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“It’s wrong, he wants me to sleep with him. I—”
“What’s the issue then? If he wants you, then use that to your advantage. Sleep with him, wrap him around your finger. Do whatever it takes to get into his good graces.”
What?
I hold the phone away for a moment, looking at the screen, hoping the phone might be broken or something. That would make more sense than him saying what he just said.
“You’re kidding, right?” I bring the phone back to my ear. “You don’t actually expect me to sleep with him… I mean, you can’t really, right?” I feel like I’m in some horror movie that keeps playing on repeat, every time the killer kills me, I come back, reliving the same events over and over again.
“God, you are so dramatic. Don’t act like you are some kind of saint who’s saving herself for marriage. Spread your legs if you have to. You’re a woman, that’s what’s going to get you places. It’s how the world works, Willow, so don’t blame me. I didn’t make the rules. Just remember, sex is only what you make of it.”
“No… I won’t… that’s… do you even hear yourself right now?” My stomach twists so violently I have to hold onto the side of the table.
Frustration burns through the phone line. “Look, Willow. I don’t care if you sleep with him or not as long as you get into his circle of friends. Just make it easy on yourself and get it done soon. Your sister has cost me enough time and trouble, don’t make the same mistakes she did. Just do what you’re told.”
Just be my puppet… that’s all I hear.
“I’m not staying here. You can’t expect me to, not with how insane he is. You don’t understand. He’s going to hurt me, he’s already tried—”
My father chuckles into the phone, “Parker is a college kid, a fly, what’s he going to do?” The better question would be, what isn’t he going to do?
“You’re perfectly safe there, and you’ll remain there, that is unless you want your sister to be homeless?” The threat hangs in the air between us.
“So, we’re back to threats, great, you’re no better than Parker.” I grip the phone hard enough to break it. I’m so tired of this. I dealt with it all last year, and this year I thought it would be better, different. But it’s not, it’s all just the same. Same shit, different day.
“Goodbye, Willow,” he hangs up the phone without another word. He just hangs up! I’m not even sure what to say at this point.
Even more shocked than before this phone call, I stand in the center of the empty science lab. Tears prick at my eyes, and before I know it, they’re falling, leaving streaks down my cheeks. I guess the only good thing about today is that I didn’t cry in front of Parker and his friends.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg and plead, to tell him to stop, but I didn’t. I knew better. It wouldn’t have helped me any. What he did today, it was a warning, it could’ve been much worse, and it will be if I don’t stay out of his way.
Peering down at my black phone screen, I know what I have to do.
A few days have passed since our run-in, and I’m about to head to English literature, one out of two classes I’ve been dreading going back to. I’ve managed to avoid Parker, at all costs, mainly by hiding out in my room, but I know I can’t hide today, much less forever.
I’ve spent the last few nights thinking about what Alice and I had talked about, and as much as I hate to say it, I think apologizing is my best shot at being forgotten right now.
Maybe it will make things better. Perhaps if I explain that my father won’t let me leave, that I overstepped, which I didn’t, he’ll understand. Yeah, right. That’s wishful thinking.
It won’t matter to Parker. He won’t care, just like his brother didn’t care that night. Shaking my head, I try not to think about my sister or even my father. No one can save me, protect me. There is just me.
Arriving early to class, I walk to the back of the room and take the same seat as last time. Parker isn’t here yet, and thankfully so. I suck in a tiny breath of relief, thinking over what exactly I’m going to say to him. I’ve barely got my books out of my bag when Parker comes strolling down the aisle.
Half of the chairs are still empty, but of course, he chooses to take the one right next to me. Because why not choose one of the twenty other empty seats?
“Did you keep a seat for me?” he asks, a smug look on his arrogant, beautiful face. I want to come back with a snarky remark. Something like: you can shove that seat up your ass, but I swallow the insult down instead.
