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Staring at the wide monitor in my room, my eyes scroll over the information I was able to pull up on Jess, wondering why I even bother. I shouldn’t care. But I do. The look in her eyes when I’m with her––inside her--is haunting. It calls to me on a deeper level, like she is there in the moment, but for an entirely different reason other than to have sex. Other girls want to sleep with the sons of Kenyan for popularity and to get ahead. For social status. But with Jess, she is doing it for something else. A reason I want to find the answer to.
When I saw her get out of that piece of shit’s car and proceeded to pass out in my arms, it broke me. It called to something inside me I’ve had buried for a couple years now. She brought it out and I want to embrace it. It is one of the reasons I moved in with Dravin and left my parents’ house. The constant bickering between my mother and father over my behavior was too much and I couldn’t take it without snapping.
The constant questions.
Where was I?
Who was I fucking?
Every conversation centered around my need to marry because of the Order and the importance of making alliances with the right families in order to gain more power and more control. Every time they would look down the long dining room table and see the look in my eyes and the expression on my face as silence stretched throughout the room, I would see it. The reason. The fear. I knew in those few encounters, I could no longer sit there and watch them.
They are probably afraid of what I might do or what I’m capable of, but the thing is, I don’t remember the things they said I did. They said I killed a certain way or slaughtered the ones responsible for my sister’s death, but to me, they’re merely lapses in memory that started right after my sister died when I was twelve.
Deep down, I blame my parents. I blame the Order. The fucked-up rules made in archaic times that are followed by leaders with their own agendas and the reason my older sister died. At the young age of twelve, I understood what men in power do to women that threaten their control. They destroy them by bringing them down mentally, emotionally, and physically.
I study the screen; there are several windows open on the ultra-wide display, detailing Jesse Sharpe's background. Cedar Lake, Ohio, is listed as her place of birth and residence. I use the track pad to zoom in as I put her address into the map's search bar, and a red pin appears above a trailer park.
Lot 606 at the Cedar Lake mobile home trailer park. She did say she didn’t have much growing up. Clearly, she wasn’t kidding. The trailer park is a shithole. The type of cesspool meth heads and druggies come from, but I don’t get that vibe from Jess or Jesse, as her birth certificate reads as her full first name. I have never witnessed her on anything, except alcohol at the bar. Draven had me keep an eye on her during the party, while he dealt with Gia, and I noticed she didn’t touch anything that was offered to eat or drink. Smart girl. You never know what kind of creeps are lurking at a college party.
As I expand the window, I can make out the dilapidated trailer, the overgrown grass mixed with filth, and the yellow stains trickling down from each window like a dog has been pissing out of them.
I need to know more about her, so I keep reading. She was top of her class her senior year at Cedar Lake High on the outskirts of Ohio. She has no social media accounts, which means she wasn’t popular or was trying to hide where she was. She would definitely be memorable with a face and body like hers. She’s curvy in all the right places with a straight nose, honey-colored eyes and a sun-kissed complexion. I shift in my chair, my cock remembering all too vividly the way she felt the first time. She took everything I had to give her, and I loved watching how her eyes would turn the color of fire when she came. Mesmerizing.
If she only knew she was the first woman I could watch for hours on end and yet find something new and interesting in her every time. But what draws me in is the darkness that lives inside her, consuming her from within. Her lack of emotion when she gets what she needs every time she fucks is like she is feeding a demon. Everyone sees her as Prey. An unprivileged female given the opportunity of a lifetime by fucking around at an elite university with the rich and powerful. But I don’t. What do you do when you are trying to feed one monster? You get in a pool of monsters, hoping they will turn on each other, so you can escape.
The mystery is what or who she’s trying to get away from.
The town sounds familiar. Cedar Lake was discussed in an Order meeting, but I cannot remember who brought it up or why. It's a pain, but I have to attend these meetings, or I won't know what's happening. Then we have the Consortium, which is like the internal affairs department of the Order, run by selected members only. The sons of Kenyan are at the head, but we recruit and set our own rules.
It was necessary and what we agreed to do after the deaths of my sister and Dravin's mother. We still meet in the same fashion in the church, but the high-ranking members of the Order have no idea when these gatherings are held or who we could decide to execute if they disobey our rules. It's what separates us from them. That's why the other members, and even our parents, cower in dread of us and the power we wield.
I continue to scroll through the page with all her information and notice there isn’t much on her. She has a mother but no father in the picture. No surprise there. No siblings. No family. Something doesn’t add up. I can’t ask Gia about her because I’m positive I’m not a fan favorite.
I sigh, closing all the windows on the screen, and let out a puff of air from my mouth. Fuck. I place my thumb and close my eyes, relieving the sting from staring at the screen for so long.
Knock. Knock.
“What?”
“It’s me, Dravin.”
The door makes a small sound when it opens. I rotate my seat so that I’m facing my bedroom door, pushing to recline the chair. As I relax in it, the screensaver starts up on my computer and I watch Dravin cross his arms over his chest, leaning on the door jam.
“What are you up to? You have been up here for the past three hours.” I look at his hand not saying a word. My eyes narrow because he is gripping something.
“Is there something you want to give me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He uncrosses his arms and tosses a pill bottle at me. I catch it due to my quick reflexes and hold it up. “Your delivery came.”
I look at the prescription bottle with my name on it and a low chuckle climbs up my throat. “Are you worried, Dravin?”
My eyes flick up to meet his, and he scoffs. “I’m not, but everyone else is another matter entirely.”
I toss the bottle in the trash bin near my desk, not giving a fuck. I hate taking them because they mess with my concentration. I prefer Adderall because I can get shit done instead of the crap they want me to take. After my sister died, my parents started to take me to psychotherapy. It didn’t help because I took care of it my way. They thought they were right to take me, but there is no line between revenge and crazy. It goes hand in hand. I don’t want my parents to freak out, even though Dravin is cool about the whole me not needing psychotherapy after my sister died, but the thing is, I haven’t gone in a month. I don’t want to talk about it to some asshole with a degree who thinks that getting inside my head will solve all my problems. Where were the doctors when they killed her? I’ve accepted that she’s dead and nothing is going to bring her back.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Are you my therapist?” I counter.
