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My body freezes at his words. For the first time, I’m actually tensing being around him. My eyes widen for a moment, and I try like hell to not let him see how badly he touched a sensitive subject, but no matter how fast I put my walls back up, he grins at me. He knows he got to me. Fuck.
He releases his hand around my throat and runs his thumb along my bottom lip. As badly as I want to push off him and beat the ever living shit out of him, my body didn’t get the memo. I can feel the heat building between my legs. A part of me doesn’t want him to stop touching me. A sick part of me, but a part of me nonetheless.
But he pulls away, leaving me feeling so cold, almost missing his burn when he touches me. I watch him and the others walk away. For a moment, I close my eyes and wish to be anywhere else but at this god forsaken place. When I finally open them, I look around to see the halls empty and everyone in their classes. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. I can’t go to that class.
He’s there. Dax will be in that room.
I just can’t go.
I’m done for the day. They can mark me absent, they can give me detention. I have zero fucks to give.
I leave the Emerson building and head back towards my dorm. I need some silence, some solitary confinement of my own. I just need to regroup and get my head back on straight. Those three have some weird effect on me, not to mention they are everywhere I turn. I can’t escape them.
They are in my classes, my breaks, everywhere. And their fucking minions remind me that they are too. They set the school to fuck with me, make fun of me, try to scare me off.
I’m supposed to be alone, flying under the radar. Yet somehow, just my presence has completely disrupted their way of life enough that they need to make me miserable because of that. I didn’t even want to be here, yet here I am, taking the bullshit.
When I reach my room, I head back towards my bedroom. I let out a sigh as I push open the door, ready to feel the immediate release of all the stress that has been building up. But it never comes.
I’m frozen when I walk past the door and see what’s laying on my bed. My made bed, a bed I know I just rolled out of this morning. And unless the dorms suddenly have a cleaning service I don’t know about, someone was in my room.
I slowly creep up towards the freshly made bed and find my black lace bra and thong laid out on it. I know when I left this morning, it wasn’t there. My bed was absolutely not made. That set was in my drawer tucked in the back.
Looking over at the dresser, nothing on it looks out of place. Except the lace set laid out in front of me. My space, my room, my surroundings start to feel tainted, poisoned.
Someone was in this room.
I clench my fists at my sides, my surprise turning to anger. I walk over to my closet and head towards the back where I have a pile of clothes and my suitcase sitting in the corner. I shift the clothes and pull back the carpet that was laid there. Underneath is a little cut out that I found when I moved in. I lift the top of the hideaway and look inside to still see the taped-up box that my mom gave me.
I let out a sigh of relief. I hastily put everything back and roam around the room to make sure everything else is where I left it.
Crazy thing is, I’m doubting everything I see. My mind is playing tricks on me. Did my notebook move? Was that pencil there? Why just leave my stuff on the bed? Why just that?
I take a deep breath and walk over to the bed and scoop up the offending garments. I place them back into the corner of the dresser, definitely never to be worn again. God only knows who touched them.
I sit on my bed and stare at the framed picture of my mom on the night stand next to me.
“Why? Why did you have to leave me? I wasn’t enough. Not for you, not for dad.” I wipe the tears from my eyes. “Why were you so selfish to think I was better without you? I’m not, Mom. I needed you.”
Since I’ve been here, I haven’t heard a peep from my aunt. She has shipped me off and doesn’t care at all about what’s going on. And honestly, I’m not sad she’s not keeping contact with me. The woman is horrible. I wish I still didn’t even know I had an aunt. One less person to be disappointed in. One less person to realize that all they care about is themselves.
I get up and lock my door, making sure no one can disturb me. I head back into my closet and grab the box I hid. Then I bring it back out and sit on my bed, staring at it, waiting for it to do something. Combust, open itself, tell me what to do with it, just anything at this point.
This whole week has been shit. My life has been turned upside down, and now I’m stuck here playing with the one percent of Massachusetts in this closed-off rich kingdom of theirs. Why? Why did the dominos fall this way?
I peel back the tape slowly on the shoe box. My hands shake, and my heart feels like its ready to rip out of my chest. I carefully lift the top and place it to the side of the box. The inside of the box is confusing. There are newspaper clippings, receipts, printed letters, and a manilla folder.
“What the hell did you leave me, Mom?” I pick up the white envelope that has my name on it. Ever so carefully, I peel it back and take out the folded piece of paper.
My eyes widen when I see it’s a note from my mom.
My dearest little bird,
If you have this box, it means I had to move on from this life. And I’m so sorry. I didn’t have a choice. I tried to fight it. I tried to come up with anything other than what I found. But I failed.
Especially if you are in fact reading this.
Please know I will miss you, and your father, and I love you. I hope you didn’t see me at my weakest, and I hope you have grown strong since I’ve been gone.