by Sharon Page
“Damn it,” Jonathon snarls. He’s on his feet and I stumble to him. “Stay here,” he says to me.
He’s going to run after the guy.
“No.” I grab his arm. “I called 911. The cops are coming. You can’t chase him—he’s got a knife and you could be killed.”
Jonathon pries my hand off his arm and he runs in pursuit. Sirens cut through the air. Lights flash, dizzying against the streaming rain. I point wildly, screaming to the cops and campus security that my rapist ran away and my rescuer is chasing him.
A cop stays with me, trying to lead me back to his car so he can do something about the cuts on my face and neck, but I try to stand my ground. As if by standing there, I am somehow able to protect Jonathon.
Seconds later I hear a crackle on the guy’s microphone, which is clipped to his bullet-proof vest. He clicks it on, gives his name.
“Man down,” says the crackled voice. “We’ve got an unconscious male, about six foot tall, black jacket, black hair—”
“That’s Jonathon,” I cry. “My friend. He rescued me. You want to get the guy wearing the mask. He’s the rapist.” Then, my brain understands what happened. “Is he okay? Is Jonathon okay? The guy had a knife and he could have been stabbed.”
I want to vomit as the officer relays everything I said to the other cop.
More crackling. Then, “He’s conscious. Appears to have sustained no injuries. No sign of the other one.”
“Can I go and see Jonathon? Please take me to him. He saved my life.”
The cop is young, looks about the same age as Jonathon, with short brown hair and a baby-face. He points. “I think he’s coming now, miss.”
Next thing I know Jonathon is sweeping me into his arms and holding me tight.
***
We end up at the small community hospital. Jonathon was knocked unconscious when the assailant went at him with a knife and he lost his footing. The bastard had grabbed him and slammed him head first into a tree. The campus is laid out with the town to the south of it, and wooded land to the north. The ravine meanders through campus almost in the middle of it, but it becomes the border of the college grounds behind the science buildings.
The masked sicko ran into the woods and completely disappeared.
The police brought me to the hospital to deal with the two cuts on my face, and bring Jonathon to the hospital so he could be checked for concussion. I’m dealt with quickly. I get my face and neck swabbed with disinfectant that stings, get asked about tetanus shots. Neither cut needs stiches but they use a surgical tape to hold the one on my jaw together to limit scarring. The other one is just a scratch, thank God.
Then the cops get my story of what happened.
I tell them all about the emails, the photo slipped under the door, and the attack. And how, even after all this, I had no idea who this guy was.
Or why he’d decided on me as his victim.
I couldn’t even guess who he might be. I didn’t even know anyone as big as he was at Yardley. I couldn’t think of anyone in my classes.
I wanted them to hurry up and finish asking questions so I could go in to see Jonathon in the hospital’s examining room. Every detail I can think of, I give to the cop questioning me. I insist I don’t need to do a rape kit thing, because Jonathon saved me before that happened to me.
I owe him my life. Even if the guy hadn’t killed me, I don’t know if I could have mentally survived being raped. I know how hellish it was to do stuff when I didn’t want to. What about when you’re forced to do it with a violent creep? Women who survive that are amazingly strong.
Finally, I get to go and see Jonathon.
He sits on the edge of an examining bed, gripping the sides. The doctor looks up at the cops who’ve walked in with me. “No evidence of a concussion. I’m going to stitch up his wound. I’ve removed some of his hair in the area and cleaned it. Now I’ll close it up.” A nurse has gathered scalpels, needles, and sutures and has laid it all on a tray beside the doctor.
Jonathon keeps his jaw set as the doctor worked on stitching the wound. My stomach felt queasy but I stood at his side. He reached out and clasped my hand. Smiles at me.
He really is a gorgeous guy.
“Thank you,” I whisper to him. “If you hadn’t found me—”
“Shh,” he says. Then he says softly to me, “How much hair did they cut away? Do I look like a monk?”
That makes me giggle. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.” As best as I can, I take a peek, trying to do it without interrupting the doctor. “There’s just a bit shaved away.” I look at the doctor, a guy of about sixty, with white hair. “It will grow back, won’t it?”
The doctor lifts an eyebrow, obviously not impressed by our priorities. “Of course.”
When he’s done, Jonathon thanks him—a Jonathon thing to do, I’ve noticed. He slides off the examination table, pulls his jacket back on. It’s still wet from the rain. Out in the waiting room, he gives his statement to the police. I listen, realizing how very, very lucky I was, and what an amazing guy he is.
“Mia was being chased when she called me. That’s what she told me and I could hear her breathing hard. She told me where she was and then I couldn’t hear her. I didn’t wait around—I headed out then to find her. I was in the University Center.”
“Did you call 911?”
“I should have done, but I wasn’t thinking. I was worried about her. I had my car in the University Center parking lot and I drove toward the science building. I parked it and started searching, then I heard Mia scream. They were in the ravine, behind the bushes. If she hadn’t cried out, I might not have found them.”
“So you ran in, unarmed.”
“I was scared for Mia. Again, I didn’t think.”
I add, “The guy had a knife and swiped at Jonathon with it. But Jonathon grabbed the guy’s arm and did something that made him drop it. They fought. I guess Jonathon knows martial arts, because he did some kind of judo throw on the guy and toss him over his shoulder, then got him pinned—” I break off. “Sorry.” I squirm a bit, even though everyone is looking at me, listening patiently, and not saying anything. “It’s supposed to be his statement. I got carried away.”
Jonathon takes my hand and holds it. It does make me feel comforted. Safer. Not alone. Or maybe it’s because I’m thinking about how warm and strong his hand is, and how maybe I shouldn’t be holding it, that I’m not focusing on the attack.
Should I not hold hands with him? It makes us look like boyfriend and girlfriend, and we’re not.
But Jonathon is holding my hand tight and I don’t think he has any intention of letting me go.
When he finishes his statement, he runs his hand through his black hair, which is almost dry and hangs down over his forehead. “Thank God I was at the University Center and so close by. I could kick myself. You told me about the emails and I should have taken more precautions.”
I hadn’t told him about the picture under the door. I’d just taken that by security. Now I feel like an idiot for not having been more open.
The cops get up. One talks into a radio, the other thanks us for our statements. I don’t say anything. I mean, I assume they are going to try to catch the guy, but there was so little I could tell them. I did point out that Campus security had the print out of the photo on file, for possible fingerprints.
Once the cops leave, I realize Jonathon is watching me. There’s pain in his green eyes.
“Does your head hurt?”
“A bit. They gave me painkillers. And a prescription for more. But that’s not it. I realize I could have—” He breaks off.
“You could have been killed,” I say, and panic is whirling around in me again. My throat suddenly feels too tight and I can’t speak. Next thing I know, tears are burning tracks down my cheeks.
Suddenly Jonathon pulls me to him and kisses me.
***
His lips are hot against mine and surprisingly gentle, and they move ove
r mine in a way that feels almost magical.
Oh no, wait—
He pulls back and I do at the same time. His eyes are wide and he looks rueful. “I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t think. I can’t do that, since you belong to another guy.”
“It’s okay,” I say miserably. Did I let the kiss go too far? I was surprised, but I feel I should have jerked back faster. Like instantaneously. I feel I’ve betrayed Ryan somehow.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” Jonathon says. “I was just so scared that—that things could have gone differently tonight.”
I realize he is trying to avoid saying the obvious—that I could have been raped, maybe killed. I guess he’s doing it to spare my feelings, to keep me from thinking about it.
“I hope I haven’t made things awkward between us,” he begins, his tone low and deep.
“You saved my life! I don’t even know how to begin to repay you.”
“You don’t repay someone for that.” His voice is filled with soft kindness. I remember how I bugged him about his bondage room and his club, and I feel guilty. At his core, Jonathon is like Ryan, I believe. A really decent, stand up, great guy.
He crosses the room, grabs some paper towel from a dispenser, frowns at it and brings it back for me. “For your tears. Not great, but the best we’ve got in here.”
I smile. “I’m okay,” I say.
But now what do I do? I should go back to the dorm and see Lara. But I’m freaked out about being in the room when the stalker hasn’t been caught. “I really don’t want to sleep there tonight, but I should. I don’t want Lara to be there alone.” I put my hand to my mouth. “She doesn’t even know what happened.”
“Stay at my house tonight. Both of you can stay. I’ve got a dozen bedrooms in the place.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to cause you any more trouble. I got you hurt.”
He puts his arms around me. At first, I get tense, then I realize this is meant to be friendly and tender, not sexual.
“This is not your fault, Mia. You aren’t responsible for what that bastard decided to do. It’s no trouble to have you at my house. I have a staff, remember? I’d feel better if you were there, both of you.”
The doctor warned us about symptoms of concussion. If Jonathon felt dizzy, nauseous, had problems with his vision, he was to go back to emergency at once. Spending the night with him is probably a good idea, so I can keep an eye on him. Having Lara there makes it completely innocent.
“Are you going to be my guest tonight? You can stay longer too, if you want to. As long as you wish.”
It’s tempting, because I’m really sick at the thought of going back to the dorm. How will I feel safe? “I have projects to get finished. And—”
“Don’t worry about that.” He looks shocked. “I will speak to your professors. I’ll take care of that for you.”
“I guess I should speak to them—”
“You’ve had a traumatic experience. Let me talk to them. My father has put money into the Yardley campus—they’ll listen.”
He’s been through as much as me, yet he’s telling me to lean on him, that he’ll take care of me. It’s incredibly sweet.
I suddenly think of something else. “My mother.” The cops didn’t call her. Since I’m nineteen and I wasn’t assaulted, I didn’t need to have her talk to them. But I will have to tell her about this.
And Ryan.
God, I can’t tell Ryan. He would freak out if he thought I was in danger.
Am I still in danger?
Jonathon gets off the gurney and he moves as if he’s going to put his arm around me, then stops. “We’ll get you to my place. You can have a hot shower and go to bed. I’ll keep my distance, Mia, so don’t worry. I really care about you, but I respect that you love another man.”
***
Jonathon suggests I talk to my mother via Skype so she can see I’m all right except for the two cuts on my face. I have to admit I can’t do that. The only computer we had at our house was mine. It’s at the dorm, obviously, not at home. So I call her.
I want to call her right away even before I take a bath. At the front door, there is a huge mirror in a silver frame, and I caught a glimpse of my reflection. Gah! My hair is muddy and tangled, I have tape running over my jaw, and my forehead is dirty—they scrubbed off the places that needed attendance at the hospital. The tape is supposed to stand up to some bathing, but I remember the nurse advising me against a shower.
Jonathon sends a maid to run a bath for me. Really, like in a historical romance.
Then I call Mom. Feeling guilty and awful, I croak into the phone, “Hi Mom. I’ve got something to tell you. It’s kind of bad, but it turned out okay.” At least for now. Jonathon and Lara left me in here alone for privacy. It’s a kind of drawing room, which is filled with sumptuous, comfortable chairs, and has a phone. Lara went upstairs to get changed into pyjamas, since she changed out of them to pack a few things and come here.
I kind of wish I had someone around. Not because I’m scared, but to step in with advice. I have no idea how to tell my mom something like this.
“Mom, I didn’t tell you everything that happened at Yardley this term.” My throat feels achy.
Do not cry, I tell myself. I have to talk to her. Blubbering will just scare her.
“Is something wrong, Mia?” Her speech has slowed and lost the cheerfulness with which she said hi.
“It’s okay. I’m not hurt or anything. Well, not badly. I have a couple of cuts, but—”
“Mia, what’s happened?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“At the beginning. Just start there and tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out. I won’t be angry, I promise.”
I bite my lip. She may be angry; she’ll definitely be scared. “Okay. I guess it started with an email I received from someone I didn’t know…” I go from there, and tell her about the messages, the picture under the door, and how I took everything to campus security.
She doesn’t say anything, but I can hear her breathing. It’s strange and shallow, like she’s in shock. Now I have to give her the worst news. “I was walking back from studio to my room—”
“Alone? Oh God, at night? Mia—” She stops. “I’m sorry. I won’t say anything. Please, just tell me.” Then in a very small voice. “Are you all right?”
“I am, mom. I promise. The guy followed me. At least I assume it’s the same guy. He grabbed me and pulled me behind some bushes. He had a knife and he was going to—to sexually assault me. But Jonathon stopped him. Jonathon kicked him off me, did this incredible judo throw and had the guy pinned. He did until he was almost stabbed. The guy got away.”
I’m panting when I finished. I threw it all out without stopping for breath.
“Mia, I want to come up there.”
“Mom, you can’t. You can never get time off from the diner.”
“I don’t care.” She sounds steely, but as if she could fracture. “I have to see you.”
“It’s not necessary. I’m okay.”
“You should come home.”
Oh God. “I can’t. I have projects to finish. They’re due in a few days and I don’t have time to come home.”
Footsteps sound behind me. I jump around, holding the phone, my heart in my throat. The person behind me is Jonathon, of course. He carries a glass of white wine and he holds it out to me.
“Just a sec, mom,” I say.
“Just a sec?” she echoes in shock. “What do you mean, ‘just a second’?”
“I just have to talk to someone.” I put my hand over the receiver. “She wants to come here. She can’t afford it, and I’m terrified she’ll lose her job if she does.”
Jonathon takes the phone from me and gives me the wine. “I’ll deal.”
He introduces himself to my mother and explains to her that I’m okay, and that he intends to watch over me at all times until the guy is caught. He also asks her that if she has any trouble g
etting away from her job, to let her know, and he will take care of it.
When I get back on, she says, “What does he mean that he will take care of it? Who is he, Mia?”
“His father is very wealthy and influential. I think that’s what he means.”
She tells me she will come up in a couple of days and stay at an inn in the village. I know she would feel better to see me.
But just before I hang up, I warn her, “Don’t tell Ryan what happened. Please. It will only make him worry. Or he might do something crazy too. Like come up here and get in trouble with his school.”
She’s reluctant. But she agrees to keep my secret.
As I hang up, I’m thinking about Ryan and what I should do. But I’m also thinking about what Jonathon said.
I really care about you.
Chapter Ten
Rain splatters on my face. Lightning flashes over me. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs but no sound comes out. I’m fighting to move, but I can’t. Something’s holding me by my arms and I can’t break free—
The guy in the mask shoves me down on the ground. He’s pulling my jeans off, tearing at them with claw-like hands. Laughing at me. His breath smells foul and I’m choking on it. I’m lying on the wet, freezing cold ground, desperately trying to cover my bare breasts so he can’t look at them, and he hauls my legs apart.
I scream and scream but this time no one will find me. This time I did something stupid and I let this guy get me and take me away—
I scream and kick wildly. My eyes open and I’m staring at the ceiling of my bedroom at Jonathon’s house, tangling my feet in the covers.
Oh God, it was just a dream. I’m perfectly safe.
Not really safe—since the guy is still out there.
There’s a soft knock at the door. “Mia, are you all right?”
“Come in.” My voice trembles. I just need someone with me. I need to know, for sure, that I am awake now. That being in Jonathon’s house and being safe isn’t the dream, and I’m really in danger.