AllFreeNovel
Share Us
XXXVII.
I
Tori
The handle moves up and down in my hand, but without a key to unlock it, the door to my room won’t open.
Adrenaline, shock, anger, confusion, pain, fear…
I’m moving on autopilot, as though my mind and my body have disconnected, and I’m not the one in control of any of the movements. So many thoughts and feelings are swirling in my head that I’m somehow unable to register that no matter how hard or how many times I move the handle up and down, the door won’t magically open.
Get into your room.
Before I can do that, the door next to mine opens, and Penny sticks her head out. “I thought it was—Tori, what the fuck happened?”
As she steps out of her room, something in my brain fires into action. I jerk my hand away, wrapping my arms tightly around me. Ignoring every painful protest my body makes, I straighten my back, suck in a deep breath to try and slow my hurried breathing while giving Penny a smile.
“What are you still doing up? Go to bed, I’m—”
“What are you wearing?” In less than a second, she’s standing in front of me, her eyes, darting all over as she scans my appearance. “What happened? Is that a collar? Did they hurt you? Did they rape you? Do I need to call the police?”
“What?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go. I’m calling the cops right—”
Her words break through the trance I hadn’t realized I was in. Before she can turn—probably to go get her phone—I reach out and grab her arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the little red light of the security camera installed directly opposite my dorm room. “Nothing happened that you need to worry about.”
Very obviously, Penny looks me up and down before she returns her gaze to my face. “Nothing happened?” she asks, her tone flat.
“Nothing happened that you need to worry about.” We’ve not been shouting, but neither of us have made any effort to speak quietly. Letting go of her arm, I glance up and down the corridor, checking if any other door has opened. So far, they’re all closed.
The last thing I’m worried about is being seen. My concern is the conversation.
“I lost my key. Can I stay with you tonight?” I ask, lowering my volume.
“I think you lost…” Penny closes her eyes. Her hands clench into fists, then she releases them as she opens her eyes again. I can only see warmth in her expression as she nods. “Of course.”
Following her into her dorm room, the explosion of pink has a surprisingly instant soothing effect on me. The covers of her queen-sized bed are rumpled as though she’s been lying on them rather than under them, and her iPad, although with a black screen, is propped up.
Was she waiting up for me?
Penny steps in front of me, chewing on her lower lip. In her hands is some neatly folded pink fabric that she picked up from somewhere as I’ve been staring at her bed.
“Regardless of how you’re feeling right now, I really don’t think you should shower,” she says, gently. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll pay for your lawyer myself, but if we’re going to get a conviction, we really need evidence. Put these on, and I’ll call a car to take us to a hospital.”
A lump rises in my throat, and I can feel tears threatening to spill. It takes everything in me not to let that happen, because I’m sure Penny will only interpret them as some form of agreement that something happened, rather than because of how moved I am at her friendship.
“Everything was consensual,” I tell her. “I knew what was going to happen before I went there, and they gave me every opportunity to back out.”
Somehow, that made it sound like everything was normal. The last thing I wanted to do was lie to Penny, but right now, any detail would just lead to more assumptions or questions I can’t answer.
Can’t, because I signed an NDA.
Won’t, because now I had a much better idea of what I’d walked into, and the last thing I’m going to do is anything that could put Penny at risk.
Especially not after tonight.
Nearly a week ago, Syn had given me an envelope with two sets of documents inside: a non-disclosure agreement, which basically threatened to bankrupt the next ten generations of every member of my extended family, and a contract that was both detailed enough to know my life was about to belong to the Elite, yet vague enough to not give me more than a dozen superficial requirements.
