Chapter 3

After morning church services, Daisy asks Clarke to take his sisters out to eat since she needs to head to work, "Hey Clarke, would you care to take your sisters somewhere like DQ or maybe Captain D's? Here's my credit card. Get whatever y'all want. I need to meet with the sales representative from Alpha Pharmaceuticals and work on the schedule for the floor staff. Love you guys, oh, and Clarke, khaki cargo shorts and a button-up dress shirt for church, seriously."

Daisy walks away as the clinking from her Gucci high heels gets further away. Amber sees Clarke smirking, "Yeah, I don't think mom would have approved had I worn the shirt I have on underneath," he remarks, unbuttoning the shirt to expose a black South Pole shirt with a blood-covered skull on it.

"Mom would've certainly choked you if you wore that inside," Amber mentions as she unzips her purse for a comb to fix her hair from the frizz in the air, "Listen, after we eat, Dale is stopping by to show off his new skateboard and some of the tricks he's learning. No offense, but I'm not being every other girl in this town who dates a football jock," Amber says snarkily.

"None taken; when have you ever seen me with a serious girlfriend? I don't want, or need, anyone tying me down here. Honestly, if it wasn't for dad's legacy of being an all-state tight end, I wouldn't play. I've come to hate football, but it's an easy scholarship, so mom can focus on yours and Casey's college funds," Clarke blurts out and makes sure no one overheard.

Thankful the coast is clear, Clarke unlocks the passenger side door and holds it open for his sisters. Casey slides passed the front passenger seat and buckles in, but she isn't thrilled to smell the musk in the car's rear, "Clarkey, when's the last time you cleaned your car?" she asks.

"Do you want the truth?"

Amber slaps her brother in the rib, "No. Lie to the poor girl. Geesh, you're a moron."

Casey giggles. Clarke rushes around the car to get in his seat before he answers, "I haven't detailed this thing since I got it from mom. It was dad's car. I guess I don't mind the musk smell anymore because of all the years I sat in here waiting to drive it. From what mom's told me, dad found this on the side of the road and fell in love with it. He fixed the blown head gasket and had the transmission overhauled. She doesn't run quite as good as it did when he drove it, but it's dad's car, so I had to have it."

There's a moment of silence until Clarke cranks the engine and then drops the shifter in gear. Lunch is spent at Dairy Queen, enjoying lunch in the bright afternoon sun and listening to the birds chirp. Clarke enjoys a ghost pepper burger with onion rings and a Sprite, while Amber and Casey order the chicken strip basket with white gravy as a condiment over ketchup or mustard. Amber is polite enough to dump the wrappings into the trash can, but she taps Clarke on the shoulder, "Gimme mommy's card; I want an Oreo blizzard."

"Only if Casey wants a treat," Clarke replies, picking on his sister.

"Please, bubby! Can I get something?" Casey asks, using her big eyes to be adorable.

Leaning over, Clarke takes his mother's credit card, handing it to Amber, "Do you want anything?" she asks.

"You know what, a medium watermelon slush sounds great; thanks, Amber."

Inside, the girls enjoy the feel of cool air blasting them from above. Amber orders a small Oreo blizzard treat and Clarke's slushy, but she's surprised at Casey, "I want a banana split with hot fudge, please!"

The cashier smiles at Casey's innocent little voice, places the order, and proceeds to make everything herself. The girls take around two minutes to walk out to the outside patio, where Clarke is texting and locks his phone after the door swings open.

"Okay, after you finish that, we'll head home. I'm going out for a bit. Should Dale want to come over while mom or I are not home, he's to wait outside in the yard until one of us returns. Got it?"

Waving a hand in her brother's face, Amber comments, "Yeah, yeah, I know the rules, now goodbye!" slamming the door.

After Amber and Casey are dropped off at home, a flustered Clarke heads to the pharmacy to return the credit card to his mother. It takes about fifteen minutes to drive up Old Dallas Road to Main Street and park two blocks from City Hall. Clarke steps out along the crumbled curb, feeling the tiny bits of broken concrete and asphalt shift under his shoes. Once the Cougar door shuts, which is the first time Clarke hears the window rattle.

Slightly concerned about the window and musky scent, Clarke strolls down the sidewalk with his hands shoved into his short pockets, feeling the sun's warmth on his skin until he enters Feel-Good Pharmacy to proceed back to the pharmacy counter. One thing Clarke never has to do is stop before entering the swinging door near the entrance to the back hall that leads to Daisy's office. Something feels off; none of the technicians greeted him.

Clarke notices the office door is somewhat cracked ajar. The closer he gets, the more he notices a moan come from from the office. The feeling he shouldn't approach the office, Clarke's brain screams 'RUN!' but his body doesn't respond to turning around. Quietly, Clarke tiptoes to the office door.

"God, yes!" Daisy cries, "More Steven, fuck yes!"

No further than a foot away from the light-colored painted door, Clarke stands in shock, hearing his mother and someone else in her office grunting and huffing heavily, "Yes, yes, yes, harder, oh my God, yes, I love you! I want more!" He hears an occasional scoff of the desk legs scraping across the floor. Clarke's shocked when he hears, "Bend me over the desk! Take me from behind!"

Unable to fully process the sounds with his imagination, Clarke goes to the door, where he instantly regrets it. He sees his mother with her breasts hanging out, bouncing around with her elbows planted on the olive green painted desk with papers spread all over the room. Behind Daisy is a six-foot-four tall stalky man with a buzzed hairline and big ears gripping Daisy's hips, thrusting into her with his eyes closed.

"Oh my God!" Clarke whispers, realizing his mother is having a sexual relationship with another man that isn't Wade.

Between panting and moans, Clarke can't believe his ears, "Steve, yes, that's it, break me, baby, shove that big cock inside me! Goddammit, I've needed you to do this to me again. Fuck your dirty little whore," Daisy's voice doesn't sound the same, "Yes, make me cum! Don't stop; make me cum!" she cries out seconds before she slaps her hands over her mouth to muffle the screams as Steven groans pulling Daisy back as he cums deep within her body.

Clarke watches Steven fall into the yellow and black office chair. He catches a glimpse of Steven's semi-hard junk and is shocked that his mother's body could take the enormous size and girth. His senses snap back, and he turns to quietly dart back to the pharmacy sales floor.

Out of the hallway door, one of the pharmacy technicians notices Clarke walking to the floor and calls out, "Hey, Clarke! Y'all gonna kill Marlin this week?" It takes Clarke a few seconds to snap back to reality, but instinctively a thumb goes into the air as the pharmacy technician claps and hoots, "GO GRIZZLIES!"

Still processing seeing his mother being manhandled on her desk, Clarke sees flashes of Daisy's body bent over the desk with her breasts bouncing from the force of getting fucked from behind. Freshly burned in his mind, the sight of his mother's face caught between pleasure and pain. Clarke manages to walk out to his car and cruises around until his mind slows down enough to process what he witnessed. By the time he pulls up the driveway, he sees Amber and her boyfriend sitting under the tree nestled up, which sends him into a mood.

"That best be the only place y'all have been. If I find out you've been alone in the house, little boy, I will fuck your world up!" Clarke threatens the extremely scrawny flannel plaid-wearing punk skater with a dark gray skull cap.

Dale shoots Clarke a sarcastic glare, "Whatev- dude. We ain't done a damn thing," he replies and tightens his grip around Amber's shoulders, "Dumbass jock wouldn't know a wristwatch from a wristlock," he whispers, but Clarke is close enough to hear.

Ready to give Dale a beating, Clarke rushes over and grabs him by the shirt collar, yanking Dale to eye level, "You wanna say that shit to my face, ya little pussy."

Beginning to shake, "You-you heard me. Now, put me down, or-or I'll get my boys, and we'll mess you up!" Clarke doesn't take too kindly to the threat. He drops Dale to clutch his wrist, twisting it as far as it'll go, "Ouch! Let me go!" Dale pleads, bent over with his arm straight out.

"Threaten me again and find out what happens. You or your 'boys' don't have the balls to stand up to me.

While the altercation occurs, Daisy pulls up, parking in a rush to pull Clarke off of Dale, "Son! Let that poor kid go before you break his arm," she screams, slapping Clarke's hand hard enough to break his grip.

Dale lightly massages the red area of his wrist, feeling it sting with the soreness in his arm, "If you ever grab me like that again, I'll make you sorry!" His seemingly empty threat is met with a backhanded slap.

"If you ever come over here again without proper supervision or if I catch you doing anything with my daughter, my son isn't the one you need to threaten; it'll be me. Now scram before you deal with momma bear," Daisy says.

It doesn't take Dale long to get his skateboard to roll home. Amber's embarrassed, running into the house without saying anything to Clarke or their mother, "Think she's pissed?" Clarke mentions in a sarcastic tone but refuses to look at his mother.

There's a heavy sensation in the air when Daisy realizes that Clarke can't look at her, "Clarke, sweetie, what's wrong?"

Blood red, Clarke feels warmth glowing from his cheeks, "I, um, I stopped by earlier and well, I, just," Clarke pauses while he fidgets his hands and fingers, "Is it your affair that Wade has on you with Steven?"

With a hard gasp accompanied by a hand over her lips, Daisy's expression goes from concerned mother to humiliated, "What did you hear?"

"I didn't only hear y'all, ma. I was at the door and seen y'all going at it hard," Clarke admits with his eyes closed, leaving his mother mortified.

"Oh shit!" Daisy cries out, "Fuck me," she pauses again, not thinking of the phrase she let slip, "I don't mean that! Ugh, God! Clarke! Dammit, okay, no, that's not what Wade has on me. He doesn't know about Steven. Come with me around the house to the deck. We need to chat."

He is unwilling to look at his mother when they walk around the side of the house. Neither feels right about the situation, but listening to the wooden lounge seat creak from their weight, Daisy doesn't waste time, "First thing first, I am so sorry you walked in on that. The second thing and this is the first time outside of Steven, that I've discussed this, but it is time you know the truth. I love Steven, but somehow, I'm unsure how Wade learned about how Steven helped with your father. Casey was in so much pain that Steven used some influence and favors to help him out from time to time near the end."

"Mom, are you sure I need to hear this?"

"Clarke, please let me finish," Daisy tells him with tears collecting in the corner of her dark eyes, "I'm so ashamed of what I did, but Steven found ways to bring me serious painkillers. At first, it was samples of Oxycodone, but your father got worse. Those medicines stopped working. I felt helpless seeing him struggle to move or lie in bed, agonizing in pain. Since your father refused chemo and radiation treatment, our insurance wouldn't cover anything. So, Steven, being so kind with his feelings towards me, snuck some Morphine with all the stuff from a corrupt pain clinic. Your father begged me to purposely overdose him, but I couldn't. I loved him too much. All I wanted was the pain to ease."

Sucking in the air, trying to keep back the buried pain, Daisy's breathing becomes erratic, "Mom! Calm down. You don't need to say anything else. I understand now. I don't hold any of it against you as long as you didn't screw Steve while dad was alive."

"No, son, we didn't do anything for about two years after your father passed. Like I said before, how Wade found out, I'll probably never know. All I remember is he came to my office one day after Steven left to confront me and has controlled my life until recently. You helped me wake up to get rid of him. Regardless of what happens, we're free. I can be with the man I have loved since your father died. Steven is such a good man, I promise."

"Mom, I want you to be happy. I miss dad every day. However, I graduate next year, so you'll need a man around here to help out," Clarke says, feeling his humiliation fade.

The way he mentions how she needs a man around the house pushes a button that pulls Daisy's mind from the hidden agony, "Um, no," she expresses with her left hand pointing to her son, "If I want another man around here then fine, but I don't, and I repeat, DON'T need a man around here. I've raised y'all, not Wade. Get that fact straight young man."

Caught off guard, Clarke isn't sure what to say. He gets up, heading inside to create space between himself and his mother.

That Monday at school, Tracy does find it odd that she's getting more attention from guys. They dance and grind with their hands behind their head and whistle or growl. Even though most of her friends act strange around her, but no one will admit why they give Tracy the cold shoulder.

"What in the Sam Hill is everyone acting all pissy and perverted about today?" Tracy asks herself at lunch.

She looks across the courtyard and sees Hector sitting on the top of the short wall, "Hey, hot stuff, what's shakin'?" she calls out, waving to get his attention.

"C'mon over, Miss Wiggles!" Hector yells.

Tracy's confused, but she doesn't waste time getting to the bottom of the nickname after leaning against the wall, "Wiggles? Have I missed something?"

"Hang on, you haven't seen the vid all over Facebook?" Pulling out his phone, Hector goes to the saved folder and hands his cheap android phone to Tracy, "Take a look. It's from the party at the lake."

Feeling her jaw drop at how someone would post such a video on social media, Tracy pulls her head up with tears, "Oh my God! That could ruin my life! My acting career could end before it even begins!" she pauses as the fear settles deeper, "Oh, fuck me, my parents are going to murder me."

As that event unfolds, Tracy continues to receive unwanted attention. Her parents got wind of her actions at the post-game party at Cowboy Lake, and they're furious. Brent and Gracie Lynn are associated with some of Brighton's wealthiest families, thanks to Brent being a third-generation construction company owner that was started by his grandfather after the Korean War.

Her parents arrive home early from work. Brent's in the kitchen making martinis. He stands over the island, staring at Gracie Lynn. She stares back, still in love with the tall, dark, handsome man she's known for most of her life. Brent feels more annoyed than ever. He tries to stare at Gracie Lynn passionately, but he's always felt trapped since she got pregnant with Tracy. There have been more times than he would care to admit that he believes Gracie Lynn is kept in the lifestyle he provides since she's never worked above her job as a certified nursing assistant for a retirement community about fifteen minutes south of Brighton.

Tracy doesn't arrive home until almost four-thirty. Afraid of what's going to happen, she knows shit is about to hit the fan seeing her parents home before six o'clock. With hands trembling, Tracy twists the knob and enters the house, "Before you rip my backside, please let me explain. It's not as bad as you think!" Tracy expresses seeing her parents on the couch.

"Sit down, young lady!" Brent demands with a low groan. His forest green eyes burn intensely, "You're in big trouble this time!"

After a hard gulp, Tracy sits in the chair across from the couch, "Daddy! I swear I didn't know anyone was recording. As for Clarke, he was totally polite and a gentleman, I promise."

Brent's arms tense and tighten as he crosses them, "I know who Clarke is because of his father. We were teammates all through school, so I know his character being Casey's boy. You, however, are about to crash and burn your career before it gets off the ground. What will you do if any performance arts school sees that one day?" Brent pauses to see Tracy's reaction go from disappointed to heartbroken, "Lord have mercy, child, do you have any idea how damming that can be?"

"I'm sorry, daddy. I'll be more discreet."

"You're right about that because you're grounded!" Gracie Lynn informs her, "You can keep your phone for now, but if anything else like this turns up, your ass is grass. No parties, no football games, or anything else for at least the next month. Next time it'll be stricter. We'll take your car, phone, laptop, tablet, and more."

Feeling her lip quivering, Tracy sits there, hands in with her hands folded. The stinging sensation in her cheeks draws a slight glowing red. She sits silently until her father dismisses her, "You can go to your room. We'll let you know when dinner is ready."

It feels like heavy chains and weights are attached to Tracy's ankles. It takes her longer than usual to walk upstairs, but Tracy searches and finds the video after she shuts her door. The video was uploaded by a guy that's always given her a cold chill down her spine. Johnathon Beauford, one of the weirdest and creepiest nerds at school, always stares at Tracy and her friends like he's about to nut his pants behind his coke bottle thick glasses.

"Ugh, why does it have to be that skinny pipsqueak?" Tracy says to herself, "Yuck! Why can't some good-looking guy like Clarke be the one lurking in the dark over me? But, no, it has to be the ultra-pale and probably porn-addicted nerd!"

Working up the courage, Tracy takes time to carefully and politely type a message to Johnathon on Facebook messenger. Tapping her fingers against the back of her phone, Tracy has second thoughts about sending the message, afraid of what he might want, do, or say to have the video taken down. She's about to highlight and delete the message, but her finger slips and hits the send button.

"No!" Tracy screams into her free hand, "Fuck! I hate this phone!"

Almost instantly, Johnathon opens and reads the message. Tracy sits in horror, seeing that he's typing, "Oh God, don't let him want a date. Anything but that!"

Seconds later, a reply appears on the screen. Tracy reads it, feeling sorry for him, "Holy Toledo! You messaged me! This feels like a taboo scene from WoW or Assault on Alien Base Omega! You are one sorry funky-looking guy, Johnathon."

"It isn't easy to say this. I'll offer a trade if you want the video eliminated. One date with me at the football field, and I will erase it and encrypt the ones online so no one else can ever view it. One urging stipulation is that I want my first kiss to be with you on the lips," Tracy reads aloud, feeling her skin crawl, "Fuck no! Is it worth kissing that snotty evil shithead?"

Johnathon bobs in his computer gaming chair. He's overzealous to the point his hands start to sweat. The pause after his last message begins to raise doubt. Feeling his nerves stand on end, Johnathon rattles his fingers on his black oversized Presswood computer desk filled with manuals and PC games, "Answer me by golly!" He murmurs.

"One date, in private, no videos at the field, and just one kiss. I'll sneak out when the sun goes down. I don't live far from school. I want your word that it'll be destroyed," Johnathon reads aloud, then jumps for joy.

Without revealing his full intention, Johnathon shoves away from the desk to venture to his sock drawer, "Looks like I'm finally using you tonight," he whispers to a condom and kisses the bright silvery wrapper.

As Tracy dreads what's coming, Johnathon can barely hold his enthusiasm inside. He's changed into tear-away jogging pants with no underwear, a Monty Python graphic t-shirt, and beach sandals. Tracy's still dressed in what she wore to school, except wearing a lavender spaghetti strap with a built-in bra, hoping she can flaunt herself enough to force Johnathon to ejaculate at her looks to stave off his creepiness.

The sun falls over the land, creating a dull sunset rather than the beautiful cherry glow accompanying a slight shadow. Tracy uses the lattice close to her window to climb down to the bright Buffalograss. She pats her pocket to ensure she has her house key, then jogs to the school. She's covered in sweat from the humid air, but it doesn't take Johnathon long to see her coming. He is sitting in his early 90s, black with faded spots Chrysler New Yorker, and flashes the headlights to signal Tracy.

Against her better judgment, Tracy strolls to the car and leans over to give Johnathon a better view of her perky breasts that barely remain inside her tight-fitting shirt, "Let's get this over with and get home."

"I can't believe you're here! I contemplated for sure that you would chicken out of our deal. Let's go to the field. I want our talk and kiss to occur there."

The urge to slap Johnathon surges, but Tracy manages to control her body, "I made a deal, and backing out could ruin my career to getting out of this rinky-dink town. So, c'mon let's do this."

Popping open the door, Johnathon guides Tracy by the hand to the field. Tracy rolls her eyes up a little with her head held low and notices Johnathon has a hard-on, "Don't think you're getting that lucky with me. The deals for a kiss and nothing else," she mentions.

Caught off guard, Johnathon scoffs, feeling hurt, "And why not should we enjoy our kiss of love? What do other guys have that I can't offer? Unlike most jocks in this place, I have an actual brain that thinks outside the box. Not every man requires bulky muscles or the desire to play a brutal, animalistic game like football. CTE will destroy their lives, so why not give the intelligent side of the coin a shot? Why don't I deserve someone as beautiful and talented as you? I've loved and adored you from afar for too long. Why can't you love someone like me?"

Tracy pulls away, "How do you know I'm the one you're destined to love?" She pauses and stares at Johnathon, "To love someone, you don't blackmail them and force them to love you. If you want a chance, then delete the video!"

"Kiss me," Johnathon barely gets out before Tracy forces her body against his to seal the deal. They kiss for more than a minute before she pulls away, feeling his tongue invading.

Tracy's expression is one of dissatisfaction, "The video, please delete it."

Without hesitation, Johnathon takes out his phone. He enters a simple keystroke to delete the video on Facebook and encrypts the others to not be visible, "Done."

"Thank you. We'll keep this little event to ourselves but let's take some time to sit and chat," Tracy offers, ignoring the urge to run.

Johnathon takes her hand to the bottom bleacher, where they sit and talk. The erection from earlier with more sexual urges flowing through his body, "See, I can satisfy you. I have a raging mega boner. So, would it be too much to ask for you to just touch it? Please, make my first sexual experience with you a memorable moment."

"No."

"Please!" He begs with his hands together like in prayer.

"Again. No."

Johnathon's anger surges, slapping Tracy's face and leaving a bright red handprint.

"You bastard! I'm out of here!" Tracy screams with a hand covering the pulsing in her cheek.

Unable to collect his composure, Johnathon stays seated for a moment. His mind is shattered, and his hand throbs while it shakes. Disconnected from reality, Johnathon rushes Tracy to strike her from behind using momentum, knocking Tracy to the ground, "I need you, Tracy! I love you, you whore!"

"Fuck you, Johnathon! You're as sleazy as you are creepy, you f'ugly son of a bitch."

Suddenly Tracy shuffles to get up, but she barely makes it twenty feet when Johnathon attacks her, using his five-foot-ten-inch body and pale baby soft hands to grab Tracy's hair and bounce her head off the blacktop.

"This is one time I'm not getting turned down!" He yells but fails to notice she's knocked out, "Tracy...Um, Tracy, are you okay? Oh God, what did I...Oh, wait," He babbles before a smile stretches across his face, "Can't object if you're not awake."

Clenched at the wrists, Tracy's dragged across the edge of the field and down to the creek bed. Johnathon doesn't waste time massaging Tracy's soft breasts under her shirt with the opportunity to feel her body. He lifts her shirt and stares at the bright pink areolas. He slinks lower with his tongue pushed out and begins to lick from the outer rim to her nipple, getting it hard the closer he gets.

"Oh God, yes! You taste so fucking good," He coos, pausing to switch breasts, "I hope you don't wake up," he mutters, huffing his breath in excitement.

Shaking from anticipation, Johnathon feels his dick ache as he plays with Tracy's body. To ensure her body is willing, he reaches into her shorts to use his index finger to probe her pussy, and when he discovers it's wet, Johnathon nearly creams his tear-away pants.

"It's time!" He cries, reaching into his pocket and taking out the condom. He places the wrapper's edge between his front teeth and rips it open.

Rolling the soft latex rubber around his thin penis, Johnathon gets to his feet, hooking his pants with his thumbs to step out of them. He stares for a moment at the glimmering shine from the condom and glares at Tracy, "My dream come true!" He says, licking his lips, "The woman of my dreams giving me the chance to lose our virginity together!"

After he unbuttons Tracy's pants, she begins to stir, causing Johnathon to panic. He pulls a damp rock from the dirt and slams it into her temple. Blood leaks from a small puncture, but Johnathon resumes ripping and pulling Tracy's pants until they're off and removes her satin black bikini panties. To celebrate his victory, Johnathon places the panties under his nose, sniffs at them, and stifles his breath, "I love the scent of your bottom. You're mine! All mine and no other man can take what I'm about to enjoy. After this, if you look at another man, I'll kill you. You're my trophy now."

Before Johnathon spreads Tracy's legs open more, he props her hands behind her head, "Oh yes, come take me, you amazing man. Make me your woman, your servant, your sex slave!" Johnathon says and mimics a feminine voice, "I don't mind if I do. I'll try to be gentle."

Down on his knees, Johnathon crawls into place to hold his weight on one hand as he guides his cock to the top of Tracy's vagina. He pushes the head between the lips feeling how warm and wet her body feels. He pauses at her vulva and rubs against it, but Tracy doesn't react to anything, and her breathing becomes shallow, "Yes! That's the sign you're enjoying it and want my dick inside you. Oh my God, this is so effing hot!"

At the point of penetration, Johnathon firmly holds the base of his cock. His breathing speeds up, feeling the swollen head pushing the inner walls apart, but inexperience mixed with never feeling a woman's body forces Johnathon to ejaculate without fully inserting himself into Tracy's body.

"NO!" He screams, feeling the tip of the condom filling with cum, "Not now! Not yet! I haven't claimed my prize!"

Once his body stops expelling in the condom, he loses his erection, "No. I can't believe it. I was so close to being the first nerd to lose his virginity among all my friends," Johnathon hesitates when an idea comes over him, "I know! She had sex willingly if she says anything and threaten to place the video back online. Yeah, yeah, that can work!"

Johnathon drags Tracy into the creek to cover his tracks, leaves her lying waist-deep, and cleans up the rock wound. After pulling off the rubber, Johnathon pulls his pants up and slips his shoes on. He keeps the used prophylactic in his left hand until he finds a trash can far enough away for anyone to search for it.

Once he's home and showered, Johnathon remains in his bedroom, rubbing his junk, "Today I became a man!" He states trying to get himself hard again.

The next day when the janitor arrives, he makes the usual round through the school hallways collecting trash. When he loads all the bags in the back of the John Deere quad, he drives back to the dumpsters on the far end of the field. The headlights shine down at the creek. The elderly Caucasian man barely sees Tracy's hand and head and panics.

"Oh, good Lord!" He shouts, taking out his phone.

"9-1-1, what's the nature of your emergency?"

Barely able to keep his voice calm, the janitor informs the emergency operator what he sees, "Ma'am, I'm Kenny Phillips, the lead custodian at Brighton High School. I need police and paramedics here now! A young lady is hurt in the creek behind the football field. Please, send help immediately!"

"Sir, remain calm. I'm dispatching emergency services now." The female dispatcher relays and then ends the call.

Kenny tries to pull Tracy's body from the cold creek water, but his overweight size makes it challenging to keep from breathing hard, "It'll be okay, youngin'. I have help on the way," he's shocked to discover Tracy's half-naked, "Please be alive! Dear sweet Jesus, my lord, let this young woman be okay."

It doesn't take first responders long to arrive and tend to Tracy. She's semi-conscious as they load her into the ambulance. Afraid of what happened with Johnathon, she keeps their meeting a secret.

"I don't know who attacked me, sir. I snuck out after my parents grounded me for something stupid online, but I climbed out of my window to come here to cool down. I didn't see anyone or remember how I wound up in the creek. I'm sorry I can't help you more." Tracy says. She is afraid of what could happen if she realizes the truth. Unaware of what Johnathon might have done to her body, she lies there, struggling not to cry.

"That's alright; if there are any traces left, we'll get the evidence and begin an investigation," Deputy Teller says to Tracy, "Just rest. Your parents have been informed of what we know so far and will meet us at the hospital."

All Tracy can do is lie there with an arm across her eyes. She's rushed inside when the ambulance arrives, where Tracy undergoes a rape kit, but when the OBGYN on duty doesn't find a broken hymen or any objective evidence of a rape, she fills out the report for hospital records.

"Mr. and Mrs. Wilcox," The doctor calls out in the waiting room.

"Over here!" Brent shouts.

They're motioned to the double doors and guided to Tracy's room, "I'm Dr. Elroy, your daughter's Gynecologist. I found no tearing, scarring, or injury to your daughter's hymen. My best guess is whoever assaulted her tried to rape her but something, or someone, intervened before he could do anything and left her in the creek to wash away any proof. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help. She's recovering in a private room at the end of the hall. So, if you'll excuse me, I have another patient needing me."

"We're more than grateful, doctor. Thank you for everything." Grice Lynn mentions before she rushes down the hall to check on Tracy.

Inside the room, Tracy sits there waiting to be lectured. Instead, her parents sit and wait in silence until she's released, almost an hour later.

"Wilcox family, you're ready to go. I have here some preventative medicines in case someone did rape your daughter. Come back for an AIDS test in six months and if you experience or remember anything that happened, contact the Sheriff's office. Other than that, stay safe. I hope things get better." The young male nurse says.

Tracy's handed a set of powder blue scrubs. She changes in the bathroom and leaves the hospital gown on the bed, "I'm so sorry, mommy and daddy. Here..." Tracy extends the bag of her belongings found at the school to her father, "Take my keys and phone. I know I royally screwed up."

Brent wraps his arms around Tracy and sniffles, "We're just glad you're not hurt or killed. Yes, you'll get punished, but it's better knowing you're okay, sweetheart. We love you!"

"I love you both too. Can we go home now?"

Although the moment is bleak for Tracy and her parents, the sun shines brightly that day, but rumors around school quickly begin to spread. A dissatisfying cloud hasn't found its way to Tracy yet as she takes the day to hide in her bedroom to cry and sulk, ignoring text and Facebook messages from her friends at school.