Hush, Hush: Spite Fics (Part 1)
ZeldaQueen: And now, it is time for us to honor everyone who used the spite to fight against canon. Here we go!
Author:
das_mervin
Background: A GIF in which Castiel blows Patch into chunky salsa, posted for Chapter 3
Notes from author: I am just going to leave this here.
Author:
propinquus
Background: From Chapter 3, in which we see how the potential mates trait conversation would have gone if Patch had redeeming characteristics
I sat there in an awkward silence as Coach stared expectantly at me. It wasn't anyone's business as to what traits I looked for in a potential mate.
"Well?" asked Coach with a maddeningly smug look on his face.
"Why should she have to answer that?" Patch demanded out of the silence, much to my surprise. "That's not really a question pertaining to Biology now, is it? And it's a personal question, if you ask me."
I could hear whispers throughout the class at Patch's objection to Coach's demands.
"Well, Mr. Cipriano, what do you look for in a potential mate, since you so kindly volunteered?" Coach was such a jerk; why was he even allowed to teach at this school?
Patch shrugged, unaffected. "I guess I would want her to be somewhat attractive. There has to be some level of physical attraction. It'd be nice if she had a good personality, and if she was relatively intelligent, too."
"Now let's say you're at a party. what would you do if you saw such a girl that met your criteria; how would you know if she was interested?"
Patch raised his eyebrows, bemused. "Well the obvious thing would be to go up to her to strike up a conversation. If she was interested, she'd keep the conversation going. If not, then I'd go pursue someone else. Simple as that."
Coach made a face, displeased at Patch's calm demeanor. He cleared his throat and turned back to the whiteboard.
"Yes. Well. Anyway..." He continued on with the lesson.
"Thanks for that," I whispered to Patch.
"No problem," he responded. "That's a pretty rude question for a teacher to ask a student, especially a female one. But if you don't mind me asking- and it's fine if you don't- what traits do you look for in a guy?"
I felt my face redden. I shrugged. "It's fine. I guess I really haven't thought of it. It's just embarrassing when a teacher calls you out in front of a class."
He nodded. "Understandable. It's too bad you haven't thought of them, though."
"Why?" I quickly glanced at him.
He fiddled with his pencil a little. "I suppose I was hoping that I might fit into your expectations. And if it means anything at all to you-" he was staring lightly into my eyes at this point "-but you fit into all of my criteria. I'm serious, Nora. You're really attractive, and I can tell you're pretty smart based off of what I've seen you accomplish in this class. You've been pretty nice to me, too. Especially since I was such an ass the first day. I guess I was trying to come off as cool, but all I came off as was a complete jerk. I'm sorry for that."
I felt relieved; so there was a good side to this guy after all.
"Tell you what," he continued. "Why don't I take you out to lunch after school? Your choice?"
I smiled. "That'd be really nice."
Author: mogseltof
Background: Chapter 3, in response to Coach's humiliating Nora in front of the entire class
'The blood vessels in Nora's face are widening and her skin is warming," Patch said. 'She knows she's being evaluated. She likes the attention, but she's not sure how to handle it.'
“I’m sorry?” I asked, jerking back from him in revulsion. “When did I become a tray of mince in the freezer at the supermarket?”
He smirked at me, giving me an itch in my arm to smack him upside the head and wipe it off his face.
“And you know, it is possible to say ‘blushing’ instead of describing the process of the nervous and emotional reflex that causes it,” I said, all pretence at civility dying with my embarrassment, quickly replaced with burning anger. “We’re all senior level biology students, we do know what it is.”
The class tittered, amused at the almost turn of the tables.
“I’d like to present my observations, sir,” I said airily, waving my hand in the air like an eight year old wanting to answer a question. “I select my potential boyfriends based on their prettiness and resemblance to a carrot and how stupid they are so they don’t outshine me!”
I got more of a laugh this time, and when I looked at Fitzpatrick, his smirk was gone, replaced by a flash of anger in his eyes and a frown. He reached forward, placing his hand on my forearm. I looked at it pointedly, giving him a cool glare. When he didn’t remove it I tried to shake it off, but he merely slid it down to my wrist as if holding me there.
Mistake, if that was what he wanted. I made a circular motion with my hand and wrist, forcing his hand to let go, before sweeping my notebook and cluttered pens into a pile. I stood up, holding them with one arm.
“If you’ll excuse me sir,” I said politely. “I need to go make a report for continued harassment after repeated requests to stop.”
I didn’t bother to wait for an answer before slinging my satchel over one shoulder and stalking out of the room. As I left, there was a muffled outburst of laughter, a supporting shout from Vee, a protest from Patch and a smile on my face.
What an arsehole.
Author: winki_pop
Background: Chapter 3, written to have Coach called out on his misogynistic teaching methods
"you'll see that children are the key to the survival of our species. And the more children you have, the greater your contribution to the gene pool”
"...Coach McConaugh?"
Appearing at the door of the science room was Principal Sarah May, a woman in her 40s with long brown hair and a black pants suit. Her face was grave as she walked to the front of the classroom, staring out at the students.
"Coach McConaugh, what I'm about to tell you is very serious," she began, "and something all the students need to hear. I am hereby suspending you from this particular class and from teaching at Maine Local High School. We have received a number of complaints from students and their parents about you behaviour in class and the subject matter you are bringing into the classroom."
She then looked straight at Patch with narrowed eyes. "We've also received a complaint about a male student sexually harassing a fellow female student, which is a very serious offence."
Patch gritted his teeth at the principal, but she only looked back at him with disdain.
"Coach McConaugh, I need you to leave the school premises immediately. You are to pack up your desk and security will escort you out."
Coach McConaugh was no doubt appalled, his arms slumped by his sides and shoulders stiff. His brows then furrowed and his lips pursed. "You can't kick me out!" he barked, "I was appointed to this class!"
"Well, we have come to see that we have made a truly grave mistake," Principal May replied.
"This is bullshit, I'm not going anywhere!"
"Well, if we're gonna have a problem with this, Coach, I could just call security now if you like?"
Coach McConaugh huffed irritably through his nose. He knew he had been defeated and causing anymore trouble was going to result in just that. He quickly stormed out of class while the rest of the students looked on wide-eyed and whispering to one another.
"I'm sorry to everyone here that this class has been such a distressing experience for you all," apologised Principal May. "We will soon have a replacement for this class, but until then it will not run until further notice. You may all leave and continue working in the library on any other work you may have."
The students were no doubt relieved to ditch out on this class, practically racing out of the room.
Principal May, meanwhile, stopped Patch before he could make it to the door.
"As for you, you'll be joining me in my office," she told him bluntly. "We have a lot to discuss about your behaviour."
Patch looked like he was about to snarl at her.
"And if you think you can push me around like some poor pathetic woman," she spat at him, "then I don't think you know me all that well, Patch…"
Author: gehayi
Background: From Chapter 4, written in response to Patch's behavior, and what Nora's options are to deal with it
Notes from author: Resolve
Patch wouldn't shut up during the quiz. Quiz, hah. It was easy to pass one of those things; all you had to do was echo back Coach's sexist bullshit. I'd tried writing down actual information earlier in the year, but I'd given up after my facts--which were more accurate than anything Coach had ever dreamed of spouting--got me a couple of Fs. I'd had to do a ton of extra credit to wipe out those grades, too.
After that, I got the message. Shut the fuck up, little girl, and don't bother boring me with facts because my mind's already made up. Just repeat everything I say and you'll get an A...which, after all, is what colleges look for. Who cares if you've actually learned anything?
Oh, yeah. I was just a little pissed about this. And every quiz just made it more annoying. I really did not need Patch whispering in my ear, least of all in that mock-solicitous tone of his.
"Did you have a rough night?"
I could have told him--though I didn't--that having a car accident that nearly totaled my car and then mysteriously un-happened was preying on my nerves a little. But that was none of his fucking business. The last thing I wanted this creep to know was how rattled I was.
So I tried ignoring him--you know, what parents and teachers always tell you to do to bullies. It doesn't work, of course. Bullies don't think, "Oh, well, she's not interested, so I'll go on to someone else." Their attitude is, "Goddamn it, I'll FORCE you to pay attention to me!"
So I didn't dare wholly ignore the asshole. My car had been destroyed and repaired in seconds; my body--and my life--could be smashed just as easily, and there was no guarantee he'd put either back together so that they worked the way they were supposed to.
"You look so tired, Nora."
Amazing how much "tired" sounded like "weak." And "helpless."
Also, bullies often read someone ignoring them as fear. They're usually right, too.
If there was one thing I couldn't afford to show, it was fear. I'd been silent too long. Never mind that we were taking a quiz and we were supposed to be quiet. And he was crowding me--his fingers brushing at wisps of my hair and lightly touching the skin of my arm as I tried to write, his leg pressing against mine. All of it sending the same signal: I can have you any time that I want. You're mine, bitch.
So I spoke to him. I mentioned that I'd spotted him at the library. I wanted him to know that yeah, I'd noticed what he was doing, no, I didn't like it, and no, I wasn't afraid to call him out on it. I didn't want him to see me as a threat; I was sure he'd take out anyone who was a real danger to him. But someone who was aware of what was going on and who had the guts to say, "Leave me ALONE!" might be more trouble than she was worth.
Of course, then he'd probably move on to some other girl who was even more vulnerable and more terrified than I was. And the cycle would start all over again.
Damn, I hated this.
I got up to turn in the quiz, hoping that Coach wouldn't decided that Patch had been whispering answers to me throughout the quiz. Never mind that I was one of the best students in class and Patch's only contribution to class had been the sexual harassment of yours truly. I was a girl. In Coach's eyes, that meant that I was dumber than Patch by default.
I turned to trudge back to my seat--and got a shock.
Patch looked so...boyish.
I don't mean that he was handsome or had a nice smile, though he was and he did. It was if he'd sloughed off the bad boy jacket and put on a charming-boy-and-ideal-student suit. He looked like every parents' dream date for their daughter.
No one looking at him would think of him as a sexually harassing stalker.
His smile grew just a hair wider as he gazed at me.
Okay. That was it. I needed backup.
I told Coach that I felt sick to my stomach and needed to go to the nurse's office before I threw up. All of which was true. I was getting such a creepy vibe from Patch that I felt as if I might hork up that minute. I guess I looked like that, too, because Coach let me go with a minimum of fuss.
I did go to the nurse, and I did lie down. But once I was lying on the cot, I called 911. (After all, I didn't have the regular number of the Coldwater, Michigan Police Department on speed-dial.)
Once I got transferred from the emergency number to the regular one, I spoke to an Officer Lewis. She sounded like a nice woman. She even sounded as if she believed that Patch was sexually harassing and stalking me.
The tough thing was proving it.
"Under Michigan law," she explained, "stalking is defined as 'a willful course of conduct involving repeated or continuing harassment of another individual that would cause a reasonable person to feel terrorized, frightened, intimidated, threatened, harassed, or molested, and that actually causes the victim to feel terrorized, frightened, intimidated, threatened, harassed, or molested.' That's straight from the statute.
"But that is how he's making me feel," I said, gripping my cell tightly. "He creeps me out. And he won't stop!"
"I know," she said glumly. "The problem is that he's a sixteen-year-old boy, and sixteen-year-old boys are known to brush against or run into girls just to get physical contact. They're certainly known for making sexual remarks. And no, that doesn't make his behavior any better. But it does mean that his behavior is within normal parameters for a teenaged boy. He's annoying, certainly--but he's not doing anything that most people--well, most men--would consider terrifying, frightening or intimidating. Quite a few judges and lawyers would probably say that he was trying to get your attention because he likes you."
"He doesn't like me! He thinks of me as vulnerable! He said so!"
"And that's creepy, yes. Unfortunately, having creepily bad taste isn't illegal. Or an indication of stalking." Then she sighed. "Look. I agree with you. I think that your intuition is absolutely right--Patch is bad news. And I think that your teacher is an idiot for forcing you to sit next to him. But he hasn't hurt you. He hasn't threatened to hurt you. He hasn't made a series of non-stop calls or emails to your house. He hasn't approached you repeatedly in public places or public buildings--and there's no way that we can stop him from attending school or going to the library. As far we know, he hasn't followed you to your house or camped out on your parents' property. He's creepy...but within widely accepted parameters for young and/or socially clueless men.
"Personally, I'd like to give him a smack with a wet barracuda and then tell him to stay the hell away from you. But he's not breaking Michigan law. Not yet, anyway."
"What about federal law? It's a federal crime, too, right?"
"Yes. But only under certain circumstances. A stalker can't cross state, tribal or international lines--personally, by mail, by email or by cyberstalking. And he can't stalk on federal land like national parks or military bases.
"But none of that applies in your case. You're both here in Michigan. And even if you were in a different state and he followed you there...well, under federal law, it's not enough for you to feel harassed or to be afraid. Patch would have to follow across state lines with the intent to kill, injure, harass, or intimidate you. Proving intent to harass and intent to intimidate is tough; stalkers often don't see any reason for their victims to not welcome their attentions."
"So my best bet would be to hope that he tried to hurt or kill me?" This was insane. I couldn't have heard that right.
"That--and that you had video and audio records of him attacking you at least twice. Twice or more indicates a pattern of behavior, you see."
"That's. Fucking. DEMENTED!"
"Yes. It is."
Hearing her admit this didn't make me feel any better.
"And it gets worse," she continued. "Because he's sixteen, seventeen, somewhere in there, right? Well, stalking in Michigan is a misdemeanor. The penalty for the first offense is one year and/or $1,000 fine, and up to five years probation. He probably wouldn't get a year in prison--not at his age. Unless he hurt or killed you, he'd most likely get a year in juvie, and maybe a year's probation. When he turned eighteen, that record would be sealed. No matter how much stalking and sexual harassment he committed, the case would disappear. There'd be nothing to tell any law enforcement agency that Patch had ever been a stalker...and that he'd probably become one again.
"I'm so sorry, Nora. But there isn't a thing I can do." And she hung up.
I stared at the cellphone in my hand, wondering when my life had turned into a horror movie.
Author: das_mervin
Background: A GIF in which Patch is destroyed via Supernatural means, made for Chapter 4
Notes from author: With apologies to Silent Hill 3.
Author: mancalledtrue
Background: From Chapter 4, as a death fic for Patch
Notes from author: And now, some fantasizing. It was this or a Demon: The Fallen reference, and I figured more of you would get this one
As Patch left the house, he could hear a sound in the bushes to his left. For a moment, he just let it slide. When he heard it again, however, his eyebrow twitched. It definitely sounded like it was coming closer.
And then something cut off the light coming from the streetlights up ahead. He squinted and looked towards that direction.
A tall, muscled man stood before him, a sword balanced on one shoulder. The man had white hair, a cocky grin, and a pair of pistols hanging off his hips. The wind caught the long red coat he wore, revealing several other weapons hanging off his belt.
"So, you're this 'Patch' kid I keep hearing about, huh?" the man said.
Patch was about to answer when something crossed his senses. Whoever this guy was, it wasn't a human being... He crossed his arms and said, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm doing my job. Heard about some 'fallen angel' running around this town, figured it was something worth looking into. Guess I was wrong. Damn, I hate it when I'm wrong." The man chuckled, but there wasn't any humor in it. "Trish is gonna laugh her ass off when I get home."
Patch felt his spine go cold. This guy knew what he was... and was casual about it. What was going on?
Only then did he realize he'd tipped his hand too far. The man looked up again, meeting his eyes... and not even blinking. "Oh. I guess I was right after all." He laughed, and this time there was humor in it. "You gotta be kidding me. YOU, a fallen angel? Oh, come ON! Did Hell's standards go down a few dozen points or something?!?"
"Who the hell are you?" Patch said, his fist clenching.
"Don't even bother asking." And then the man tossed his sword into the ground, point-first, and drew his pistols from their holsters. "Time to go to work, boys."
Patch had never really felt afraid of guns. What could they do? He only looked human, after all.
But when the bullets tore through his right shoulder, he realized that something was very wrong. A third bullet blew out the sinew, and his right arm fell to the ground.
Fallen angels don't feel pain, but that didn't make the sudden dismemberment any less frightening. "W-What the-"
He didn't get any more words out. Before he could do anything to stop it, the man holstered his guns and brought his sword up in an arc, slashing Patch's vocal cords out. "Shut up, kid," he said.
The sword came around the other way, and Patch lost all feeling in his legs. A second later, the sky swung down in an arc, and he realized that it was because the man had just cut him in half.
The last thought in Patch's mind was profanity. The last thing that went through his head was a bullet.
----
Dante cleaned off his sword as he trotted away from the scene, a good two minutes ahead of the cops. They'd paid him well for this job, saying something about "that mind-raping motherfucker" and giving him the address.
"Goddamn marionettes were more of a challenge," the demon slayer said as he slung Rebellion over his shoulder once more. "Now..." He unfolded a checklist and marked off Patch's name. "When's the next bus to Forks?"
Author: albion_witch
Background: From Chapter 10, in response to the flippant treatment of Vee's shoplifting attempt
Notes from author: A brief spite fic
Vee looked up and nearly dropped her bundle of underwear. Behind her was a large, middle-aged woman with frizzled red hair and she had a hand on the teenager's shoulder.
"I would like you to come with me," she ordered.
Vee turned to Nora. "At least that solves the mystery of your stalker. Just some rent-a-cop."
The woman then grabbed Vee's shoulder and jerked her closer.
"You're in a lot of trouble already," she said sternly, "so it would behoove you to keep your mouth shut. We have several witnesses confirming that you were peeling off clearance tags and putting on regular priced merchandise."
"Well, they make good stuff so expensive," Vee grumbled, despite Nora mouthing "no".
"It is still shoplifting," the woman continued, "and if my daughters pulled that same stunt, they wouldn't be able to sit for a week and that would be considered just a slap on the wrist."
"Are you gonna call my mom?" Nora asked as Vee glared at her.
"I have to," the woman answered. "You two have become my responsibility right now."
She turned Vee around and reapplied her grip on the girl's shoulder as she motioned them to head towards the back of the store. Vee scowled the whole way with Nora meekly following.
Author: gnosticdiva
Background: From Chapter 14, in response to how Nora's mother was written as an inattentive and neglectful parent
Notes from author: A Mother's Love
"Mom, have you ever been afraid of Dad?"
Mrs. Gray stopped cold at the question. She knew she wasn't imagining how lost and frightened her little girl's voice sounded. She turned to gaze at Nora. "Baby, where's this coming from?"
"I just..." Nora was flushed, as if guilty of something. "I just wanna know," the teen finished weakly.
"Not at first," Mom replied, her voice soft. "At first, he seemed a little... intense, but sweet. He was always saying nice things and giving me little gifts. Calling me all the time." Mrs. Gray frowned at the memory. "I was young. Insecure. Lonely. So I fell for the attention he gave me, how he made me feel like the only girl in the world. I thought... given time, I'd love him as much as he seemed to love me."
Nora swallowed hard. "But then...?"
"He convinced me to have sex without a condom. I didn't want to, but he wheedled me into it and I got pregnant. I told him that my parents wouldn't approve of their only daughter being pregnant and unwed, so he proposed. We had a quickie wedding before I started to show, and then you were born." Mrs. Gray tucked a strand of Nora's hair behind the girl's ear. "No matter what, baby, you were *never* a mistake to me.
"But... a short time after that's when the beatings started. I was a young mother, alone and scared, who hadn't known the man she'd married. From the time you were born, I had grown from wary to terrified of him, and learned to avoid him whenever he drank heavily. It was a relief when he died last year."
Mrs. Gray then steeled Nora with a look. "Why do you ask?" When Nora opened her mouth to speak, her mother added, "And don't tell me you 'just wanna know', again. There's... someone who's scaring you, isn't there?"
Nora stared into her mother's open, honest face, saw the lines that aged her prematurely. Her gaze dropped to the bruise on her mother's neck; from an incident years before where Nora's father had attempted to strangle her mother, and the damage had not completely healed.
Nora's face crumpled and she broke down into a sob. Her mother pulled her gently into a comforting embrace.
When the tears began to subside, Nora told her mother everything. About Patch. About her mysterious stalker. Her suspicions that it was Patch doing the stalking. Her fear. How her teachers and friends had laughed at and dismissed her terror as an idle teenage brain hopped up on adolescent hormones.
Mrs. Gray's eyes were dark as a thundercloud. "I've had experience with the police here. They won't help you. But I'll do what I can as your mother." She gently brushed away her daughter's tears. "We'll move to a nice new place in two weeks, sweetheart. Far away from Patch, and we'll start a new life there." Mrs. Gray's glance around the house was cold. "I never liked this place, anyway."
"What do I do for the next two weeks?" Nora asked, sniffling. "I have to got to school and... and... P-patch will be there."
"Go to school, like normal, for next week. Don't go out at night. Stay in busy areas. If you're approached by this Patch kid, or anyone else who seems threatening or is attempting to isolate you, scream 'fire!' and make a scene." Mrs. Gray replied. "Just for one week, you need to hang in there for me. After next week, I'll take you out of school, and you and I will be joined at the hip to finish packing up. Ok?"
Nora nodded. "Mom... I... this is a lot of trouble for me. For you to go through, I mean."
Mrs. Gray smiled sadly at her daughter. "Oh, baby, *you* are not the problem here. No matter what anyone tells you, you don't deserve this and you're not overreacting. And I'm getting you out of here, because I'd be a bad mom if I didn't do *something* about it."
Nora's tears came afresh at her mother's words. "Oh, mom... I-I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, baby. I love you. Always."
Author: midoriri
Background: From Chapter 15, in response to Miss Greene's advice for Nora to avoid Patch being treated as something suspicious
"This boy, Patch." Miss Greene's voice was hard. "Stay away from him. Don't go anywhere alone with him, ever, an--what's the matter?"
As she had said that warning, I'd felt my eyes start to water. Hot tears fell rapidly from my eyes, and I started hiccuping, breathing harder than I'd been just a second ago.
Miss greene's stern, cold look was instantly replaced with one of concern. "Nora?"
"Help me!" I sobbed loudly, covering my face. A small part of me that was still able to think rationally wondered why I had asked her for help, but the other part of me, the part that was terrified, didn't listen. "Miss Greene, please, I--I'm trying to stay away!" I wailed. "But he won't leave me alone! I--I think he's stalking me, he keeps making these awful comments to me, he just scares me so much and no one does anything because they don't think it's that bad and even my best fucking friend doesn't care, and no one will help me and I'm scaaaared!" I screamed, falling to the floor in a crying, shaking ball. As I wept, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, then felt arms go around me. It took a few moments for me to realize that Miss Greene was speaking softly.
That had been a trick my mother knew when I was little...I had no choice but to cry softer and softer til I stopped, so I could hear what Miss Greene was saying.
"Shhhh, sh-sh-shhh..." Miss Greene whispered, rubbing my back. It was amazing how much warmer she sounded than she had a minute ago. "Shhh, it's alright. I was afraid he would do this." That hard edge was back. "You're not the first girl he's tried to reel in."
"Wh-what?" I hicupped, looking up at her and wiping my eyes.
She wasn't listening. "Well, no more. No more of this...I can't stand back and watch him drive another maiden to tears and terrorize her before...claiming her like a trophy," she spat.
Was it my imagination, or was she glowing?
"What are you--?" I began to ask, but that moment, Miss Greene pulled away, and I was temporarily blinded by a flash of bright light. I screamed and covered my eyes--and a second later, I felt warmer. Safe. I felt--no, I knew Patch wouldn't be able to hurt me, not now, not ever again.
"Stay here, child," I heard a voice say. It sounded remarkably like Miss Greene, but there was a weird sound to it--like there were multiple Miss Greenes and they were all echoing. "I've set up a barrier around the house. His kind can't cross it...When I'm through with him, he will not trouble anyone ever again."
I heard a rush of air, the sound of wings flapping, a feather brushed against my cheek--and then she was gone.
Author: zelda_queen
Background: From Chapter 17, in response to Nora lying to the police to allow Patch to get away with his despicable behavior
"He spread his hands. 'It's a pretty basic question. But if you want me to get more specific, I can. When I was in high school, I only offered rides to girls I was interested in. Let's carry that a step further. What's your relationship with your bio partner ... outside the classroom?'
I raised my eyebrows. 'You really want to know that? Get out a pencil and a notebook, this is going to take some time.'
Nearly half an hour later, it looked like everything was finally getting straightened out.
'So let me make sure I have this right,' said Detective Basso, looking over everything he had scribbled down. 'The night you argued with Marcie, he cornered you under the parking garage, chased you, pinned you to a pillar, and threatened you?'
''A guy like me could take advantage of a girl like you' were his exact words,' I replied.
'And you believe he stalked you to the library.'
'Twice, yes. And to the amusement park and the ladies' room of a restaurant...'
Detective Basso rubbed his forehead. 'Have you spoken to anyone else about this? Your mother, you teacher, anyone?'
'I told my biology teacher,' I said. 'He didn't listen at all. In fact, he ordered me to spend time outside of class tutoring Patch.' I scratched my nose as I tried to get my thoughts together. It was now or never to say what I knew. 'There's something else. A few weeks ago, my friend Vee was brutally attacked by a masked person. She believes that this person had the same height and build as Patch.'
'I see,' said Detective Basso. He flipped the notebook closed. 'Nora,' he said, 'I want you to understand that you were very brave to tell us this. This boy - Patch - he is not safe at all. The farther away from him you stay, the better off you'll be.'
I stared at the ground. 'That's what Miss Greene said," I muttered.
'Who's Miss Greene?'
'My new therapist. She warned me that Patch was dangerous and that I shouldn't go near him.' I twisted my hair and closed my eyes. 'At the time, I resented it. But now...'
'I understand.'
'Detective Basso.' Detective Holstijic stood near the window. I had nearly forgotten about him, he had been so quiet. He must have been keeping watch. 'There's a black van pulling into the driveway.'
Detective Basso frowned. 'Nora, is that your mother's car?'
'No.'
'Were you expecting visitors?'
I cringed. 'Yes. It's Patch. After he drove me home, he insisted I let him take me out. I told him I didn't want to, but he didn't listen! I'm so sorry!' Oh god, they must think I'm so stupid. I should have tried harder to refuse Patch. What the hell?
'Basso,' said Holstijic, 'he's heading up the driveway.'
'Fantastic,' said Detective Basso. 'I have a few questions for this clown. Nora, I think you'd better wait upstairs until your date goes home.'
'Right,' I said. I started for the stairs, but paused when Detective Basso called my name.
'Don't worry about it, kid,' he said. 'It's not your fault. You did your best, we'll take it from here.'"
Author: midoriri
Background: From Chapter 20, in response to Nora's mother failing to notice that her daughter was clearly being assaulted on the front porch
"I'll call the police." I had no idea how I said it so bravely. My breathing was rapid and shallow, my hands clammy.
"Are you going to shout for them? They can't hear you. The only way I'm letting you go is if you swear to go camping."
He was about to say more, I know he was, but all that came out of his mouth was a loud BLAM! After seeing the stunned and terrified look on his face, I realized that no, Elliot couldn't have made that sound. That was ridiculous.
A gun could, though. A gun that, I saw when I turned my head, was in the hands of a very angry woman in a bathrobe. My mother.
She aimed the handgun again. "That was a warning!" she barked, eyes wild, teeth bared like a true Mama Bear. "I suggest you let go of my daughter right the fuck now, or the next one goes in your shoulder!" she screamed. And Mom's aim was steady. She could do it.
Elliot was rough and scary, but even he knew he couldn't do much against a gun. He let go of my shoulders, turned around and ran for it. Mom kept the gun aimed at his retreating back until he was properly out of sight. Then she sighed heavily, anger vanishing from her face as she came out to guide me back inside and hug me close. "You're not hurt, are you? What all did he do?" she asked, putting the gun on the table and patting me down.
I just stared. It was a stupid thing to think about in retrospect, but I was still in shock. "Mom, I'm fine but--where did you get--?"
Mom smiled tiredly. "Your grandfather took me shooting when I was about your age. I've always kept a weapon in the house in case of a burglar. Never thought I'd have to use it to threaten one of your classmates."
"Mom, the neighbors must have heard." I realized with horror. "The police will--"
"I don't care. Once you and I tell them the how and why, I won't be the only one in trouble."
Author: gehayi
Background: From Chapter 22, in response to Nora passively standing by and letting Patch drag her into a clearly dangerous situation
Notes from author: Assertiveness Training
The clerk looked to Patch.
'She wants a nonsmoking room,' Patch said.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Nora shouted, deliberately yelling so that not only the desk clerk but his supervisor and any other guests that might be in this miserable hole in the wall would hear every word she said. "How does 'Do you have a cell phone?' translate to 'I want a non-smoking room'? I don't want a room! And I sure as fuck do not want to share a room with YOU! You offered me a ride home. In case you didn't notice, asshole, this hotel is not my home!"
Patch glared at her, looking as if he suddenly found her face very punchable.
The desk clerk, unfortunately, seemed unfazed. "Hey. If you kids are going to fight, you need to do it more quietly."
Nora clenched her fists. "You're not serious. You are not seriously pretending that this is a...a lover's spat. This dickwad is NOT my boyfriend. He is my kidnapper!"
"You got in the car with me!" Patch exclaimed, his expression so smugly self-righteous that Nora had to make a physical effort to keep herself from punching him.
Unfortunately, she was in the presence of two guys who were convinced that they were strong, manly, completely reasonable...and dealing with one of those silly emotional womenfolk. Any fury at such a reaction would only make them shut down more. She didn't care if Patch didn't listen--in fact, at this point, she wondered if he had ever heard one word that she said--but she did need the desk clerk's good will. At least for now.
She hit the bell on the counter. Hard. "If you can't help me, then I want to speak to the manager. I want to speak to"--she made a wild guess--"to him now."
"Her name's Inez Herrera," muttered the desk clerk, sounding sulky. Nora could read the unspoken message in his eyes: Geez, why you gotta be such a bitch when the guy just wants to show you a good time? You're not that gorgeous, y'know. "Hang on. I'll call her." Then, unbelievably, he turned to Patch and said, "Sorry about this."
Typical, Nora thought. A guy drags a girl to a hotel against her will...and he gets the apologies.
"It's not your fault," Patch said, lifting his chin in a manner that suggested he was suffering nobly. "And it's not your fault, either, Nora. I know that sometimes girls get a bit nervous before they have sex for the first time--"
"I never said I'd have sex with you!" Nora said, astonished. "You never even asked me!"
"Why would you mind?" Patch said, smirking at her. "I guarantee that you wouldn't have any complaints...if you know what I mean."
Nora crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, Patch Adams--if you were the last guy on earth, I wouldn't fuck you. Yeah, you're hot. So WHAT? I don't like you!" She glanced at the desk clerk, who was staring."Haven't you called the manager yet?"
The clerk mumbled some incomprehensible syllables and hastily dialed an interior line. "Hello, Ms. Herrera? Yeah. I need your help at the desk....No. No, the customer is insisting on talking to you. I'm sorry. Uh-huh." He hung up and gave Nora a look that she would have described as Epic Martyrdom. "She'll be right out."
Ms. Herrera did materialize from the office behind the desk only seconds later. She proved to be a tall biracial Latina and who looked as if she'd coined the term "no-nonsense." She was also not in the least impressed with Patch or his indignant protests that he was just trying to be a nice fucking guy, and damn, Nora, what's your childhood trauma, just because you've got sex on the brain 24/7, that doesn't mean that I do...
"Oh, you did NOT do that," Nora interrupted. "You did NOT just tell me that I'm the bad one for not wanting to put myself in a position where I could get pressured into sex or get raped."
Patch rolled his eyes. "Oh, because I look like a rapist. Right."
Nora edged a bit closer to Ms. Herrera's side of the counter, but her voice was clear, confident and unafraid. "Hey, you're the one who drove me out to the middle of nowhere, refused to let me call my mom on your cell, and started arranging for us to share a double room even though you knew I didn't want to share a room with you at all. If the Bundy fits..." And she shrugged her shoulders, trying to convey with one movement just how little she cared whether Patch was upset or not.
She saw the chaotic rage form in his eyes. "Just remember, Nora. I know where you live. And I can get in any time I want to. So it would have been smarter to be nice to me."
Nora felt rather than saw Ms. Herrera press a cell phone into her hand. "--your emergency?" the operator was saying as Nora lifted it to her ear.
"Give me that phone."
Nora looked at Patch, who, in his rage, more nearly resembled a gargoyle or demon than the guardian angel he claimed to be, decided that discretion was the better part of everything, and bolted for the other side of the counter.
She didn't know how he could move so fast. One second, he was staring at her; the next, he had flung the cell phone against the wall, shattering it, and was grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her.
"Who the hell do you think you are, doing this to me?" he panted. "I try to help a girl get over her repressions and this is how she repays me?"
On each of the last six words, he gave her arm an extra twist. At the first twist, Nora whimpered. By the third, she was using her good arm to drive an elbow into his ribs.
Patch laughed. "You really think you can hurt me?"
Nora looked out of the corner of her eye at the desk and noted Ms. Herrera and the desk clerk were gone. Great. And she didn't see any way that she could hurt the creep, either. Even better.
Although...she didn't have to cause pain to cause damage, did she?
Not letting herself think about it--if she thought about this for one second, she'd be paralyzed by fear--Nora deliberately tensed and then fell backwards.
It surprised Patch, who evidently hadn't expected Nora to do anything proactive. He fell awkwardly, conking his head on the corner of the front desk in the process.
Nora scrambled to her feet and fled behind the counter. It wasn't much shelter from Patch's wrath, but it was all she had.
Patch managed to pull himself into a vertical position. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. "Oh, you bitch," he whispered. "Oh, you are gonna be so sorry you did that."
That glaze in his eyes said that he couldn't see straight--and, because he couldn't feel pain, he probably didn't know what was wrong. But he wouldn't want her to know anything was wrong. Patch didn't deal in vulnerabilities. If she could just use that pride of his...
"Like hell I am," Nora said loudly. Then she ducked, dodging toward the door of the office manager as she did so. As she pressed against the door, she heard a faint click.
Had someone heard something? Or was she being locked out?
Nora held herself still, desperately hoping that Patch would zoom in the direction of her voice rather than toward the door. If his hearing was that good, then she was dead.
He ran toward the last loud sound--her voice. While he did remember to try to dodge around the counter, he miscalculated by about a foot.
Nora didn't dare stand up to see what the hell was happening--his vision would surely be less woozy now--but the thud he made as he fell to the floor was deeply satisfying. Reaching up, she slowly turned the handle of the office door.
The door opened a crack. Then Nora heard the three sweetest word she'd ever heard: "Get in here."
Thinking dire thoughts about nominal adults who would leave a kid at the mercy of an abusive bully, Nora complied. She didn't like these people, and she sure didn't trust them...but a door between her and an increasingly enraged Patch would be a very good thing indeed. And maybe, just maybe, they had a phone.
Once Nora had crept into the office (yes, literally crawled--she wasn't taking any chances on Patch spotting her) and had locked the door once more, she turned to Ms. Herrera. "He broke your phone."
"I know. I saw. That's why I ran in here. It has a lock and a phone. I called 911 back; the police should be here soon. Would you like to call your parents?"
Nora nodded. Now that she was safe--or at least safe-ish--she was beginning to shake.
She wobbled over to Ms. Herrera's desk as if her legs were made of cooked spaghetti. It took her several attempts to call her mother; her hand was trembling too much. Every time she tried to hit one button, she ended up hitting another.
"Mom?" she said in a quavering voice when her mother finally picked up. "Mom...I'm stranded at..." And she named the hotel. "I got conned out my coat and my cell phone was in the coat, and I was in the middle of a bad neighborhood, and this creep I know from school named Patch--well, he found me and offered to take me straight home, and I knew I couldn't get home on my own because I didn't know where I was, and he brought me here and then he tried to pressure me into going upstairs with him, and he lost it when I said--well, shouted--"No," and he tried to beat me up and he said he could get at me any time because he can always get in, and...Mom, please, please don't hate me, please just come get me!" And she burst into hot, choking tears.
***
Patch, fortunately, had no self-control. He was battering at the office door and alternating between screeching threatens and smarming at Nora in what he probably thought of as a suave and charming manner when the cops and Nora's mother arrived. He was very surprised to be handcuffed and read his rights.
Nora's mother hugged her as, with the occasional sob, she told the story of Patch's sexual harassment, stalking, threats and breaking and entering.
"He scared me," she said. "He scared me a lot. But Coach kept pushing him at me, and so did my best friend, and Patch himself seemed to think he was perfect for me, and...I don't know. Everyone wanted me to have him as a boyfriend...well, except for me and my therapist. And I don't like her, Mom. She makes me feel like the dumbest person on the planet, someone who can't even think without her help. It makes me want to go out and do the opposite of whatever she recommends, just to show her I'm not as dumb as she thinks. I guess I am, though."
One of the cops who was taking notes--an Asian-American woman whom Nora briefly imagined delivering a flying kick to Patch's head--looked up at her. "Did you ever have anything to eat when he was around?"
"Um...yeah. We had spaghetti after he stole my key and wouldn't give it back until I agreed to let him in--I know it was dumb, Mom, but I was afraid of what he'd do if I didn't. And there wasn't anyone else around. And I think there's been some coffee and soda. You know, just normal stuff."
The cop scowled. "And how did you feel afterward?"
"Relaxed. Calmer, like I'd been wrong about him. And"--she blushed--"I couldn't stop thinking about how hot he was and how much I wanted him. And then I'd wake up the next day and feel scared all over again. I don't know what's wrong with me!"
"I'd lay odds," said the cop, "that he's been dosing you with some kind of date rape drug. Something with sedative properties, probably, but that stimulates the pleasure center of the brain. I don't think he's used drugs on you every time you've met--but I'd be suspicious of the times that you had something to eat or drink when he was around. The fact that your behavior has been so up and down gives me the impression that he's been fumbling for the right dosage. We'll have to do some checking, of course...but it really doesn't sound like you've been in control for a lot of this."
Nora's mother pulled her daughter close for a moment. "What do we do now? Aside from pressing charges, which we're certainly doing."
"You might want to transfer Nora to another school," the cop said. "I don't like the idea of her going back to that biology class and being forced to work with her attacker. Change the locks on your house. Be sure that whatever locksmith you pick has a decent reputation and doesn't have any employees named Cipriano or that answer to Patch's description. And don't go home until the locks are changed. Get a new phone number and tell the people who matter the new number. Don't tell Patch. Then set up an answering machine at the old number, and keep and record every message. Don't call him back. Don't tell him to stop calling. Don't interact with him at all. That's what he wants.
"And you might want to avoid Vee for a while, Nora. I'm all for girls being friends--but pushing a relationship with a guy you're afraid of and that you both think might hurt or kill you? That's not friendship."
"Way ahead of you there," Nora mumbled, closing her eyes. She couldn't take much more.
If the cop said any more, Nora didn't hear it. Shortly after that, however, her mother led her out of the hotel toward their car.
Patch, unbelievably, was still there.
He was cuffed and in the back of one of the police cruisers (the one directly between them and the parking lot, as it happened) but he was still trying to charm one of the detectives...probably the partner of the cop who had spoken to her, Nora thought. The detective--a handsome black man with a long face and large eyes--was listening to Patch with an expression of intense concentration.
"It's not her fault," Patch was saying as Nora and her mother. "You know how skittish women can get, especially if it's their first time. But I had no idea that she was going to lose it so completely. I just asked for a double room because--well, you can't even turn over in a twin bed! She was exhausted and in shock because she'd just been robbed and soaking wet. Of course I wanted her to be comfortable. Wouldn't you?"
Nora stared. It wasn't as if she'd expected him to admit everything that he'd done, but she hadn't expected bare-faced lying.
Pulling away from her mother, she strode over to Patch. "You are so full of it."
"There, you see?" asked Patch in a tone that mourned for misunderstood innocents everywhere. "And all I was trying to do was help."
"Uh-huh. Is that why you nearly broke my arm? Or why you threatened me and said that you could get into my house at any time? Because you thought that violence and intimidation were helpful?"
The cop looked as if he would quite like to hear the answer as well.
"You don't understand, Nora," Patch said patiently. "I know you as no one else can. I know everything about you."
"Newsflash--I don't want you to! That's creepy!"
"You don't really think that," Patch said, a smug smile curving his lips. "You want me even now. And you're going to admit that, eventually."
"If you come anywhere near me and try to make me admit it, I'll hit you with enough pepper spray to make you sneeze your face off," Nora snapped.
"Oooh, kinky!"
Nora shook her head, amazed. "You don't get it, do you? You're not getting out of this. I'm not going to drop the charges. And Mom's not going to drop the charges. I've told you a million different ways to leave me alone. You're obnoxious and you haven't listened. Now I'm going to use the courts to say the same thing. Even if you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to them."
"Nice way to treat someone who loves you!"
"You don't love me," Nora said. "You just want me to think that I'm in love and that you love me back because you think you'll get what you want that way. But that's not going to happen. Not now, not ever."
She started to walk away...then paused, looking back.
"Angelic, my eye," she said in a mocking tone. "You're about as angelic as Lucifer."
The cop needed two more police officers and a straitjacket to hold Patch down.
Onward to: Spite Fics (Part 2)
Back to: Final Assessment
Return to: Table of Contents
Author:
das_mervin
Background: A GIF in which Castiel blows Patch into chunky salsa, posted for Chapter 3
Notes from author: I am just going to leave this here.
Author:
propinquus
Background: From Chapter 3, in which we see how the potential mates trait conversation would have gone if Patch had redeeming characteristics
I sat there in an awkward silence as Coach stared expectantly at me. It wasn't anyone's business as to what traits I looked for in a potential mate.
"Well?" asked Coach with a maddeningly smug look on his face.
"Why should she have to answer that?" Patch demanded out of the silence, much to my surprise. "That's not really a question pertaining to Biology now, is it? And it's a personal question, if you ask me."
I could hear whispers throughout the class at Patch's objection to Coach's demands.
"Well, Mr. Cipriano, what do you look for in a potential mate, since you so kindly volunteered?" Coach was such a jerk; why was he even allowed to teach at this school?
Patch shrugged, unaffected. "I guess I would want her to be somewhat attractive. There has to be some level of physical attraction. It'd be nice if she had a good personality, and if she was relatively intelligent, too."
"Now let's say you're at a party. what would you do if you saw such a girl that met your criteria; how would you know if she was interested?"
Patch raised his eyebrows, bemused. "Well the obvious thing would be to go up to her to strike up a conversation. If she was interested, she'd keep the conversation going. If not, then I'd go pursue someone else. Simple as that."
Coach made a face, displeased at Patch's calm demeanor. He cleared his throat and turned back to the whiteboard.
"Yes. Well. Anyway..." He continued on with the lesson.
"Thanks for that," I whispered to Patch.
"No problem," he responded. "That's a pretty rude question for a teacher to ask a student, especially a female one. But if you don't mind me asking- and it's fine if you don't- what traits do you look for in a guy?"
I felt my face redden. I shrugged. "It's fine. I guess I really haven't thought of it. It's just embarrassing when a teacher calls you out in front of a class."
He nodded. "Understandable. It's too bad you haven't thought of them, though."
"Why?" I quickly glanced at him.
He fiddled with his pencil a little. "I suppose I was hoping that I might fit into your expectations. And if it means anything at all to you-" he was staring lightly into my eyes at this point "-but you fit into all of my criteria. I'm serious, Nora. You're really attractive, and I can tell you're pretty smart based off of what I've seen you accomplish in this class. You've been pretty nice to me, too. Especially since I was such an ass the first day. I guess I was trying to come off as cool, but all I came off as was a complete jerk. I'm sorry for that."
I felt relieved; so there was a good side to this guy after all.
"Tell you what," he continued. "Why don't I take you out to lunch after school? Your choice?"
I smiled. "That'd be really nice."
Author: mogseltof
Background: Chapter 3, in response to Coach's humiliating Nora in front of the entire class
'The blood vessels in Nora's face are widening and her skin is warming," Patch said. 'She knows she's being evaluated. She likes the attention, but she's not sure how to handle it.'
“I’m sorry?” I asked, jerking back from him in revulsion. “When did I become a tray of mince in the freezer at the supermarket?”
He smirked at me, giving me an itch in my arm to smack him upside the head and wipe it off his face.
“And you know, it is possible to say ‘blushing’ instead of describing the process of the nervous and emotional reflex that causes it,” I said, all pretence at civility dying with my embarrassment, quickly replaced with burning anger. “We’re all senior level biology students, we do know what it is.”
The class tittered, amused at the almost turn of the tables.
“I’d like to present my observations, sir,” I said airily, waving my hand in the air like an eight year old wanting to answer a question. “I select my potential boyfriends based on their prettiness and resemblance to a carrot and how stupid they are so they don’t outshine me!”
I got more of a laugh this time, and when I looked at Fitzpatrick, his smirk was gone, replaced by a flash of anger in his eyes and a frown. He reached forward, placing his hand on my forearm. I looked at it pointedly, giving him a cool glare. When he didn’t remove it I tried to shake it off, but he merely slid it down to my wrist as if holding me there.
Mistake, if that was what he wanted. I made a circular motion with my hand and wrist, forcing his hand to let go, before sweeping my notebook and cluttered pens into a pile. I stood up, holding them with one arm.
“If you’ll excuse me sir,” I said politely. “I need to go make a report for continued harassment after repeated requests to stop.”
I didn’t bother to wait for an answer before slinging my satchel over one shoulder and stalking out of the room. As I left, there was a muffled outburst of laughter, a supporting shout from Vee, a protest from Patch and a smile on my face.
What an arsehole.
Author: winki_pop
Background: Chapter 3, written to have Coach called out on his misogynistic teaching methods
"you'll see that children are the key to the survival of our species. And the more children you have, the greater your contribution to the gene pool”
"...Coach McConaugh?"
Appearing at the door of the science room was Principal Sarah May, a woman in her 40s with long brown hair and a black pants suit. Her face was grave as she walked to the front of the classroom, staring out at the students.
"Coach McConaugh, what I'm about to tell you is very serious," she began, "and something all the students need to hear. I am hereby suspending you from this particular class and from teaching at Maine Local High School. We have received a number of complaints from students and their parents about you behaviour in class and the subject matter you are bringing into the classroom."
She then looked straight at Patch with narrowed eyes. "We've also received a complaint about a male student sexually harassing a fellow female student, which is a very serious offence."
Patch gritted his teeth at the principal, but she only looked back at him with disdain.
"Coach McConaugh, I need you to leave the school premises immediately. You are to pack up your desk and security will escort you out."
Coach McConaugh was no doubt appalled, his arms slumped by his sides and shoulders stiff. His brows then furrowed and his lips pursed. "You can't kick me out!" he barked, "I was appointed to this class!"
"Well, we have come to see that we have made a truly grave mistake," Principal May replied.
"This is bullshit, I'm not going anywhere!"
"Well, if we're gonna have a problem with this, Coach, I could just call security now if you like?"
Coach McConaugh huffed irritably through his nose. He knew he had been defeated and causing anymore trouble was going to result in just that. He quickly stormed out of class while the rest of the students looked on wide-eyed and whispering to one another.
"I'm sorry to everyone here that this class has been such a distressing experience for you all," apologised Principal May. "We will soon have a replacement for this class, but until then it will not run until further notice. You may all leave and continue working in the library on any other work you may have."
The students were no doubt relieved to ditch out on this class, practically racing out of the room.
Principal May, meanwhile, stopped Patch before he could make it to the door.
"As for you, you'll be joining me in my office," she told him bluntly. "We have a lot to discuss about your behaviour."
Patch looked like he was about to snarl at her.
"And if you think you can push me around like some poor pathetic woman," she spat at him, "then I don't think you know me all that well, Patch…"
Author: gehayi
Background: From Chapter 4, written in response to Patch's behavior, and what Nora's options are to deal with it
Notes from author: Resolve
Patch wouldn't shut up during the quiz. Quiz, hah. It was easy to pass one of those things; all you had to do was echo back Coach's sexist bullshit. I'd tried writing down actual information earlier in the year, but I'd given up after my facts--which were more accurate than anything Coach had ever dreamed of spouting--got me a couple of Fs. I'd had to do a ton of extra credit to wipe out those grades, too.
After that, I got the message. Shut the fuck up, little girl, and don't bother boring me with facts because my mind's already made up. Just repeat everything I say and you'll get an A...which, after all, is what colleges look for. Who cares if you've actually learned anything?
Oh, yeah. I was just a little pissed about this. And every quiz just made it more annoying. I really did not need Patch whispering in my ear, least of all in that mock-solicitous tone of his.
"Did you have a rough night?"
I could have told him--though I didn't--that having a car accident that nearly totaled my car and then mysteriously un-happened was preying on my nerves a little. But that was none of his fucking business. The last thing I wanted this creep to know was how rattled I was.
So I tried ignoring him--you know, what parents and teachers always tell you to do to bullies. It doesn't work, of course. Bullies don't think, "Oh, well, she's not interested, so I'll go on to someone else." Their attitude is, "Goddamn it, I'll FORCE you to pay attention to me!"
So I didn't dare wholly ignore the asshole. My car had been destroyed and repaired in seconds; my body--and my life--could be smashed just as easily, and there was no guarantee he'd put either back together so that they worked the way they were supposed to.
"You look so tired, Nora."
Amazing how much "tired" sounded like "weak." And "helpless."
Also, bullies often read someone ignoring them as fear. They're usually right, too.
If there was one thing I couldn't afford to show, it was fear. I'd been silent too long. Never mind that we were taking a quiz and we were supposed to be quiet. And he was crowding me--his fingers brushing at wisps of my hair and lightly touching the skin of my arm as I tried to write, his leg pressing against mine. All of it sending the same signal: I can have you any time that I want. You're mine, bitch.
So I spoke to him. I mentioned that I'd spotted him at the library. I wanted him to know that yeah, I'd noticed what he was doing, no, I didn't like it, and no, I wasn't afraid to call him out on it. I didn't want him to see me as a threat; I was sure he'd take out anyone who was a real danger to him. But someone who was aware of what was going on and who had the guts to say, "Leave me ALONE!" might be more trouble than she was worth.
Of course, then he'd probably move on to some other girl who was even more vulnerable and more terrified than I was. And the cycle would start all over again.
Damn, I hated this.
I got up to turn in the quiz, hoping that Coach wouldn't decided that Patch had been whispering answers to me throughout the quiz. Never mind that I was one of the best students in class and Patch's only contribution to class had been the sexual harassment of yours truly. I was a girl. In Coach's eyes, that meant that I was dumber than Patch by default.
I turned to trudge back to my seat--and got a shock.
Patch looked so...boyish.
I don't mean that he was handsome or had a nice smile, though he was and he did. It was if he'd sloughed off the bad boy jacket and put on a charming-boy-and-ideal-student suit. He looked like every parents' dream date for their daughter.
No one looking at him would think of him as a sexually harassing stalker.
His smile grew just a hair wider as he gazed at me.
Okay. That was it. I needed backup.
I told Coach that I felt sick to my stomach and needed to go to the nurse's office before I threw up. All of which was true. I was getting such a creepy vibe from Patch that I felt as if I might hork up that minute. I guess I looked like that, too, because Coach let me go with a minimum of fuss.
I did go to the nurse, and I did lie down. But once I was lying on the cot, I called 911. (After all, I didn't have the regular number of the Coldwater, Michigan Police Department on speed-dial.)
Once I got transferred from the emergency number to the regular one, I spoke to an Officer Lewis. She sounded like a nice woman. She even sounded as if she believed that Patch was sexually harassing and stalking me.
The tough thing was proving it.
"Under Michigan law," she explained, "stalking is defined as 'a willful course of conduct involving repeated or continuing harassment of another individual that would cause a reasonable person to feel terrorized, frightened, intimidated, threatened, harassed, or molested, and that actually causes the victim to feel terrorized, frightened, intimidated, threatened, harassed, or molested.' That's straight from the statute.
"But that is how he's making me feel," I said, gripping my cell tightly. "He creeps me out. And he won't stop!"
"I know," she said glumly. "The problem is that he's a sixteen-year-old boy, and sixteen-year-old boys are known to brush against or run into girls just to get physical contact. They're certainly known for making sexual remarks. And no, that doesn't make his behavior any better. But it does mean that his behavior is within normal parameters for a teenaged boy. He's annoying, certainly--but he's not doing anything that most people--well, most men--would consider terrifying, frightening or intimidating. Quite a few judges and lawyers would probably say that he was trying to get your attention because he likes you."
"He doesn't like me! He thinks of me as vulnerable! He said so!"
"And that's creepy, yes. Unfortunately, having creepily bad taste isn't illegal. Or an indication of stalking." Then she sighed. "Look. I agree with you. I think that your intuition is absolutely right--Patch is bad news. And I think that your teacher is an idiot for forcing you to sit next to him. But he hasn't hurt you. He hasn't threatened to hurt you. He hasn't made a series of non-stop calls or emails to your house. He hasn't approached you repeatedly in public places or public buildings--and there's no way that we can stop him from attending school or going to the library. As far we know, he hasn't followed you to your house or camped out on your parents' property. He's creepy...but within widely accepted parameters for young and/or socially clueless men.
"Personally, I'd like to give him a smack with a wet barracuda and then tell him to stay the hell away from you. But he's not breaking Michigan law. Not yet, anyway."
"What about federal law? It's a federal crime, too, right?"
"Yes. But only under certain circumstances. A stalker can't cross state, tribal or international lines--personally, by mail, by email or by cyberstalking. And he can't stalk on federal land like national parks or military bases.
"But none of that applies in your case. You're both here in Michigan. And even if you were in a different state and he followed you there...well, under federal law, it's not enough for you to feel harassed or to be afraid. Patch would have to follow across state lines with the intent to kill, injure, harass, or intimidate you. Proving intent to harass and intent to intimidate is tough; stalkers often don't see any reason for their victims to not welcome their attentions."
"So my best bet would be to hope that he tried to hurt or kill me?" This was insane. I couldn't have heard that right.
"That--and that you had video and audio records of him attacking you at least twice. Twice or more indicates a pattern of behavior, you see."
"That's. Fucking. DEMENTED!"
"Yes. It is."
Hearing her admit this didn't make me feel any better.
"And it gets worse," she continued. "Because he's sixteen, seventeen, somewhere in there, right? Well, stalking in Michigan is a misdemeanor. The penalty for the first offense is one year and/or $1,000 fine, and up to five years probation. He probably wouldn't get a year in prison--not at his age. Unless he hurt or killed you, he'd most likely get a year in juvie, and maybe a year's probation. When he turned eighteen, that record would be sealed. No matter how much stalking and sexual harassment he committed, the case would disappear. There'd be nothing to tell any law enforcement agency that Patch had ever been a stalker...and that he'd probably become one again.
"I'm so sorry, Nora. But there isn't a thing I can do." And she hung up.
I stared at the cellphone in my hand, wondering when my life had turned into a horror movie.
Author: das_mervin
Background: A GIF in which Patch is destroyed via Supernatural means, made for Chapter 4
Notes from author: With apologies to Silent Hill 3.
Author: mancalledtrue
Background: From Chapter 4, as a death fic for Patch
Notes from author: And now, some fantasizing. It was this or a Demon: The Fallen reference, and I figured more of you would get this one
As Patch left the house, he could hear a sound in the bushes to his left. For a moment, he just let it slide. When he heard it again, however, his eyebrow twitched. It definitely sounded like it was coming closer.
And then something cut off the light coming from the streetlights up ahead. He squinted and looked towards that direction.
A tall, muscled man stood before him, a sword balanced on one shoulder. The man had white hair, a cocky grin, and a pair of pistols hanging off his hips. The wind caught the long red coat he wore, revealing several other weapons hanging off his belt.
"So, you're this 'Patch' kid I keep hearing about, huh?" the man said.
Patch was about to answer when something crossed his senses. Whoever this guy was, it wasn't a human being... He crossed his arms and said, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm doing my job. Heard about some 'fallen angel' running around this town, figured it was something worth looking into. Guess I was wrong. Damn, I hate it when I'm wrong." The man chuckled, but there wasn't any humor in it. "Trish is gonna laugh her ass off when I get home."
Patch felt his spine go cold. This guy knew what he was... and was casual about it. What was going on?
Only then did he realize he'd tipped his hand too far. The man looked up again, meeting his eyes... and not even blinking. "Oh. I guess I was right after all." He laughed, and this time there was humor in it. "You gotta be kidding me. YOU, a fallen angel? Oh, come ON! Did Hell's standards go down a few dozen points or something?!?"
"Who the hell are you?" Patch said, his fist clenching.
"Don't even bother asking." And then the man tossed his sword into the ground, point-first, and drew his pistols from their holsters. "Time to go to work, boys."
Patch had never really felt afraid of guns. What could they do? He only looked human, after all.
But when the bullets tore through his right shoulder, he realized that something was very wrong. A third bullet blew out the sinew, and his right arm fell to the ground.
Fallen angels don't feel pain, but that didn't make the sudden dismemberment any less frightening. "W-What the-"
He didn't get any more words out. Before he could do anything to stop it, the man holstered his guns and brought his sword up in an arc, slashing Patch's vocal cords out. "Shut up, kid," he said.
The sword came around the other way, and Patch lost all feeling in his legs. A second later, the sky swung down in an arc, and he realized that it was because the man had just cut him in half.
The last thought in Patch's mind was profanity. The last thing that went through his head was a bullet.
----
Dante cleaned off his sword as he trotted away from the scene, a good two minutes ahead of the cops. They'd paid him well for this job, saying something about "that mind-raping motherfucker" and giving him the address.
"Goddamn marionettes were more of a challenge," the demon slayer said as he slung Rebellion over his shoulder once more. "Now..." He unfolded a checklist and marked off Patch's name. "When's the next bus to Forks?"
Author: albion_witch
Background: From Chapter 10, in response to the flippant treatment of Vee's shoplifting attempt
Notes from author: A brief spite fic
Vee looked up and nearly dropped her bundle of underwear. Behind her was a large, middle-aged woman with frizzled red hair and she had a hand on the teenager's shoulder.
"I would like you to come with me," she ordered.
Vee turned to Nora. "At least that solves the mystery of your stalker. Just some rent-a-cop."
The woman then grabbed Vee's shoulder and jerked her closer.
"You're in a lot of trouble already," she said sternly, "so it would behoove you to keep your mouth shut. We have several witnesses confirming that you were peeling off clearance tags and putting on regular priced merchandise."
"Well, they make good stuff so expensive," Vee grumbled, despite Nora mouthing "no".
"It is still shoplifting," the woman continued, "and if my daughters pulled that same stunt, they wouldn't be able to sit for a week and that would be considered just a slap on the wrist."
"Are you gonna call my mom?" Nora asked as Vee glared at her.
"I have to," the woman answered. "You two have become my responsibility right now."
She turned Vee around and reapplied her grip on the girl's shoulder as she motioned them to head towards the back of the store. Vee scowled the whole way with Nora meekly following.
Author: gnosticdiva
Background: From Chapter 14, in response to how Nora's mother was written as an inattentive and neglectful parent
Notes from author: A Mother's Love
"Mom, have you ever been afraid of Dad?"
Mrs. Gray stopped cold at the question. She knew she wasn't imagining how lost and frightened her little girl's voice sounded. She turned to gaze at Nora. "Baby, where's this coming from?"
"I just..." Nora was flushed, as if guilty of something. "I just wanna know," the teen finished weakly.
"Not at first," Mom replied, her voice soft. "At first, he seemed a little... intense, but sweet. He was always saying nice things and giving me little gifts. Calling me all the time." Mrs. Gray frowned at the memory. "I was young. Insecure. Lonely. So I fell for the attention he gave me, how he made me feel like the only girl in the world. I thought... given time, I'd love him as much as he seemed to love me."
Nora swallowed hard. "But then...?"
"He convinced me to have sex without a condom. I didn't want to, but he wheedled me into it and I got pregnant. I told him that my parents wouldn't approve of their only daughter being pregnant and unwed, so he proposed. We had a quickie wedding before I started to show, and then you were born." Mrs. Gray tucked a strand of Nora's hair behind the girl's ear. "No matter what, baby, you were *never* a mistake to me.
"But... a short time after that's when the beatings started. I was a young mother, alone and scared, who hadn't known the man she'd married. From the time you were born, I had grown from wary to terrified of him, and learned to avoid him whenever he drank heavily. It was a relief when he died last year."
Mrs. Gray then steeled Nora with a look. "Why do you ask?" When Nora opened her mouth to speak, her mother added, "And don't tell me you 'just wanna know', again. There's... someone who's scaring you, isn't there?"
Nora stared into her mother's open, honest face, saw the lines that aged her prematurely. Her gaze dropped to the bruise on her mother's neck; from an incident years before where Nora's father had attempted to strangle her mother, and the damage had not completely healed.
Nora's face crumpled and she broke down into a sob. Her mother pulled her gently into a comforting embrace.
When the tears began to subside, Nora told her mother everything. About Patch. About her mysterious stalker. Her suspicions that it was Patch doing the stalking. Her fear. How her teachers and friends had laughed at and dismissed her terror as an idle teenage brain hopped up on adolescent hormones.
Mrs. Gray's eyes were dark as a thundercloud. "I've had experience with the police here. They won't help you. But I'll do what I can as your mother." She gently brushed away her daughter's tears. "We'll move to a nice new place in two weeks, sweetheart. Far away from Patch, and we'll start a new life there." Mrs. Gray's glance around the house was cold. "I never liked this place, anyway."
"What do I do for the next two weeks?" Nora asked, sniffling. "I have to got to school and... and... P-patch will be there."
"Go to school, like normal, for next week. Don't go out at night. Stay in busy areas. If you're approached by this Patch kid, or anyone else who seems threatening or is attempting to isolate you, scream 'fire!' and make a scene." Mrs. Gray replied. "Just for one week, you need to hang in there for me. After next week, I'll take you out of school, and you and I will be joined at the hip to finish packing up. Ok?"
Nora nodded. "Mom... I... this is a lot of trouble for me. For you to go through, I mean."
Mrs. Gray smiled sadly at her daughter. "Oh, baby, *you* are not the problem here. No matter what anyone tells you, you don't deserve this and you're not overreacting. And I'm getting you out of here, because I'd be a bad mom if I didn't do *something* about it."
Nora's tears came afresh at her mother's words. "Oh, mom... I-I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, baby. I love you. Always."
Author: midoriri
Background: From Chapter 15, in response to Miss Greene's advice for Nora to avoid Patch being treated as something suspicious
"This boy, Patch." Miss Greene's voice was hard. "Stay away from him. Don't go anywhere alone with him, ever, an--what's the matter?"
As she had said that warning, I'd felt my eyes start to water. Hot tears fell rapidly from my eyes, and I started hiccuping, breathing harder than I'd been just a second ago.
Miss greene's stern, cold look was instantly replaced with one of concern. "Nora?"
"Help me!" I sobbed loudly, covering my face. A small part of me that was still able to think rationally wondered why I had asked her for help, but the other part of me, the part that was terrified, didn't listen. "Miss Greene, please, I--I'm trying to stay away!" I wailed. "But he won't leave me alone! I--I think he's stalking me, he keeps making these awful comments to me, he just scares me so much and no one does anything because they don't think it's that bad and even my best fucking friend doesn't care, and no one will help me and I'm scaaaared!" I screamed, falling to the floor in a crying, shaking ball. As I wept, I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, then felt arms go around me. It took a few moments for me to realize that Miss Greene was speaking softly.
That had been a trick my mother knew when I was little...I had no choice but to cry softer and softer til I stopped, so I could hear what Miss Greene was saying.
"Shhhh, sh-sh-shhh..." Miss Greene whispered, rubbing my back. It was amazing how much warmer she sounded than she had a minute ago. "Shhh, it's alright. I was afraid he would do this." That hard edge was back. "You're not the first girl he's tried to reel in."
"Wh-what?" I hicupped, looking up at her and wiping my eyes.
She wasn't listening. "Well, no more. No more of this...I can't stand back and watch him drive another maiden to tears and terrorize her before...claiming her like a trophy," she spat.
Was it my imagination, or was she glowing?
"What are you--?" I began to ask, but that moment, Miss Greene pulled away, and I was temporarily blinded by a flash of bright light. I screamed and covered my eyes--and a second later, I felt warmer. Safe. I felt--no, I knew Patch wouldn't be able to hurt me, not now, not ever again.
"Stay here, child," I heard a voice say. It sounded remarkably like Miss Greene, but there was a weird sound to it--like there were multiple Miss Greenes and they were all echoing. "I've set up a barrier around the house. His kind can't cross it...When I'm through with him, he will not trouble anyone ever again."
I heard a rush of air, the sound of wings flapping, a feather brushed against my cheek--and then she was gone.
Author: zelda_queen
Background: From Chapter 17, in response to Nora lying to the police to allow Patch to get away with his despicable behavior
"He spread his hands. 'It's a pretty basic question. But if you want me to get more specific, I can. When I was in high school, I only offered rides to girls I was interested in. Let's carry that a step further. What's your relationship with your bio partner ... outside the classroom?'
I raised my eyebrows. 'You really want to know that? Get out a pencil and a notebook, this is going to take some time.'
Nearly half an hour later, it looked like everything was finally getting straightened out.
'So let me make sure I have this right,' said Detective Basso, looking over everything he had scribbled down. 'The night you argued with Marcie, he cornered you under the parking garage, chased you, pinned you to a pillar, and threatened you?'
''A guy like me could take advantage of a girl like you' were his exact words,' I replied.
'And you believe he stalked you to the library.'
'Twice, yes. And to the amusement park and the ladies' room of a restaurant...'
Detective Basso rubbed his forehead. 'Have you spoken to anyone else about this? Your mother, you teacher, anyone?'
'I told my biology teacher,' I said. 'He didn't listen at all. In fact, he ordered me to spend time outside of class tutoring Patch.' I scratched my nose as I tried to get my thoughts together. It was now or never to say what I knew. 'There's something else. A few weeks ago, my friend Vee was brutally attacked by a masked person. She believes that this person had the same height and build as Patch.'
'I see,' said Detective Basso. He flipped the notebook closed. 'Nora,' he said, 'I want you to understand that you were very brave to tell us this. This boy - Patch - he is not safe at all. The farther away from him you stay, the better off you'll be.'
I stared at the ground. 'That's what Miss Greene said," I muttered.
'Who's Miss Greene?'
'My new therapist. She warned me that Patch was dangerous and that I shouldn't go near him.' I twisted my hair and closed my eyes. 'At the time, I resented it. But now...'
'I understand.'
'Detective Basso.' Detective Holstijic stood near the window. I had nearly forgotten about him, he had been so quiet. He must have been keeping watch. 'There's a black van pulling into the driveway.'
Detective Basso frowned. 'Nora, is that your mother's car?'
'No.'
'Were you expecting visitors?'
I cringed. 'Yes. It's Patch. After he drove me home, he insisted I let him take me out. I told him I didn't want to, but he didn't listen! I'm so sorry!' Oh god, they must think I'm so stupid. I should have tried harder to refuse Patch. What the hell?
'Basso,' said Holstijic, 'he's heading up the driveway.'
'Fantastic,' said Detective Basso. 'I have a few questions for this clown. Nora, I think you'd better wait upstairs until your date goes home.'
'Right,' I said. I started for the stairs, but paused when Detective Basso called my name.
'Don't worry about it, kid,' he said. 'It's not your fault. You did your best, we'll take it from here.'"
Author: midoriri
Background: From Chapter 20, in response to Nora's mother failing to notice that her daughter was clearly being assaulted on the front porch
"I'll call the police." I had no idea how I said it so bravely. My breathing was rapid and shallow, my hands clammy.
"Are you going to shout for them? They can't hear you. The only way I'm letting you go is if you swear to go camping."
He was about to say more, I know he was, but all that came out of his mouth was a loud BLAM! After seeing the stunned and terrified look on his face, I realized that no, Elliot couldn't have made that sound. That was ridiculous.
A gun could, though. A gun that, I saw when I turned my head, was in the hands of a very angry woman in a bathrobe. My mother.
She aimed the handgun again. "That was a warning!" she barked, eyes wild, teeth bared like a true Mama Bear. "I suggest you let go of my daughter right the fuck now, or the next one goes in your shoulder!" she screamed. And Mom's aim was steady. She could do it.
Elliot was rough and scary, but even he knew he couldn't do much against a gun. He let go of my shoulders, turned around and ran for it. Mom kept the gun aimed at his retreating back until he was properly out of sight. Then she sighed heavily, anger vanishing from her face as she came out to guide me back inside and hug me close. "You're not hurt, are you? What all did he do?" she asked, putting the gun on the table and patting me down.
I just stared. It was a stupid thing to think about in retrospect, but I was still in shock. "Mom, I'm fine but--where did you get--?"
Mom smiled tiredly. "Your grandfather took me shooting when I was about your age. I've always kept a weapon in the house in case of a burglar. Never thought I'd have to use it to threaten one of your classmates."
"Mom, the neighbors must have heard." I realized with horror. "The police will--"
"I don't care. Once you and I tell them the how and why, I won't be the only one in trouble."
Author: gehayi
Background: From Chapter 22, in response to Nora passively standing by and letting Patch drag her into a clearly dangerous situation
Notes from author: Assertiveness Training
The clerk looked to Patch.
'She wants a nonsmoking room,' Patch said.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Nora shouted, deliberately yelling so that not only the desk clerk but his supervisor and any other guests that might be in this miserable hole in the wall would hear every word she said. "How does 'Do you have a cell phone?' translate to 'I want a non-smoking room'? I don't want a room! And I sure as fuck do not want to share a room with YOU! You offered me a ride home. In case you didn't notice, asshole, this hotel is not my home!"
Patch glared at her, looking as if he suddenly found her face very punchable.
The desk clerk, unfortunately, seemed unfazed. "Hey. If you kids are going to fight, you need to do it more quietly."
Nora clenched her fists. "You're not serious. You are not seriously pretending that this is a...a lover's spat. This dickwad is NOT my boyfriend. He is my kidnapper!"
"You got in the car with me!" Patch exclaimed, his expression so smugly self-righteous that Nora had to make a physical effort to keep herself from punching him.
Unfortunately, she was in the presence of two guys who were convinced that they were strong, manly, completely reasonable...and dealing with one of those silly emotional womenfolk. Any fury at such a reaction would only make them shut down more. She didn't care if Patch didn't listen--in fact, at this point, she wondered if he had ever heard one word that she said--but she did need the desk clerk's good will. At least for now.
She hit the bell on the counter. Hard. "If you can't help me, then I want to speak to the manager. I want to speak to"--she made a wild guess--"to him now."
"Her name's Inez Herrera," muttered the desk clerk, sounding sulky. Nora could read the unspoken message in his eyes: Geez, why you gotta be such a bitch when the guy just wants to show you a good time? You're not that gorgeous, y'know. "Hang on. I'll call her." Then, unbelievably, he turned to Patch and said, "Sorry about this."
Typical, Nora thought. A guy drags a girl to a hotel against her will...and he gets the apologies.
"It's not your fault," Patch said, lifting his chin in a manner that suggested he was suffering nobly. "And it's not your fault, either, Nora. I know that sometimes girls get a bit nervous before they have sex for the first time--"
"I never said I'd have sex with you!" Nora said, astonished. "You never even asked me!"
"Why would you mind?" Patch said, smirking at her. "I guarantee that you wouldn't have any complaints...if you know what I mean."
Nora crossed her arms over her chest. "Look, Patch Adams--if you were the last guy on earth, I wouldn't fuck you. Yeah, you're hot. So WHAT? I don't like you!" She glanced at the desk clerk, who was staring."Haven't you called the manager yet?"
The clerk mumbled some incomprehensible syllables and hastily dialed an interior line. "Hello, Ms. Herrera? Yeah. I need your help at the desk....No. No, the customer is insisting on talking to you. I'm sorry. Uh-huh." He hung up and gave Nora a look that she would have described as Epic Martyrdom. "She'll be right out."
Ms. Herrera did materialize from the office behind the desk only seconds later. She proved to be a tall biracial Latina and who looked as if she'd coined the term "no-nonsense." She was also not in the least impressed with Patch or his indignant protests that he was just trying to be a nice fucking guy, and damn, Nora, what's your childhood trauma, just because you've got sex on the brain 24/7, that doesn't mean that I do...
"Oh, you did NOT do that," Nora interrupted. "You did NOT just tell me that I'm the bad one for not wanting to put myself in a position where I could get pressured into sex or get raped."
Patch rolled his eyes. "Oh, because I look like a rapist. Right."
Nora edged a bit closer to Ms. Herrera's side of the counter, but her voice was clear, confident and unafraid. "Hey, you're the one who drove me out to the middle of nowhere, refused to let me call my mom on your cell, and started arranging for us to share a double room even though you knew I didn't want to share a room with you at all. If the Bundy fits..." And she shrugged her shoulders, trying to convey with one movement just how little she cared whether Patch was upset or not.
She saw the chaotic rage form in his eyes. "Just remember, Nora. I know where you live. And I can get in any time I want to. So it would have been smarter to be nice to me."
Nora felt rather than saw Ms. Herrera press a cell phone into her hand. "--your emergency?" the operator was saying as Nora lifted it to her ear.
"Give me that phone."
Nora looked at Patch, who, in his rage, more nearly resembled a gargoyle or demon than the guardian angel he claimed to be, decided that discretion was the better part of everything, and bolted for the other side of the counter.
She didn't know how he could move so fast. One second, he was staring at her; the next, he had flung the cell phone against the wall, shattering it, and was grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her.
"Who the hell do you think you are, doing this to me?" he panted. "I try to help a girl get over her repressions and this is how she repays me?"
On each of the last six words, he gave her arm an extra twist. At the first twist, Nora whimpered. By the third, she was using her good arm to drive an elbow into his ribs.
Patch laughed. "You really think you can hurt me?"
Nora looked out of the corner of her eye at the desk and noted Ms. Herrera and the desk clerk were gone. Great. And she didn't see any way that she could hurt the creep, either. Even better.
Although...she didn't have to cause pain to cause damage, did she?
Not letting herself think about it--if she thought about this for one second, she'd be paralyzed by fear--Nora deliberately tensed and then fell backwards.
It surprised Patch, who evidently hadn't expected Nora to do anything proactive. He fell awkwardly, conking his head on the corner of the front desk in the process.
Nora scrambled to her feet and fled behind the counter. It wasn't much shelter from Patch's wrath, but it was all she had.
Patch managed to pull himself into a vertical position. His eyes were glazed and unfocused. "Oh, you bitch," he whispered. "Oh, you are gonna be so sorry you did that."
That glaze in his eyes said that he couldn't see straight--and, because he couldn't feel pain, he probably didn't know what was wrong. But he wouldn't want her to know anything was wrong. Patch didn't deal in vulnerabilities. If she could just use that pride of his...
"Like hell I am," Nora said loudly. Then she ducked, dodging toward the door of the office manager as she did so. As she pressed against the door, she heard a faint click.
Had someone heard something? Or was she being locked out?
Nora held herself still, desperately hoping that Patch would zoom in the direction of her voice rather than toward the door. If his hearing was that good, then she was dead.
He ran toward the last loud sound--her voice. While he did remember to try to dodge around the counter, he miscalculated by about a foot.
Nora didn't dare stand up to see what the hell was happening--his vision would surely be less woozy now--but the thud he made as he fell to the floor was deeply satisfying. Reaching up, she slowly turned the handle of the office door.
The door opened a crack. Then Nora heard the three sweetest word she'd ever heard: "Get in here."
Thinking dire thoughts about nominal adults who would leave a kid at the mercy of an abusive bully, Nora complied. She didn't like these people, and she sure didn't trust them...but a door between her and an increasingly enraged Patch would be a very good thing indeed. And maybe, just maybe, they had a phone.
Once Nora had crept into the office (yes, literally crawled--she wasn't taking any chances on Patch spotting her) and had locked the door once more, she turned to Ms. Herrera. "He broke your phone."
"I know. I saw. That's why I ran in here. It has a lock and a phone. I called 911 back; the police should be here soon. Would you like to call your parents?"
Nora nodded. Now that she was safe--or at least safe-ish--she was beginning to shake.
She wobbled over to Ms. Herrera's desk as if her legs were made of cooked spaghetti. It took her several attempts to call her mother; her hand was trembling too much. Every time she tried to hit one button, she ended up hitting another.
"Mom?" she said in a quavering voice when her mother finally picked up. "Mom...I'm stranded at..." And she named the hotel. "I got conned out my coat and my cell phone was in the coat, and I was in the middle of a bad neighborhood, and this creep I know from school named Patch--well, he found me and offered to take me straight home, and I knew I couldn't get home on my own because I didn't know where I was, and he brought me here and then he tried to pressure me into going upstairs with him, and he lost it when I said--well, shouted--"No," and he tried to beat me up and he said he could get at me any time because he can always get in, and...Mom, please, please don't hate me, please just come get me!" And she burst into hot, choking tears.
***
Patch, fortunately, had no self-control. He was battering at the office door and alternating between screeching threatens and smarming at Nora in what he probably thought of as a suave and charming manner when the cops and Nora's mother arrived. He was very surprised to be handcuffed and read his rights.
Nora's mother hugged her as, with the occasional sob, she told the story of Patch's sexual harassment, stalking, threats and breaking and entering.
"He scared me," she said. "He scared me a lot. But Coach kept pushing him at me, and so did my best friend, and Patch himself seemed to think he was perfect for me, and...I don't know. Everyone wanted me to have him as a boyfriend...well, except for me and my therapist. And I don't like her, Mom. She makes me feel like the dumbest person on the planet, someone who can't even think without her help. It makes me want to go out and do the opposite of whatever she recommends, just to show her I'm not as dumb as she thinks. I guess I am, though."
One of the cops who was taking notes--an Asian-American woman whom Nora briefly imagined delivering a flying kick to Patch's head--looked up at her. "Did you ever have anything to eat when he was around?"
"Um...yeah. We had spaghetti after he stole my key and wouldn't give it back until I agreed to let him in--I know it was dumb, Mom, but I was afraid of what he'd do if I didn't. And there wasn't anyone else around. And I think there's been some coffee and soda. You know, just normal stuff."
The cop scowled. "And how did you feel afterward?"
"Relaxed. Calmer, like I'd been wrong about him. And"--she blushed--"I couldn't stop thinking about how hot he was and how much I wanted him. And then I'd wake up the next day and feel scared all over again. I don't know what's wrong with me!"
"I'd lay odds," said the cop, "that he's been dosing you with some kind of date rape drug. Something with sedative properties, probably, but that stimulates the pleasure center of the brain. I don't think he's used drugs on you every time you've met--but I'd be suspicious of the times that you had something to eat or drink when he was around. The fact that your behavior has been so up and down gives me the impression that he's been fumbling for the right dosage. We'll have to do some checking, of course...but it really doesn't sound like you've been in control for a lot of this."
Nora's mother pulled her daughter close for a moment. "What do we do now? Aside from pressing charges, which we're certainly doing."
"You might want to transfer Nora to another school," the cop said. "I don't like the idea of her going back to that biology class and being forced to work with her attacker. Change the locks on your house. Be sure that whatever locksmith you pick has a decent reputation and doesn't have any employees named Cipriano or that answer to Patch's description. And don't go home until the locks are changed. Get a new phone number and tell the people who matter the new number. Don't tell Patch. Then set up an answering machine at the old number, and keep and record every message. Don't call him back. Don't tell him to stop calling. Don't interact with him at all. That's what he wants.
"And you might want to avoid Vee for a while, Nora. I'm all for girls being friends--but pushing a relationship with a guy you're afraid of and that you both think might hurt or kill you? That's not friendship."
"Way ahead of you there," Nora mumbled, closing her eyes. She couldn't take much more.
If the cop said any more, Nora didn't hear it. Shortly after that, however, her mother led her out of the hotel toward their car.
Patch, unbelievably, was still there.
He was cuffed and in the back of one of the police cruisers (the one directly between them and the parking lot, as it happened) but he was still trying to charm one of the detectives...probably the partner of the cop who had spoken to her, Nora thought. The detective--a handsome black man with a long face and large eyes--was listening to Patch with an expression of intense concentration.
"It's not her fault," Patch was saying as Nora and her mother. "You know how skittish women can get, especially if it's their first time. But I had no idea that she was going to lose it so completely. I just asked for a double room because--well, you can't even turn over in a twin bed! She was exhausted and in shock because she'd just been robbed and soaking wet. Of course I wanted her to be comfortable. Wouldn't you?"
Nora stared. It wasn't as if she'd expected him to admit everything that he'd done, but she hadn't expected bare-faced lying.
Pulling away from her mother, she strode over to Patch. "You are so full of it."
"There, you see?" asked Patch in a tone that mourned for misunderstood innocents everywhere. "And all I was trying to do was help."
"Uh-huh. Is that why you nearly broke my arm? Or why you threatened me and said that you could get into my house at any time? Because you thought that violence and intimidation were helpful?"
The cop looked as if he would quite like to hear the answer as well.
"You don't understand, Nora," Patch said patiently. "I know you as no one else can. I know everything about you."
"Newsflash--I don't want you to! That's creepy!"
"You don't really think that," Patch said, a smug smile curving his lips. "You want me even now. And you're going to admit that, eventually."
"If you come anywhere near me and try to make me admit it, I'll hit you with enough pepper spray to make you sneeze your face off," Nora snapped.
"Oooh, kinky!"
Nora shook her head, amazed. "You don't get it, do you? You're not getting out of this. I'm not going to drop the charges. And Mom's not going to drop the charges. I've told you a million different ways to leave me alone. You're obnoxious and you haven't listened. Now I'm going to use the courts to say the same thing. Even if you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to them."
"Nice way to treat someone who loves you!"
"You don't love me," Nora said. "You just want me to think that I'm in love and that you love me back because you think you'll get what you want that way. But that's not going to happen. Not now, not ever."
She started to walk away...then paused, looking back.
"Angelic, my eye," she said in a mocking tone. "You're about as angelic as Lucifer."
The cop needed two more police officers and a straitjacket to hold Patch down.
Onward to: Spite Fics (Part 2)
Back to: Final Assessment
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