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Make her think this is over, finished, never able to see or find me again.
But this is just getting started.
I’m not done with her yet. Never.
3
Sapphire
One day later
“Something more important than what’s on the overhead, Sapphire?” my instructor calls out.
“No, ma’am.” I quickly move my pen across my notebook and back multiple times, crossing out the doodle I’ve been working on for all of the class. Straightening my back I stare ahead, not wanting to get caught daydreaming, although that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.
The professor turns her back, returning to her lecture and I look down at the sketch I just destroyed. The one with the oversized muscles, the tattoos, the beard, the fierce look. My eyes wander the room at the multitude of college-aged boys who can’t even come close. It’s not even like the man I hired to beat up one of these guys is a ten and these guys that surround me are sixes or sevens. They can’t even compete.
Looking at them now, in this new light, shows me just how weak and pathetic they are. It almost makes me think I can beat up my ex myself.
Something about surviving yesterday has given me more self-confidence. I should feel ashamed, but I actually feel liberated and empowered…my mind becoming more curious and inquisitive than it ever has been in a classroom setting. Maybe that’s because I’m not learning about numbers or theories or dead guys who were important centuries ago. I’m learning about myself, from the unlikeliest of teachers.
The big hand on the clock sweeps over to the top of the hour and the professor announces, “That’s all for today. Don’t forget the reading assignment for next week’s class.”
I can’t get my books packed and stuffed into my backpack quick enough, moving out of the classroom, into the hallway, and out the front door. How I’m going to be able to concentrate on some bland text long enough to comprehend anything in the next week is beyond me. Not a chance. I just have to pray she doesn’t call on me in seven days’ time.
Moving out onto the sidewalk I prepare for the trek across campus to my dorm room. Normally this walk doesn’t bother me, but at this particular moment, I’m reconsidering why I signed up for the seven to ten p.m. class instead of the morning offering.
Picking up the pace, but not wanting to telegraph my nervousness, I do my best to convince myself I can make the walk in maybe eight minutes instead of ten. What’s eight minutes? Heck, you can do an entire ab-crushing workout in that time…something I’ve been neglecting as noticed by my lack of endurance.
Cutting through the campus I take walking trails until I reach the final couple of streets that are the most direct route. And that’s when I hear it…the unmistakable sound of tires moving slowly across the pavement behind me. Too slow to pass me, but quick enough to keep up. A lot of the roads on campus have speed limits of thirty-five miles per hour, but this particular one is only fifteen, so a slow-moving vehicle doesn’t set off any red flags.
Looking around I don’t see any of those call boxes that go directly to the campus cops. It’s just me and the car behind me, but the ironic part is I don’t think it’s the man who’s actually more terrifying than the boy in my life.
The car pulls up even with me and I try to keep a steady pace. But when the passenger-side window rolls down I slow considerably, only to speed up. The foot of the driver is too good, pacing me perfectly, and when I look through the open area, across to the driver’s seat I know immediately who it is, my suspicions confirmed despite the sophomoric and ill-planned attempt at a disguise in the form of sunglasses, worn at night.
“Why don’t you get in so we can have a little talk?”
“Leave me alone, Jeffrey. I swear…” I bite my lip so hard that I taste the acidic blood that flows almost instantly. For the first time in my encounters with this douche, I’m angrier at him than I am scared, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nearly terrified.
My mind races back to yesterday. If I hadn’t stupidly worn that wire I wouldn’t be experiencing this never-ending nightmare right now. But I also wouldn’t have experienced that other thing too. The one that kept me up all last night and had my mind wandering all day in my classes. It’s a double-edged sword that cuts both ways. But strangely, the pain can be done well…when administered correctly, by a man who knows what he’s doing.
“Listen bitch,” he says. “Get in or there’s going to be a problem.”
“Oh yeah. You’re full of shit,” I spit out, spit literally following the end of my challenge.
“Okay, you dumb whore. You had your chance.”
The car engine revs and he pulls past me a good fifteen feet, slams the car into park and the driver’s side door comes flying open as he steps outside into the night.
“You’re gonna give me that pussy that I deserve now, whether you like it or not.”
I pause, dropping a shoulder as I unzip my Jansport backpack and pull out the thickest book in there, a math book in a strange twist of fate considering how much I wish I didn’t have that class.
Speaking of class, my ex exhibits none as he spits on the curb, steps up onto it, and grabs his crotch, adjusting it as he marches toward me.
He’s clearly bigger and stronger than me and he thinks this is in the bag. Oh, how wrong he is. Yesterday I learned how much I can tolerate, and how leaning into the pain can actually provide pleasure. And even though I’m probably stupid for not turning and running, I almost welcome his attempt to do what he thinks he needs to do.
Because I feel sure I can stop it, stop him, and maybe finally bring some closure to this situation.
