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The second that thought flashes through my mind, I hear a short scream, followed by athump, and athud-thud-thud. A body comes sliding down on its back, crumpling into a ball as soon as it hits the cement floor.
Burns takes the stairs lightly, shaking his head. “Can’t say I didn’t fucking warn him. Eh, angel?”
I… I don’t know what to say. A hint of humor laces his tone as he comes down, stepping over the groaning mass of male on the floor. I’m glad Burns thinks this is funny.
Me? I’m about to pass out.
Muttering curses under his breath, the man flops from his side to his back. I can see the blond hair matted down with something that turns it unusually dark. The formerly handsome face looks like it’s been bashed in. He’s covered in injuries too extensive for a shove and fall down the stairs.
Even so, beneath the blood and bruises, I recognize Carter Santorino instantly. How could I not? He’s starred in every single one of my nightmares since he assaulted me.
* * *
Carter Santorino wasthe most popular guy when I was an undergrad at Fairview University. Gorgeous and rich, he went through girlfriends like a revolving door. My three years in school, I knew who he was. I knew his reputation. I wished he’d notice me…
…and then he did.
It was at a frat party. Sometimes I think I was a pity invite, the quiet botany student who could only afford to be at FU because I had a scholarship and some loans. Being pretty could open a few doors for me, but those belonging to Psi Omicron’s fraternity house weren’t one of them until the fateful night one of my female classmates told me I should go.
I did. I had fun, too, until I got corned by Carter Santorino on my way out of the bathroom.
When I first tried to tell anyone else that the infamous Carter assaulted me, there were plenty of witnesses at the party that told me I was begging for it. Asking for it. That I caught his eye early on, regardless of who I was, and the way I paid attention to him as he flirted with me was my signal to him that I was just waiting for him to make his move.
And did he.
In my nightmares, I relive his attack. How he wrapped one hand around my waist, tethering me to him, then shoved his other hand beneath the sweater I was wearing, groping my boob in the empty hallway. When I didn’t do anything but stand there, shocked that he had the nerve to just grab me like that, he tightened his hold, manhandling me until I was locked in an empty bedroom with him.
I remember his hands pawing my jeans, breath smelling of beer and cigarettes as he panted in excitement. I kept telling him no, no, I didn’t want this, and the fucker forced his tongue in my mouth, then bit my bottom lip before laughing and saying, “Don’t give a shit what you want. I’m gonna fuck someone and your pussy is as good as any.”
The laugh. The memory of the laugh that followed sends shivers skittering down my spine even now, five years later. He thought it was funny. He thought it was so fucking amusing, that my worth boiled down to what I had between my legs. All the flirting at the party… it meant nothing. I was just the easy mark he picked up earlier during the party, then waited until he could waylay me on my way out of the bathroom. In the bedroom, it was all about him getting off.
I managed to escape him before it went too far. Luck was on my side that night. He was too drunk to get it up, though he used his grip to knock me to my knees, then shoved his limp cock between my lips. He figured a blow job would get him hard enough to fuck me, and when my terrified licks did nothing for him, he backhanded me.
Even the bruise on my cheek wasn’t enough to prove to the cops that he assaulted me. It took every bit of courage I had back then to go to them, and the Fairview police couldn’t give a shit.
The name Santorino meant something in the college town.
Havers didn’t.
He got off scot-free, a fact he reinforced when he tracked me down two days after my failed police report. Dragging me into a darkened corner of the dorms, he warned me to drop it or he’d finish what he started in that bedroom.
I believed him, too. And I changed my whole life plan to get away from him.
I never thought I would see Carter again. I made it my point. Dropping out of school, running out of Fairview when it became obvious that no one—not my friends, not my fellow students, the dean, the cops… even my own mother—believed me when I said that he forced himself on me.
And that’s not entirely true. One girl did. Molly Jacobs, a sweet blonde who was in my Latin class. She believed me because Carter did the same thing to her the semester before.
Only he convinced her that shedidwant it, and only after she slept with him did she realize just how much he forced her. Even when she was telling me in a hushed and frantic whisper about what happened to her, I could tell she still thought she deserved it. That Carter convinced her she was lucky he gave her a ride.
My one big regret in life was that he was free to go after another victim once I made life easy for him and ran away. From Fairview to Bellport, to Plainsborough to Springfield, I’ve spent five years trying to escape the specter of Carter Santorini.
And I still haven’t been able to.
“What… what is he doing here?”
I focus on Burns, then do a double-take. It’s him. I’d know that devilish grin anywhere.
I just… I’ve never seen him in anything but his uniform before.
