons holding him prisoner started to disappear. His eyes filled with a completely different emotion as he erased the distance between us in slow steps. He stopped too close to me, and I had to raise my head to maintain our eye contact, unable to breathe.

“Careful, Jessie,” he said quietly. “You don’t get to toy with me.”

I was sure he could hear the maddening pounding of my heart. It was impossible not to notice how hot he looked in his black basketball jersey and shorts. The beads of