Page 21

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

REMI

My head is pounding.

It’s the first thing I notice, but the second thing, the second thing is so much worse.

When I blink my eyes open, my brows furrowed and tongue dry in my mouth, I realize I’m looking at a sliver of light beaming through a dark curtain. That doesn’t belong to me.

I clamp my teeth together, unwilling to make a sound. Wherever I am, whoever I’m with, I shouldn’t be here.

My eyes drop down to the unfamiliar sheets, my own hand spread over the top one. I flex my fingers, watch them move, but I still keep expecting this to be a dream.

I feel heavy.

Heavy, and hot, the sheets sticking to my thighs.

And when I go to turn, so slowly, still holding my breath, I realize someone’s arms are draped around me.

Someone is breathing softly behind me.

There’s sweat on my back, damp and connecting me to whoever it is. Like something is joining us together.

A sick feeling rolls through my stomach.

I think I’m going to throw up, and in a moment of panic, I remember my stepdad, waiting for me the morning after everything.

I retch, dry heaving, my chest expanding, deflating, and when I feel the warm bile rising up the back of my throat, I scramble out of bed, out from underneath his arms.

His arms.

The air of the cold room fans over my chest and I realize I’m only in my underwear. I stumble back on the wooden floors, staring at Cortland as he rubs his fists over his eyes, yawning before he drops his hands.

Sits up slowly.

And as I cover my chest with my arms, his wary gaze meets mine, his lip ring sucked between his teeth as he stares at me.

Instead of vomiting all over his floor, I can’t seem to move.

I can barely speak. I just get one word out. “You.”

His response is instantaneous, like I screamed. He moves just like a skilled athlete.

He’s off the bed in a second, backing me against the wall beside a door, his hand planted above my head.

“Don’t panic,” he says, glancing at his bedroom door.

I shake my head, wanting to push him away but then I’d have to drop my arms from my bare chest, and I can’t do that.

What did we do?

The room seems to spin as I think about last night. Try to collect my memories.

I went with Sloane and Van to a frat house.

We had drinks. Got separated. I think Van was leaving because Ryann didn’t show; I never ended up meeting her.

I had more drinks. Outside, by a pool.

Everything hit me fast.

The night was spinning, and my face was numb, and I felt heavy. I was going to go home.

I stumbled toward the pool.

Someone’s hands were on me.

Then nothing.

Like the tape stops playing in my head.

I feel that sticky, tacky sensation against my back, and I suddenly freeze, Cortland still there, not touching me. I drop my gaze, see his black boxer briefs. The outline of his erection, as big as I remember it. And he’s in a white shirt.

My skin crawls, but I try to reason with myself. Maybe it’s not that.

But I know what cum on my back feels like.

They didn’t all come inside of me.

In fact, only Cortland did that, and I had to recall all of it to the police, in every painful detail.

The feeling of Chase’s cum on my back.

How Cortland wiped it away with a washcloth, when they were all through. He was so quiet, so gentle when I was in his bathroom.

My heart races as I drag my gaze up, forcing myself to meet his.

His eyes look nearly black, even with the light streaming in.

His room is big, spacious, neat and tidy, and I wonder if I’m even at EU anymore. How did we get here?

I can’t remember anything. Panic seizes through me and Cortland watches me, like he’s waiting for something.

“What happened?” I gasp out, the icky taste of alcohol on my tongue. The wall is cold against my back and that feeling of something stuck to me… No.

He arches a thick, dark brow, then his eyes drop to my neck.

Something in his expression shifts. His full lips pull into a soft smile, and I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as he drags his gaze back to meet mine. I’m being photographed again in the hospital, the bruises on my breasts, around my throat, my thighs. My arms.

It’s like all the air in the room is gone and I’m choking on memories.

Did he leave a mark?

“What do you remember, Rems?” he asks, bringing me back to this nightmare. His words are whispered, and there’s no regret in his tone. Nothing apologetic.

He’s like he was when I ran into him before classes started. When I realized my worst nightmare was back.

Anger builds in my veins, and I squeeze my arms tighter around my chest. It feels so hard to breathe.

“Where are my clothes?” I ask through gritted teeth, sweeping my gaze over the floor of his room. I see my hoodie then, on one side of the bed.

But my jeans are on the other.

My stomach flips as I look back up at him. He looks amused.

“What did you do?” I whisper, knocking my head back against the wall. I press my thighs together, and unlike the last time Cortland had his way with me, nothing really hurts , but I don’t know if that means anything. I don’t know if every time is supposed to be so painful.

He glances between us. At my thighs.

All my muscles seem to vibrate with nerves. “Cortland.” I hate that it sounds like a plea.

He steps closer, his body nearly touching mine as I press back further into the wall. “Do you want to call the cops again, Rems?” he asks me softly, still smiling, a dimple flashing in his hollow cheeks. “Or maybe you wanna call your daddy?”

Real fear is like ice in my veins as I think about my stepdad. But underneath that sensation, I hate that I feel the smallest amount of relief that this is with Cortland, and not someone else.

“Did we…” I close my eyes. I can’t ask him while I look at him. “Did we have sex again?”

He’s quiet a moment before he speaks. “Are you saying the first time, that’s what we did? Have sex? ” His tone is venomous. Angry.

I swallow down the lump in my throat, keep my eyes closed tight. “No. I mean… yes. But I didn’t… I didn’t want it.” Those words are hard to get out and my face feels like it’s on fire.

He exhales, loudly. “Would’ve been nice if you had said so that night. And you know what? It’s a fucking shame. It was good for me.”

Psycho. “What did we do last night?” I try to ignore his last words. Try to ignore thoughts from that night worming their way into my brain.

“Open your eyes, pretty baby.”

I don’t want to, and my skin crawls when he calls me that, but I open my eyes, looking into his dark ones.

He jerks his chin, toward the bed.

I furrow my brow, confused as I glance at his sheets, only half on the bed from where I leapt off the mattress. He slowly reaches out for me and I don’t flinch as he grips my chin, then turns my head to face him, his thumb running along my bottom lip.

“You don’t remember?” he asks me. There’s something raw in his words, the way he’s looking at me.

I shake my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

His brows pull together, but then his expressions clears. “I fingered you,” he finally tells me, and my insides knot up. He pulls my bottom lip down with his thumb. “You seemed to really like that, Remi.” He drops his head to mine.

I hold my breath, my arms growing slick against my chest. I can’t move my hands though, not without uncovering myself, and we both know it.

“You also told me you hadn’t fucked anyone else since me.”

I feel warmth on my chest.

“Is that true?”

That flush spreads down to my neck.

He laughs, his eyes scanning my face. “Don’t be so embarrassed.” He angles his head, his lips inches from mine, thumb still on my mouth. “I like that I’m the only one.”

White hot anger floods my veins. I want to slap him. But I just stand taller and he rears back a little. It’s easier to breathe with his lips further from mine.

“You weren’t, though, remember?” I speak through gritted teeth. “You weren’t the only one. Storm. Brinklin. Chase. ” Their names make me feel faint, especially Chase’s. He was the cruelest.

I can almost hear it in my head, their hips against mine. I can see my tangled laces. Feel Cortland’s hands cupping my face as he let his friends have their way with me and I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

“It was never just you.”

His eyes narrow.

“And I don’t remember anything from last night, Cortland, and you know what that means?”

He cocks a brow, waiting, but he drops his hand from my mouth.

“That means I wasn’t able to consent.” Even as I say the words, I know I’m bluffing. I’d never do this again. I’d never drag this out again. Never give Silas another reason to hate me so much. I’d rather slit my wrists than go through that humiliation.

With that thought, I think about the cuts on my arm. Did he see them again?

But before I can finish talking, before I can think that through, Cortland shakes his head.

“No, Remi, that’s just not true.” He steps back, raking a hand through his hair.

I see his bicep flex before he drops his hand.

He glances back at the bed again and I have a sinking feeling in my stomach when his eyes land on mine, a smile pulling on his lips.

“You see, I thought you might do something like this.” He shrugs, his T-shirt pulling tight against his muscular chest, the tendons in his neck flexing.

“I made sure I recorded it all last night. And I’ll have to check the video, but I’m pretty sure there were quite a few times when you said…

” He steps close again, placing his hand on my ribs, hot and heavy against my skin.

The gesture is soft, but I know he doesn’t mean it that way especially as his warm, calloused palm travels down toward my hip.

He leans in close, his lips over mine, the metal of his piercing hitting my mouth. “ Don’t stop, Cortland.”

He stares at me a moment, then he reaches for my hand, moving so fast I don’t have time to fight him back as he yanks my arm away from my body. I cry out, trying to cover myself with my other arm but I can’t. He flips my palm as he pushes his index finger against one of my cuts.

I tense and stop struggling, staring at his tan fingers against my pale skin.

He laughs. “You playing with knives, Remi?” He brings my wrist to his mouth and licks a line over the newer wounds.

It stings and bile burns up the back of my throat.

He presses a kiss to my wrist, then drops my hand. “Stop, or I’ll make you pay for it,” he says softly, then turns around. And walks out.