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"I'm dumber than I look. Enlighten me."
"It means," he quips, "that while your ass went to la-la land earlier, I texted my boys to make sure your space looks like you up and left in a hurry. Told ‘em to leave a note and everything."
He has to be lying. "You're lying"
"Just because you say it doesn't make it true." He laughs, his teeth appearing even whiter than normal in the low light. "They're going to scour the woods for miles looking for you, Firefly," he tells me. "It'll come to no one's surprise. What number is this rehabilitation program for you? You gotta be in the double digits by now, right? And your father was already talking about shipping you off to another one? Baby girl, that's got to hurt, and that's what your note will say too. I'm sure Kill will make it look good. He'll be meticulous about it, and by the time he and Saint fuck up your space, there will be no doubt you left in a hurry."
"My father will never believe I ran away," I lie, but won't he? After I tried to run from the last school too?
"You're mine until I fix you, so eat up. The faster you rehabilitate, the faster you can get out of here."
"Keep your fucking food and your fucking lies!" I snarl at him. "You will never fix me, fire freak."
Maybe it's my defiance or maybe it's my words, but I watch the moment when the last of his patience snaps. He leaps across the bed, and my head hits the bed rail as he flattens me beneath him, food going everywhere.
A clang sounds between my ears as my head starts to pound.
"You will learn your worth," he snarls above me, his body heavy and hot against me. "I don't care if I have to cage you in here for a thousand days until it gets through your thick skull."
I spit at him, and it lands hot and sticky on his face, but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he runs his tongue over his lips and says, "Tastes like oranges."
Then he flattens his lips to mine and sucks all the air out of me. He's massive, his tall frame crowding me and pinning me to the bed, as his tongue dives into my mouth.
He tastes like salt-and-vinegar chips but smells like campfires and charcoal. His fingers skim my sides, and my heart beats fast, knocking against my ribs. I want him to stop, but I don't want to let him go. I kiss him back. Despite it all, I kiss him back, falling victim to the con of feeling wanted.
I kiss him until I can't breathe, until everything in me burns for his touch, and wetness smears between my thighs. I arch beneath him, pressing against his cock, and start to rub. The friction is glorious between us, and the ache is impossible to ignore. It feels like I'm going to explode.
"No," he tells me with a groan, rolling onto his side. "You only get that when you take care of yourself. I'm not giving my cum to a dead girl."
He stands, and I watch him. I should move. I should do something, but I am frozen as he undoes his belt buckle and then his pants, dragging the zipper down slowly. He pulls down his black boxer briefs and frees his cock a moment later, and it's beautiful. Big, large, and intimidating, just like him. All of me aches to touch it, but I'm afraid if I do, he might put it away.
He strokes himself root to tip, watching me, before spitting into his hand. Then he moves his hand back up to the thick mushroom head of his dick and back down again, his eyes hooded as he watches me.
"Lift your shirt," he commands, the words guttural.
I do as I am told, and a moment later, he comes, exploding onto my chest with a roar.
His eyes shutter, but when they open and find my flesh marked with ropes of his cum, he says, "That's all you get, baby girl, until you treat yourself the way you deserve."
He puts himself away, zips up his pants, redoes his belt, and walks to the cell door. He unlocks it in a flash and then locks it back just as quickly.
"Where are you going?!" I call after him. "You can't just leave me here!"
He looks back at me, illuminated by a halo of light falling from the bulb above his head.
"You can't leave me here," I tell him, shivering with my words. "If you feel something for me, youwon'tleave me here."
He cocks an eyebrow at me, his expression deadly. "Who said I felt anything at all?"
"Liar!" I hiss. "You feel something for me."
He ignores the jab, and I leap off of the bed, pulling my shirt back into place, and grab the bars of the cell, panicking.
"When will you be back?" I call after him.
"I have to attend class, but I'll be back this afternoon. In the meantime, eat and look in the mirror. Learn who you truly are."
With that, he leaves me, even as I yell and scream at him, begging him not to go. He disappears up the stairs, and I hate this place. It's creepy, but I'm lucky the bed's in the corner where I can tuck myself away, and he left the light on, though it feels like the walls are looking at me.
