by Farlow, LK
“Why not?” I whisper.
Sterling brings his left hand up and trails his knuckles over my cheek.
Suddenly, I’m thankful the wall is at my back to support me, because his touch—as unwanted as it is—has my entire body off-kilter. Whether it’s the juxtaposition of the threat in his words and the softness of his touch, or simply fear, I’m not sure. Either way, I hate that a man as rotten as him can make me feel anything at all.
“You’re a psych major, right?” He pauses and I nod. “Then you need this class.”
“I can take it next semester.”
“No, I don’t think you can.”
“Why?” I want to stomp my feet at the injustice of this whole situation.
I’m the one who was wronged, in the most atrocious of ways, and yet I’m also the one being punished.
“Because, little mouse, if you drop this class, you’ll derail your entire college career.”
“That’s not... that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
I know there’s a shred of truth to his words. I guess what it really comes down to is how much I’m willing to endure to make my dreams a reality. Yesterday, I was willing to do anything to cement my future.
Plus, what’s the worst Sterling Abbot can truly do to me?
Chapter Nine
Sterling
I can see the implication of my words as they hit. She knows I’m right; she knows if she drops this class, she won’t be able to take at least one of the classes she wants next semester.
However, I need to make sure she stays.
Emmy falling into my lap like this is too good of an opportunity to pass up, and I’m damn sure willing to play dirty if it ensures she gets what’s coming to her.
“Well, maybe—”
“It’s so interesting to me,” I cut her off, my words intentionally vague.
“What is?”
“You showing up here, in that little dress.”
Her eyes widen at my insinuation. “What? It’s... it’s just a dress.”
“Short.” I reach down and finger the material of the hemline, my knuckle grazing the soft, smooth skin of her thigh. “Thin. It’s barely fit for public.”
Wetness gathers along her lashes, but she doesn’t speak. In fact, she doesn’t even move. She’s as still as a statue.
“I’d hate for it to get back to the dean that you came to your professor’s office and propositioned him.” I click my tongue and slowly shake my head back and forth. “I imagine having such a blight on your record would be troublesome. Especially given your past.”
“You’re a monster.” Her voice breaks and the brimming tears spill over.
I step away from her, a smug look on my face. “You know what they say... takes one to know one.”
Her entire body is practically vibrating in anger. I fucking love it.
“You wouldn’t!”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“It’s... you’d be lying!”
“That’s your area of expertise, is it not?” A sharp bark of laughter punctuates my words. “Poor little Princess Price. So eager to ruin the lives of others but whimpers and whines when she’s paid back in kind.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispers vehemently.
She’s good. Convincing. But I know better. She’s a foolish girl prone to poor choices. A selfish girl. A liar. And it ends here. I won’t let her ruin someone else’s life. No, I’ll ruin hers instead.
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.”
She tries to shove past me, but I’m not quite ready to let her go.
“Not so fast.”
Emmy tries again to push past me, and now I’m pissed.
“I said not so fast.” I grab her wrists and mercilessly shove them into the wall over her head. She struggles against my hold, but her fight only excites me. I squeeze her delicate wrists even tighter as I press against her with my hips.
She stills instantly at our intimate position. But sex is not what I’m here for, even if the thought of fucking her until she’s sobbing my name is tempting enough to have me rocking a semi.
“What?” she hisses the word, anger and frustration and fear, all dripping from the single syllable.
“You will stay in this class. You will take whatever I dish out. And you’ll do it with a goddamn smile.”
“Why are you doing this?”
She sounds so small, so broken. All the easier to break her more. “You know why, and I won’t hesitate to rain down hell on you if you don’t play my game, Emmalyn. You deserve all of this and more.”
Resigned, she shakes her head. “Am I free to go?”
I release her wrists and step away. “As free as a bird with clipped wings.”
She doesn’t waste a second and flees toward the door. I expect her to haul ass out of here without sparing me a second glance, but instead, she surprises me and pauses. “You’re wrong. I know you don’t believe me, but you are. You’re so very wrong.”
And with those parting words, she slips out of the door, leaving me to wonder when she became such a skilled liar.
Chapter Ten
Emmy
I run out of the office like the hounds of hell are nipping at my heels, because they are.
I run like my life depends on it.
Despite my entire body shaking like a leaf, I run all the way back to my dorm building, not caring even an iota about the shouting and glaring students I leave in my wake.
My entire world is imploding, collapsing in on me, and I have no clue how to stop it.
“Damnit, just open!” I wave my badge in front of the sensor for the third time. Finally, it flashes green, and I dash through the door, bypassing the elevator for the stairs.
The thought of waiting even a second for the car to come is enough to send me over the edge into full-blown hysteria.
I’m panting and covered in a fine sheen of sweat by the time I burst out of the stairwell.
My hands shake as I try and slide my key into the lock.
The sound of the elevator doors parting, followed by footsteps, sends a fresh bout of terror zipping through me.
At this point, I may as well be trying to thread a needle rather than insert a key into a lock.
The footsteps grow closer, sending my entire being, mind and body into overdrive.
“Just do it, damnit!” I mutter, finally shoving the key into the hole.
I disengage the lock and throw the door open right as someone calls my name. “Emmy!” The voice is familiar, but I’m taking no chances.
Without responding, I race into my suite and slam the door behind me, promptly locking it again.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.” I press my back against the door and slide to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. “Just breathe.”
Overhead, the doorknob rattles, and I scramble up from the floor and into my room, slamming and locking that door as well. I dive beneath my covers, burying myself in them.
If the monster can’t see me, it can’t get me.
“Emmy!” A sharp knock on my bedroom door follows. “Emmy, you’re freaking me the hell out. Open the door.”
“It’s only Stella,” I whisper to myself. But still, I don’t move. I can’t move. My body is locked in place, my muscles seemingly paralyzed with fear.
“Please open the door. I need to know that you’re safe.”
I will myself to move. To speak. To do something to let my friend know I’m okay.
“I’ll get Melanie if I have to.” Her words are thick with worry—worry for me.
I can’t even begin to recall the last time someone worried over me.
It’s that worry that has my muscles unclenching enough to haul myself from the bed.
The second I unlock the door, Stella pushes through it, her eyes wide and her lips trembling. “Are you okay? Talk to me, Emmy. I’m begging you.”
“I’m...” I manage to croak, then the tears start a
new.
“Babe, you’re seriously freaking me out. Do you... is there anyone I can call?” She slides her phone from her back pocket. “Your mom?”
“No!” I shout, knocking the slim device from her hand.
She stares at me in shock. “Okay. That’s fine. On one condition.”
“Anything.” My voice is desperate... pleading. “Anything!”
“You gotta talk to me.”
I shake my head back and forth, nerves outweighing logic. But Stella cuts her eyes at me in a way that has me changing my tune.
“Okay,” I whisper. “But... you can’t... you have to promise not to judge me. Do you promise?”
Stella tucks a strand of honey-colored hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I promise.”
“Can I change first?” I glance down at my outfit, and the ghost of Sterling’s citrusy male scent burns my nostrils. “And maybe shower, too?”
“Yup. I’ll be here when you finish.”
I nod my thanks and then grab a fresh pair of leggings and my coziest sweatshirt before darting to the bathroom.
I’m half tempted to throw out the clothes I’m wearing, but ultimately decide washing them will be sufficient. The thought of giving him more than I already have pains me. He doesn’t deserve any part of me—not my tears, not my worry, and definitely not my time.
With the water scalding hot, I step beneath the spray and scrub away the remnants of his touch until my skin is pink and raw.
I towel off, throw on my clothes, and twine my damp hair into a braid. I don’t feel better, per se, but I feel clean, and that’s something.
When I step back out in the living area, the scent of freshly brewed coffee greets me. “Thank you,” I murmur, graciously accepting the mug Stella passes me.
The warmth of the beverage comforts me; if only it could also give me courage for the talk we’re about to have.
“Let’s sit,” she says, nodding to the couch.
I sit pressed against the arm, my shoulders slightly hunched and my legs pulled up, with my coffee balanced between my knees and chest.
Stella offers me a throw blanket, but I decline, mostly because I don’t want to move. She claims the spot beside me and smiles a soft, watery smile. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t know where to start,” I admit, tears already pricking.
“I hear the beginning is a pretty good place.”
“My dad died when I was eight. I don’t even think grass had grown over his grave dirt when my mom remarried.” My heart constricts painfully in my chest, aching for a man I hardly remember. “Robert, my stepdad, he was okay. Rich as the devil. He never really paid me much mind.”
I shrug and then drain my mug, leaning forward to place it on the coffee table. “His son, Rob, on the other hand... he took notice of me, and not in a good way.”
Memories better left dead and buried assault me, flashing through my mind like some D-List horror movie reel.
“How old are you anyway?” asks the little boy with an angry mouth from the top of the stairs. He stands up there like some kind of lonely king, lording over the manor.
“Almost nine,” I tell him, glaring.
“So, eight then. A baby.”
I stomp my foot on the cold marble floor. Mother told me he’s a pre-teen, so we’re almost-kinda-sorta the same age. “I’m not a baby!”
“Then prove it.”
“How?” I ask, wanting more than ever for my new brother to like me.
I’ve always wanted a sibling, but Mom says you couldn’t pay her to have another baby. So, if a stepbrother is all I get, I’ll take it.
He starts down the hall. “Follow me,” he says, looking at me over his shoulder, his eyes daring me.
I dart up the stairs after him, my Mary Janes tap-tap-tapping as I run. “Hey! Wait up!”
“I don’t wait for babies.”
Huffing, I push my little legs faster. “I’m not a baby!”
“Yeah, you said that.” He slows his pace as we near a section of the house I’ve never explored. “Time to put your money where your mouth is.”
“What’s that mean?” I ask, trying to peer around him.
He smirks in that way boys do before they pull your pigtail. “It means you gotta show me you’re brave. Because I don’t hang out with losers.”
“Well, I’m not a loser either!”
Rob turns his back to me and steps into a small alcove. I notice a door to the right; it’s one of those tiny ones that even I have to duck down to walk through. His lips twist in a way that makes me question if I should trust him or not.
“Get in,” he says, opening the door.
“In there?”
“Unless you’re... scared.” He spits the word like it’s worse than cold broccoli dunked in puke.
And I am. Scared, that is.
The dark is where all of the big-bads hide, but I’d rather get grounded for a month than let him know I’m scared of the dark.
“Fine,” I say, my voice shaking.
I step into the small, dark room. The air is hot and smells like my grandma’s closet. I don’t like it.
“There!” I shout triumphantly. “I did it!”
“Not so fast,” he says when I try to step back into the alcove.
“What?”
“Just walking inside is lame. You gotta stay inside.”
“For how long?” My neck itches at the thought of staying in here.
“Until I say so.”
I try to swallow, but there’s a lump in my throat. “Fine.”
With a look that can only be described as evil, Rob swings the door shut.
I close my eyes and count to sixty, while Rob shuffles around outside of the door. “Okay! Let me out now.”
A cold laugh sounds from the other side of the door. “No. I don’t think I will.”
“What?” Fear slithers down my spine.
“I said no. You’ll stay here for as long as I want you to. Who knows... maybe I’ll never let you out.”
I push against the door, but it doesn’t budge. He’s blocked it somehow. “Rob! Let me out!”
He laughs but doesn’t say anything.
“Rob! Please!” My voice breaks as I begin to cry. “Please let me out.”
“Told you you were a big baby. And babies get punished.”
“I’ll scream,” I threaten.
“Do it. No one will hear you.”
Stella’s eyes are damp as she asks, “Did he leave you?”
“Yeah.” I tug my sleeves down to cover my palms, using the soft cotton to wipe my tears. “He did.”
“How long?”
“Until the next morning.”
“What?” Stella shouts, outraged.
“Yeah, and because I missed dinner—he told my mom that I refused to come downstairs, and she was too lazy to check on me—so she punished me by not letting me eat the next day.”
“What in the hell is wrong with your family?”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “This was only the start.”
Stella cringes. “I’m so scared that I already know where it ends.”
I stare blankly ahead, not answering.
“Emmy, did he... did he hurt you?”
“Are you asking if he hit me?”
“And other... stuff...”
I give a sharp nod, and she bursts into tears, crying as though my hurts are her own.
“Oh, Emmy. I’m so sorry.” She reaches out, as if to hug me, and while I’m not a huge fan of physical contact, I lean into her embrace and let her comfort me. “You don’t have to tell me anything else, but I’m here if you ever want or need to talk. Or even just to cry. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, tasting the salt of my tears.
After several long minutes, she releases me. “I have to ask...”
“What?”
“Where does Sterling fit into all of this?”
“He’s Rob’s best friend.”
&nb
sp; “So, it’s some bro-code thing? Because, babe, that’s some bullshit.”
“Yeah, it is.” I nibble on my lower lip, debating whether or not I want to say more. “After Rob...after he...no one believed me. Everyone turned against me, even my own mother. Everyone back home says I ruined Rob’s life. When in reality, he’s the one who destroyed me, over and over.”
Stella places her hands to my cheeks, holding my gaze on hers. “You. Are. Not. Broken. Do you hear me? You’ve survived unspeakable things. You’re not broken, or damaged, or a victim. You’re a freaking survivor, and some white-collar loyal lapdog isn’t going to take away or degrade everything you’ve worked so hard to overcome!”
Her cheeks are rosy, and her chest is heaving by the time she finishes. Her words aren’t empty; they’re a vow, and the power behind them settles over my soul like a balm.
For the first time in a long time, I truly have someone in my corner... someone who gets me. And my God, it’s good to be got.
Chapter Eleven
Sterling
I’ve been counting down the hours until today’s class.
A twisted sense of pride at her easy defeat has me wanting to pound my chest.
I emerged from our first battle the victor, and while the taste was sweet, I want to win the war.
“Hey, Sterling,” a blonde coed coos as she enters the classroom. I’m kicked back behind the podium, waiting to see if my little mouse is going to show up today. I nod, both in greeting and as a subtle dismissal—one blondie isn’t picking up on.
“I was wondering, do you offer tutoring? I’d hate to fall behind.”
“It’s the second day of class,” I deadpan, cocking my head to the side, studying her. She’s a looker with perky tits, tan skin, big blue eyes, and glossy blonde hair.
She’s also got mean girl written all over her, and as shitty as it makes me, I’m already weighing her usefulness. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger and bats her obviously fake lashes. “Of course. This class is so important.” She licks her lips and drags her eyes over my body. “And I’m always down for a little extra credit.”