He reaches a hand toward me, and I take an involuntary step back, sinking into the nearby wall. My heart pounds in my chest. Why won’t he just leave me alone? I can’t— I shake my head. I just can’t. Not today. Not ever.
Fuck.
I avoid his probing gaze.
Austin scrutinizes me like I’m a butterfly pinned to the wall.
Maybe if I refuse to engage, he’ll get bored and move on. That’s it. I just have to keep it together long enough for him to get bored. Austin wants a reaction out of me.
I won’t give him one.
“Aw, don’t be like that,” he croons, planting one muscular arm on the wall beside my head. He leans in close enough for me to get another whiff of his cologne. To see the blond stubble lining his jaw.
I clench my teeth to keep them from chattering and stare at the stupid puka shell necklace around his neck.
Austin presses into me until my back is flush with the wall, caging me in place as students rush by, oblivious. Their voices fade into the background noise beneath the roaring of blood in my ears.
They see us. Of course they do. But with the way we’re positioned, Austin and I look like secret lovers. They don’t see him as the monster and me, his unwilling victim. But that’s exactly what we are. Austin Holt will never be anything but the monster in my nightmares, and I hate him for it. I hate him for breaking me. For stealing bits and pieces of who I am. For turning me into this … this shell of a person. He ruined everything.
I swallow down my scream.
He ruined me.
The urge to cry for help overwhelms me, but fear locks up my throat, leaving me mute and trembling.
Austin’s smile twists cruelly as he places a fingertip beneath my chin and forces my eyes up to meet the arctic chill of his pale blue gaze.
“Wha… wha… what do you want?” I stumble over the words.
Dammit. I’m stronger than this.
Don’t show him your fear. Don’t give him what he wants.
Austin’s fingers shift until he’s cupping my jaw, but the hold isn’t gentle. It’s possessive. Controlling. Bile rises in my throat.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he says. “Have you been thinking about me, too? About our night together?”
Tears well in my eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about that night a lot lately. Especially since you’ve needed near constant reminders about our little …” he pauses until my eyes flicker to his, fingers digging painfully into my skin, “arrangement.”
His breath ghosts over my cheek as he leans in to whisper near my ear, “I’d hate to resort to more extreme measures to keep this pretty little mouth shut, Cece. So tell me, are you behaving yourself? Or should we revisit our night together? You know, for old times’ sake.”
Tears blur my vision, but I blink them back, refusing to show any more weakness in front of this monster than I already have.
His finger trails from my chin down my throat in a perverse caress.
Revulsion and nausea roil inside me.
“I’m doing what you asked,” I choke out in a ragged whisper. “I’ve kept my mouth shut. I haven’t said a word since …” I trail off, unable to get the words out, but he knows what I mean. He knows I haven’t said a word about the assault since the morning after it happened. Not since I realized no one was going to believe me. Not the school. Not my friends.
And if they don’t believe me, why bother going to the police?
Austin knew before he ever laid a hand on me that he’d get away with it. But it took me losing everything to come to that same realization.
Statistics for rape victims are deplorable in the United States. Richland is no exception.
One in every six women in the U.S. has been a victim of sexual assault. I’m not special here. Just a member of a club I wish I’d never been a part of.
