Even When I'm Gone (Stay With Me series Book 2)

by Nicole Fiorina

  Sitting alone, I watched Mia from afar. I hid under a beanie and a hood, blindly swiveling my fork in whatever was on my tray with my attention on Mia like a vulture. My teeth hurt from constant grinding. With eyes fixed on her, I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out a piece of gum before popping it into my mouth.

  She couldn’t see me, but I could see her.

  Her smile was gone.

  She sat, staring at the table before her as the rest of them talked around her like she didn’t matter. She was lost. She needed me. I need you more—so much it fucking hurt. I was a shadow, the dark side. I was once the light casting shadows. Now I didn’t know where this light was coming from that caused me to still … simply exit.

  Yes, I do.

  That light was the constant reminder of what was waiting for me after this darkness would leave. It pointed above me like a flashlight—the memory of us. Instead of standing in it, with my hand in hers, I was cast to the bottom as a black silhouette. A different shade. The shade of being without.

  A place I never wanted to be.

  My eyes never left hers as I plotted my next move until it hurt too much. Then I clenched my eyes closed, disconnecting what we had become and imagining what we used to be. Remembering Mia’s touch, her sweet soothing voice, the vibrations of us in the same room, and the way she used to make me feel. I ignored the clinking of my rings against the edge of the table as my finger tapped nervously.

  My eyes stung from the inability to shed a single tear since the moment she left me on my knees at my door. My heart was turning cold. I felt it spread to my bones. All the warmth, gone. Tighter, I screwed my eyes together. The clinking increased, the only sound now in my ears.

  I couldn’t even imagine her kiss anymore. I couldn’t imagine up a single moment of us together. All I saw was the darkness.

  And then I was transported, shifted to a time I never wanted to remember.

  It’s cold—too cold. The only warmth is me in this small closet. Though, if I take my hands off my ears to hug myself, I hear the cries. “O,” I whisper through the pitch black. His outline is visible from the light that bleeds through the hole of the door—the hole an angry old man punched through when he heard me cry. So, now I stay silent, as quiet as I can.

  Oscar’s breathing grows louder as his fingers wrap around his knob when I wish they were around me, keeping me warm. I try to look away, but I can’t. He’s on his knees, eyes watching over my mum. He’s probably making sure she doesn’t get hurt again, but it looks like he’s hurting himself instead, the way his hand is moving angrily up and down his knob. Maybe he has to go potty. He doesn’t need to do that. It just comes out by itself. You just get the feeling.

  “Come here,” O whispers, one hand on his knob, the other waving me over. I don’t want to move from this spot though. When I don’t, his hand reaches behind my neck and forces me forward, and pins me against the door. “Mum is getting fucked. Soon you’ll be able to do that. Not to her, because that’s gross, but you’ll be able to fuck girls like a real man.”

  My eyes remain shut as I try to pull away, refusing to acknowledge the sin I know is before me. Oscar pinches my neck, the pain cuts through me, causing my eyes to pop open. Mum is leaning over the kitchen counter and I can’t turn away, but my brain begs to turn it off—to make it stop.

  My mum rocks harshly, slamming against the counter as he slams in from behind her, and her head falls back.

  No, it didn’t fall.

  He yanked it.

  The demon has his hands in her raven-black hair, as his hairy chest beats against her back.

  “No,” I breathe.

  “Yes,” O hisses. “Soon enough, I’ll take over the business. You and me, brother. We can finally get out of this hole, have this fucking town and all the pussy eating out of the palm of our hands.” I want to ask what he means, but I can’t say more. Oscar’s fingers dig into the back of my neck, the cold grips me, the cries from my mum slice through me, and what I see stains me. “But I’ll call the shots, Oliver,” he breathes, each word comes out harsh and uneven. “And if you ever touch one of my girls, I’ll make you watch me beat into them until you’ll want to tear your own eyes out. That’s a promise, brother.” Oscar slams me against the cold wall, and although it hurts, I’m just thankful I can’t see mum anymore.

  Oscar hits his palm against the doorframe as his body jerks forward until he turns to mush. With a small tilt of his head, his eyes pierce mine.

  Evil. Dark. Wicked.

  I grimace.

  “Don’t worry, Oliver. I’ll find you a nice fanny. But never one of mine.”

  My eyes flew open to see Mia gone. Her entire table vanished. I scanned the mess hall as people retreated to their dorms.

  I’d always remembered my past. Memories had always haunted me, feasted on me, but it had always been a constant reminder of the kind of man I refused to be. But since I’d been playing nice with the pills, the demons inside had different plans for my past. They used it to taunt me, to aggravate me, and to laugh at me.

  Jerry appeared beside me. “Time to go.”

  Angrily, I pushed out of my chair, gathered my rubbish, and disposed of it in the can in passing. My thoughts lingered to its usual place—Mia.

  Tension wrapped its fingers around my skull, digging its nails into my bones. Moving down the wing, I sensed Mia near. The buzz in my soul was unmistakable. My heart vibrated inside its cage the devil created, and my shameless dick ached to be inside her, to remind her.

  Halfway down the hall, I stopped in my tracks and lifted my head until my eyes met hers. Pajama pants I’d never seen before laid low on her hips. I’d known every article of clothing she’d once owned. I didn’t know anymore because I lived in a world without her.

  Lost wet strands stuck to her neck along with the beads of water she failed to dry off as the rest of her hair piled carelessly on top of her head.

  Mia’s golden-brown eyes pinned me still, glowing and full of life.

  She was perfectly fine, never slipped. Perhaps she had always been fine without me.

  Mia had me imprisoned in the heartache, and it hurt to look at her. The agony intensified, burrowing into the marrow of my bones. I wished I could rip them out.

  Standing feet away, I took notice in the way her tiny hairs raised over her bare arms. My eyes roamed over her, inch by inch. Goosebumps coated her, and my eyes made the journey down to her bra-less chest, staring at me, taunting me like the bloody shadows.

  She turned away, and I wanted her to stop this pain eating away at me—put me out of my misery. It was the least she could do.

  She lost her bloody grip, yet I still loved her to the point I hated her.

  And right now, I wanted to fuck her to show her how much.

  Like when water was so cold, it burned.

  Frostbite.

  mia.

  It wasn’t just six hours ago I’d pushed Ollie away, yet he stood there staring at me like I was a snack—jaw tensing, fists clenching, nostrils flaring. Feral cat-like eyes nailed me in place. It only took one glimpse into his angry eyes to know I’d gotten to him.

  I pushed my door open, and an inferno landed against my back, guiding me forward through my doorway. Familiar fingers gripped my sides eagerly, digging into the crevices of muscle and bone. A gasp rolled from my lips, and Ollie kicked the door closed behind us. All my belongings dropped to the floor. Recognizable lips brushed my earlobe as his tall frame pressed against me from behind, pinning me to the door.

  Ollie—familiar, warm, safe. My heart hummed from his closeness. A heated breath raked over my cold skin, and the familiar minted aroma became a well-known passenger between us. Wordlessly, Ollie slid his fingers inside the band of my pajama bottoms and panties, pushing them down my thighs, scraping fingers over my skin.

  “Ollie … ” The tears in my ey
es blurred the scene around me, and my sex ignited, begging for a fix of him—to be touched and adored by him. Pushing him away would’ve been an impossible task.

  His teeth scraped over my shoulder to the nape of my neck as his hard length rubbed against me. I reached behind me wanting to touch him, to feel my fingers in his messy hair, but he snatched my wrist and gathered both my hands in one of his, planting them over the door before us. His demeanor was off-kilter—needy and angry.

  With one hand, he pushed against the middle of my back until my face flattened against the door. His grip tightened around my wrist, and his knee broke apart my legs. Defenseless and exposed, the fangs of desire sunk their teeth into me as my center pulsated to his tune. Ollie would never hurt me, and my heart needed to be refueled by him.

  “I wanted to fuck her, but I couldn’t,” Ollie informed, his voice stiff and without emotion. “I physically couldn’t because I’m a slave to you.” A single finger slid through my sex, and I shivered. Ollie dropped his head over my shoulder, drawing in a breath. I tried to turn to look at him, but he withdrew his hand and pressed my face against the door again, pinning me in place.

  Confusion seized me blind.

  His palm returned to me, dragging through my dripping wet center, not focusing on pleasing me, but every movement he made was for himself—and again, I did nothing to stop him. I embraced him; the closeness of him, his touch, his ragged breath spilling over my skin. I embraced it all.

  Fingers pushed inside me—stretching me, thrusting into me, fucking me.

  “Tell me to stop,” Ollie warned, his voice broken and troubled as he pumped in and out. When I didn’t answer, he pulled me back against him before gripping the back of my neck with his other hand. He thrust into me harder—hungrier, and more demanding. “Dammit, Mia. Stop me!”

  “No!” I screamed.

  He released his grip from my wrist, and in a moment when I thought something snapped inside him, his cock emerged from his pants, grinding and rubbing between my crack—hard, solid, and untamed. Ollie embodied a wave of fury, clenching my hipbones, and dragging me from the door before slamming me against the desk.

  Still, I wasn’t scared, only worried for him … because this wasn’t him. He’d never manhandled me. He’d never pushed me. He’d never fucked me. And everything screaming inside me knew it was exactly what he was about to do. For the first time, Ollie was going to fuck me. Before I had the chance to turn and face him, Ollie wrapped his fingers in my bun and pressed my face down.

  As if I lost all will to move, I morphed into whatever he needed because I didn’t want to say no. This time, I was his punching bag. With my chest pressed against the—now cleared—desk, legs spread wide, and my bottom in the air, I felt his fingers pull me apart as his swollen cock drove inside me. I chewed my lip to fight a sound from escaping until blood drew and crept into my mouth as he continued his revenge on me.

  Over and over, he pounded into me with a fist in my knotted hair, yanking my head back.

  Over and over, his familiar pelvis slammed into me in an unfamiliar way as my eyes stayed fixed on the mattress where we used to make love.

  Over and over, fingers digging, leaving marks deeper than the skin, until warm semen pumped inside me from his pulsing weapon.

  Then everything stopped.

  Silence.

  Stillness.

  He stayed pinned, deep inside me. His entire body trembled as he gasped for a steady breath. Time passed slow—too slow—as we both froze in the moment still connected. I never saw his face because he refused to let me see him like this. It was as if he faced me, he wouldn’t have been able to go through with it, yet it still broke him because his body shook in regret.

  Finally, he pulled out, and the warm liquid dripped down my thigh, but I still couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I gripped my eyelids shut, turning my teeth to the inside of my cheek.

  Seconds passed, and the sound of my door closing behind him was the only indication his unsettling retribution was over.

  The small hand lingered over the three as I waited for Ethan to come through the door. He should have been here by now. The one night I desperately needed to not feel alone, I was. I remembered the days when all I’d wanted was to be alone. I’d never needed anyone until I fell victim to love.

  I wasn’t angry with Ollie for what he did, if anything, he showed me a part of him, and I finally understood. Like a blanket, he wrapped me up in the hell—the place he couldn’t break free from—to give me a morsel of the torture he faced daily. Each word he’d uttered, I’d felt the struggle inside him. Each time he’d gripped me tighter, it had been an unsaid cry for help. Each breath had been a scream. Every thrust had been a beg for mercy, and the only person who truly took the beating had been him.

  I’d felt it.

  Like a ghost walking the planes of the earth aimlessly, lost and confused, unheard and unseen, I’d felt Ollie’s internal pain. And it was that same feeling that kept my eyes open in the slow passing hours of the night.

  My eyes stayed open, heavy yet fighting, locked on the door across the room until the sun came up blazing through the window. The only sound was the rattling of the vent. My mind spun like a frantic racing hamster on a wheel. Round and round. The visit from my father. Ollie. The glass in my mattress. Ollie. The dead cat. Ollie. Focusing turned into an impossible action I couldn’t grasp.

  Then the unlocking of the wing sounded, reminding me I haven’t gotten a lick of sleep.

  Usually, I would have jumped out of bed at the sound. I would have—should have—collected my belongings and head to the community bathroom before everyone else. But it was Saturday.

  Saturday’s used to be spent in the library with Ollie. Then they used to be spent with Zeke in the group therapy room on the piano. But now I didn’t want to leave my bed as I lie awake, naked, and drained from my short trip to Ollie’s hell.

  My eyelids felt like two elephants were sitting on them, and I’d only closed them for, what felt like, a second when a pounding at my door had them snap back open to the clock above.

  Nine.

  Two hours came and gone in the blink of an eye.

  I’d fallen asleep.

  I jumped out of bed, threw on my hoodie and sweatpants, and peeked my head through the door. Chaos broke out in the hall. Shouting coursed around me. People scattered as papers littered the floor and painted the walls. White everywhere.

  Ethan held a red-faced Bria back from Tyler.

  Jerry had a guy in zip-ties faced against the wall.

  Liam cowered in the corner as two members of his crew surrounded him.

  Jake stomped toward me, eyes glossy, face wet, and chin shaking uncontrollably. “You promised!” he screamed, clutching a paper in his hand. “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

  I snatched the paper out of Jake’s hand, and my eyes eagerly scanned over its contents as my heartrate spiked. My handwriting. The papers were covered in my handwriting. Tears blurred my line of vision, dropping from my eyes and landing on the ink, smearing the words together. It only took the first sentence to know exactly what everyone else knew.

  The pages from my diary corrupted the hallway, filled their minds, and fueled their aggression toward each other. Everyone’s secrets had been spilled.

  “No … ” I breathed, turning my head at the scene around me. People screamed at each other, tears bled out, venom spewed, spit flew as if it all happened in slow motion. Turning, I headed toward my desk. I ransacked my room for the journal I’d spent two months writing in since Dr. Conway gave it to me.

  For two months, the journal had been my best friend, kindly accepting every thought I had of everyone, allowing me to share everyone’s deepest secrets so I didn’t have to carry the burden on my own. My brain went haywire as I remembered every secret that passed from my fingers, through the pen, onto the paper. T
he same papers that someone plastered on display for everyone to see. “This can’t be happening … ”

  Gone. My journal was gone.

  Empty-handed, I stood in the middle of my room. Tyler appeared beside me, hurt evident in her eyes. “You selfish cow,” her lips mouthed, but I couldn’t hear her, her voice drowned out by the screaming in the hallway and the clouding of my brain. Pushing past her, I needed to get away. I ran past her, shoving between people to find a way out.

  To my left, Ollie stood posted-up in his doorway, shoulder resting against the frame. Empty green eyes locked on mine as his expression remained bleak and hollow. His lips parted, and for a second my stupid mind believed he’d pull me into his arms, but instead, his eyes turned away from me.

  Curse words swarmed in the air, all directed at me, and I continued forward until their comments faded behind.

  In a daze, my hand pushed open the library door, and my feet walked through the same maze I’ve traveled more than a dozen times before until my body curled into a ball in the only spot I could be alone and no one could find me. The same place Ollie created for me.

  And it was there I closed my eyes and begged for sleep to take me away from this nightmare.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Once upon a time, there was a girl with a black heart and a lost soul. She was unpredictable, impulsive, never allowed anyone close enough.”

  “Don’t tell me you fell for her.”

  “I am … falling, that is. No one tells you about the fall, how once it starts it never stops. But that’s a story for another day, my friend.”

  “Go on.”

  “They said she wasn’t capable of feeling, but the way she looked at me said otherwise. They said she was better off alone, but her kiss pleaded for me not to leave. They said I was wasting my time, but my heart begged to differ. They said she was the devil … ”

  “And what did you say?”