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My best friend Tiffany handed me a spiked drink to celebrate. Not long after, the town mob kicked down the door of a dirty trailer. They found me drugged and trapped in the dark with Rory Donovan, the town's exiled outcast. Tiffany stood at the front of the crowd with a Polaroid camera, screaming with fake tears. "How could you do something so shameful? You are a disgrace!" Because of that orchestrated night, my reputation was completely destroyed. I was dragged out into the dirt, stripped of my dignity, and forced into a miserable life of poverty and endless abuse. Tiffany stole my college acceptance letter, claiming my scholarship for herself while I scrubbed floors to pay off debts. After decades of bone-crushing labor and absolute loneliness, I died a pathetic death in a sterile hospital room, listening to my own heart monitor flatline. Until my dying breath, the phantom pain of a completely wasted life suffocated me. Why did the girl I trusted most orchestrate such a vicious trap to ruin me? Opening my heavy eyelids to the harsh glare of a neon beer sign, the sticky blood matting my hair told me this wasn't a dying hallucination. I was back on the exact night my life was supposed to end. Hearing the mob approaching outside, I didn't run like a coward this time. I turned to the dangerous outcast in the shadows and looked him dead in the eye. "We tell them we are engaged."
Contents
Marrying The Lethal Town Outcast Chapter 1
Eleanor opened her heavy eyelids. A sharp, throbbing pain spiked at the base of her skull, radiating down her neck.
She reached back. Her trembling fingers touched the sticky, warm blood matting her hair.
She inhaled the stale air. It smelled of mildew and cheap stale beer. She coughed weakly, her chest burning with the effort.
Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light. Through a dirty, cracked window, she spotted the flickering red neon beer sign from the diner down the highway.
Her stomach twisted violently. She remembered dying. She remembered the sterile, lonely hospital room decades in the future, the steady beep of the monitor flatlining.
She pinched her forearm hard. Her nails dug into her pale skin until it bruised. The sharp sting shot up her arm. This was not a hallucination.
A heavy, suppressed groan echoed from the dark corner of the cramped room.
Eleanor flinched. Her survival instincts kicked in instantly. She scrambled backward, her worn sneakers scraping against the peeling linoleum floor.
She squinted into the thick shadows. A tall man was slumped against the peeling wallpaper, his knees drawn up.
She recognized the thick black glasses. She recognized the pale, sharp jawline. It was Rory Donovan, the town's exiled outcast.
She noticed his clenched jaw. His oversized thrift-store shirt was drenched in sweat, clinging to a surprisingly thick chest. His large hands trembled violently against his thighs.
Eleanor's breath hitched. Her blood ran hot, then freezing cold. She realized they had both been dosed with a powerful illicit drug.
The memory of her past life hit her like a freight train. Tiffany and Wayne framed them tonight.
She recalled the exact sequence of events. The townspeople broke in. They ruined her reputation. They forced her into a life of absolute misery and endless labor.
Eleanor clenched her fists. Her nails bit so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke. But the absolute resentment accumulated over decades of her miserable past life erupted like a dormant volcano, instantly swallowing that initial trace of panic. Her fear evaporated, instantly replaced by a cold, burning rage.
Outside, the faint crunch of gravel broke the silence. Hushed, angry voices approached from the dirt road.
She calculated the time. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The mob would bust that flimsy door open in less than three minutes.
Eleanor pushed herself off the dirty linoleum floor. Her legs were shaky, her muscles heavy from the drug, but her mind was terrifyingly clear.
Her gaze locked onto Rory in the shadows. He was the one. In her past life, this exiled outcast was the only person in town who hadn't eagerly kicked her when she was down after this very scandal. More importantly, she knew he was destined to soar to unimaginable heights of power in the coming years. Marrying him was her absolute best-and only-viable chance at survival.
She walked deliberately toward Rory. She ignored the unnatural heat rising in her own veins, forcing her breathing to steady.
Rory snapped his head up. His dark eyes locked onto her through the thick lenses. They held a lethal, animalistic warning.
"Stay back," he growled. His voice was hoarse, strained to the breaking point from fighting the chemical fire in his blood.
Eleanor ignored his warning. She dropped to her knees right in front of him, the hard floor biting into her kneecaps.
She grabbed his trembling shoulders. His muscles were like coiled steel beneath the cheap fabric. She forced him to look directly into her eyes.
Rory stiffened. His entire body coiled. He looked ready to snap her neck to protect himself.
"Listen to me," Eleanor spoke in a rapid, hushed whisper. "The town is out there. They are coming to ruin us both."
Rory narrowed his eyes. The drug haze parted slightly. He assessed her sudden shift. She was no longer a terrified, crying girl. She was calculating.
"We tell them we are engaged to be married," Eleanor proposed boldly, her voice devoid of any emotion.
Rory stared at her in sheer shock. His chest heaved. The absolute absurdity of her demand momentarily overrode the chemical burning in his veins.
Heavy footsteps stomped onto the hollow wooden porch outside the trailer. The floorboards groaned under the weight of multiple people.
Eleanor stood up. She turned her back to Rory, completely exposing her spine to the dangerous man, and squared her shoulders toward the door.
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