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Flynn’s rough fingers gently tug my dress down, just enough to cover the tops of my thighs as he sits me up on the desk, stepping between my legs. I can’t look at him.
Air stabs like daggers in my lungs as I heave for it, trying to catch my breath. Flynn’s big hands plant down over my thighs, fingers flexing against my skin, and his extremely pale complexion makes my own very light skin look tanned in comparison. Blue veins ridge over the backs of his hands, disappearing beneath the buttoned cuffs of his white shirt, something else that makes him look even more ghostlike.
Menacing.
My mind races back to this morning momentarily, the video finally made its way into the world, and it was so much worse than just seeing me naked. They, whoever they are that filmed it, recorded the entire thing. The sounds of Lynx fucking me, the loud, choked sounds from me as he did. Then the words, crystal clear in the audio of it. Lynx ripping my heart out. The look on his face as he stormed from the bathroom. The look on my own as I stood there in shock. I think it’s worse reliving it than I thought it would be.
Flynn’s thick fingers move from one of my legs, hook beneath my chin, sandalwood and vanilla heavy in my nose, his scent so thick I can almost taste it on my tongue. He lifts my chin, angling my head back, arching my neck, so unless I completely close my eyes, I have no choice but to look into his.
His black hair is shaved short on the sides, left long on top. Thick, inky curls springing gently up and down on his forehead when he cocks his head, the ends just brushing over his onyx eyebrows. Sapphire blue orbs, the outer rings so dark they’re almost black, are wide on mine.
Assessing.
Measuring.
Calculating.
I’m not sure what to say to my college counsellor now that he’s had his face between my thighs, his tongue buried in my cunt.
“You don’t belong,” he whispers, my body jolting at the words, “do you, Angel?” he says nonchalantly, as though the cutting words are meant to do no such thing. “You’ve never really belonged anywhere before,” he licks his pale pink lips, the tip of his tongue lapping over the bottom one to get another taste of me, my eyes dipping, watching. “Not even with your own family.”
It’s like a slap to the face. Sharp and stinging, and I suddenly don’t want to be here anymore, in what I thought was a safe space, with a safe person.
But then you let him have a taste, fucking whore.
Speaking low and slow, unfeeling, “You came here because your daddy doesn’t love you, can’t stand you, your mother-”
Chest heaving, my hand slaps hard across his face, shocking us both as his head snaps to the side, “Don’t speak about my fucking mother,” I spit, anger quivering through my veins.
I shove against his abs, fingers flexing back, he grips them tightly in one of his, locking his fingers around both of my wrists, shackling them together, he holds them down, pinning them to my thigh.
“You’re all alone in a big world full of dangerous people, and you don’t care,” Flynn says calmly, turning back to face me, not at all affected by my violence evidenced in the red handprint blooming bright on his cheek. “You just want to be normal. You want people tothinkyou’re normal.”
I blink up at him, my bottom lip trembling, but he keeps hold of my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“You get no love at home. Shipped from school to school, nanny to nanny, and you don’t fit in there either because you’re not like them. You’re not like anyone else and you hate it. You hate it so much that you stopped trying to fit in and turned to something that will guarantee you do, without any effort at all. You pop pills because, for just one moment, you fit, you’re just like everyone else,normal,you’re afraid of the world and all of the people in it, but the person you’re frightened of the most,” he licks his lips, pausing, those deep blue eyes flicking between my own before he whispers, “is you.”
My eyes close, tears streaking down my face. A sob wracks my chest, shaking my core, my belly jumping with the choked sound as it erupts in my throat. I want to drop my head, but Flynn doesn’t let me go. He doesn’t release my hands or my chin, instead, smoothing his thumb over my quivering bottom lip, stroking his fingers over my hands where he grips them tight. But he must feel it, when the fight leaves my body, amongst the desperate sobs, because he steps closer, releasing my hands, which I don’t move from my thigh, and wraps his arms around my shoulders, cradling me to his chest.
“It doesn’t have to be like that, Angel,” he whispers into my hair, his warm breath blowing strands of it around my face. “Youcan make your own family, you can be whoever you want, do whatever you want.”
I cry harder, knowing that’s not true at all, “I can’t,” I stutter out, shaking my head against his solid chest, heaving for breath, “I already ruined it all.”
“You could go, leave here, start fresh somewhere new,” he breathes against the crown of my head.
His lips pressing to my scalp in some semblance of a kiss, drawing me in with his touch as his words push me further and further away.
I think of Rex, of King, how they’re currently making my life hell, not quite as much as Lynx, usually just mean, petty shit, calling me names, sabotaging my classes, which has been harder than the other shit, but still, I can’t imagine not being near them. My head tells me to go, but my heart, as much as it hurts, tells me something else entirely.
I’m a masochist.
My gut churns, heart burning in my chest. It would be easier just to go. To run away again, but my dad holds the power, he has the paperwork from the judge that gives him rights to me even though I’m a legal adult.
The only way I could leave Briarmoor was with my dad having legal power of attorney over me, my finances, health. It’s basically a muzzle and collar. A shackle.
Men with power can get anything they want with the right connections and money to accompany it.
I’ll never truly be free.
