Page 58 of Conquered (Highgate Preparatory Academ:y Compendium)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LILLY
A week goes by, then two, and in all that time the guys have completely avoided me.
They're gone before I come down in the morning, and are absent when I get back at night.
Loki gave me his bed, and I think he sleeps in with one of the others, as I've not seen any blankets or pillows in the living room. It’s a mixed blessing being surrounded by his heavenly vanilla scent all night.
It’s not enough to stop the darkness from taking over, and I've gone back to having my nightly night terrors, like I used to before coming here. I wake up with a raw throat, a wet pillow, and the taste of copper in my mouth.
Kai always leaves me some breakfast in the morning, and it reminds me of his plea from the morning after that awful night.
Please don't give up on us. Give us a chance.
It plays on repeat, swirling around and around my head until it's all I can think about.
Was I too harsh on them? What right do I have to judge them?
Yes, they hurt someone, they still hurt people, but none of it is their fault. They are being forced to do atrocious things by their families. They tried to resist the first time, and look at what happened. Kai got shot for Pete's sake!
The fog suddenly lifts, and it's as though a ray of glorious sunshine beams down on me.
I need to get them out of this!
Somehow, some way, I need to help them throw off the shackles that have been placed on them.
But how?
That's the million dollar question. How can they get out? And do they even want to? I think they do. That night, they all looked so desolate and ashamed when I walked in.
But first, I need to get them to talk to me, which almost feels harder than actually getting them away from their awful families and that toxic company.
As I head to my first class of the day; Works of Shakespeare, these tumultuous thoughts fill my mind, whilst War of Hearts, Acoustic Version , by Ruelle plays in my headphones.
I share the class with Ash, my heart fluttering at the thought of seeing him. Although the guys are in most of my classes, they've been leaving as soon as it's over, not walking with me like they used to.
Their silence, their icing me out, hurts; but I'm not sure I can blame them. I ran away when they opened up to me, when they showed me their darkness. I judged and rejected them when they needed me most, so it's no wonder they've turned away from me.
I have some serious apologising to do , I think as I open the door, taking my headphones out, and my eyes meet steel grey ones making me pause in the doorway. They are as hard as the metal they share the colour with, and just as cold.
Walking in, I let the door swing shut behind me, not taking my eyes away from his. My chest is rising and falling with my heavy breaths as I take my seat next to Ash, my hands slightly clammy.
I don't register anything around me, it's all noise that's unimportant as we continue to stare into each other's eyes.
I can see pain in the depths of his, a sharp ache that cuts me to the quick, knowing that I am responsible for some, if not most of it.
I hope he can see the regret in mine, the sorrow and heartache that fills me until I'm overflowing with it.
“Asher and Lilly, please read Act One, Scene Five for us.” I hear Mrs Jones say, breaking into our bubble.
I grab my copy of the play we're currently studying from my bag, Romeo and Juliet , and turn to the right page.
Ash begins reciting in his deep, beautiful voice, and it sends shivers up my spine, my breath leaving my lungs in a gasp.
“‘ If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss .’”
A nd as he reads, he reaches across and grabs my hand, bringing it to his lips, placing the barest of kisses upon my knuckles and causing a riot of butterflies to take flight inside me.
He looks up at me whilst he does it, a look so intense in his eyes, my heart stops, and I have to clear my throat before I can start my lines.
“‘ Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.’ ”
I lick my dry lips as I look back up to see his gaze locked on mine, my hand still in his warm one. He looks down then reads the next part.
“‘ Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?’ ”
H e looks to me again, his eyes unreadable, yet there's a fire there too. I’m just not sure if it's meant to hurt or heal me.
My heart is pounding, my breath short as I read my next lines.
“‘ Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.’ ”
“‘O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.’”
A darkness enters his gaze then, and I'm hit again with the hurt that I've caused him.
“‘Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake,’”
I read, barely above a whisper, looking back up at him as he starts to lean in, still clutching my hand in his tight grip.
“Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged,”
H e whispers back as his lips close on mine, and he kisses me.
It's a kiss that defies the ages, full of pain and longing and despair. But also hope, and something so sweet and pure, I dare not even think of its name.
I vaguely hear the class whistling and catcalling as Mrs Jones clears her throat loudly.
Ash breaks away, his breathing as heavy as my own, both our chests rising and falling in tandem. He stares into my eyes once more, his grey ones swirling like a storm.
Then, abruptly he lets go of my hand, stands up, his chair scraping across the floor, and strides out of the room.
“Mr Vanderbilt!” I hear Mrs Jones shout, but I'm just frozen with my hand to my burning lips.
I t's the end of the day, and I head to the library, putting off going back to the dorm, especially after what happened with Ash this morning. I want to make amends, to make things right between us. But I don’t know how, so I take the coward’s route and postpone the inevitable.
I study for hours, the library empty and the windows dark when I look up bleary-eyed, realising how late it is. I pack my things in my bag and go to head out when I see someone step from the shadows.
For a moment, my heart leaps thinking it's one of the guys, and then I realise it's not. It's that creep, Robert. Goosebumps erupt all over me like a warning, my instincts telling me to get out of there pronto.
“Hi, uh, Robert,” I say, starting to slowly back away, instinctively looking for an escape. The hair on my nape and arms lifts, my stomach rock hard. I have a terrible feeling about this. How long has he been waiting there? How did I not notice?
“Hi, Lilly,” he says back mildly, taking a step towards me, and it’s then that I realise with a sinking feeling he's blocking my easiest way out. “I'm glad I found you,” he adds, still advancing with a predatory grin. I could go round the table, and hopefully, make it before he cuts me off.
“Oh yeah?” I ask as I keep backing away, my heart beginning to pound. I'm clutching my bag in front of me like a shield. I may have to use it as a club if he keeps coming towards me.
“Yeah,” he answers, still smiling. It's a smile full of entitlement and malicious intent. “I thought seeing as how you, Loki, and Jax don’t appear to be an item anymore, we could go for that walk.”
My heart is beating wildly in my chest, like a bird trapped in a room and frantically trying to find a way out, even if it ends up bleeding, beating against a window. My brain is screaming at me to run and run fast.
“Ah, it's kinda late, so maybe another time,” I respond, proud of how firm my voice is even though I’m a quivering mess inside. I finally reach the end of the table and slowly ease around it, all the while keeping eye contact. My shoulders are tight, my body tense as I prepare to flee.
“I was thinking now,” he tells me, dropping the smile, his face reddening and his eyes hard as flint. My heart jumps painfully. “And didn't your whore mother ever teach you it's rude to walk away when someone is talking to you?” he asks viciously as he lunges for me.
I spin on my heel and run in the direction of the door, but I'm too fucking slow.
I feel him grab the back of my hair, pulling me back towards him, a scream of pain leaving my lips as he rips some strands clean out of my scalp.
I stumble and fall, landing on my spine hard, and knocking my head on the edge of a chair, making stars dance in my vision and my stomach roil.
When my eyesight clears, he's already kneeling on top of me, ripping open my shirtwaister dress, the buttons flying and scattering across the floor as he exposes my navy lacy bra.
My hands come up, clawing and trying to bat his own away from me, but he must have hit me hard because I feel so weak and he easily grabs both of my wrists, pinning them above my head in a bruising grip, grinding my bones together.
I make to scream, desperately hoping that someone will hear, when a clammy hand comes over my mouth hard, so that only a muffled sound can be heard.
No. No, no, no. Please, God, no.
“Shut the fuck up, you bitch, and spread your fucking legs!” he snarls, his lips curling and spittle flying.
Biting down hard I taste blood and hear him yelp and curse. His fist suddenly collides with my jaw in a brutal punch that snaps my head to the side and white hot pain bursts across my cheek.
I must blackout for a few seconds because when I come to, he's got my knickers off, and is lowering himself between my spread legs, lining up his repulsive veiny erect dick with my opening. His other hand on my inner thigh is holding me open for him like he has all the right to be there.