AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nera,” he warns, but his voice sounds conflicted.
I both love and hate that I can go from miserable and anxious to excited and unbelievably turned on within minutes of being with him.
That’s too much power for one person to have over another’s operating system.
He won’t let himself be distracted.
“What did he say to you?”
I scramble to remember what we were talking about before we ventured far off track. When I do, the wave of anxiety hits me again at full force, like I’ve just kicked open the floodgates.
“He told me what he tells me every time I see him.” I say, vaguely.
He taps the pen against his fingertip.
“And that is?”
It’s not lost on me that he didn’t answer my question about his father, even though I know there’s something there.I don’t want to answer his question at all, and especially not when he won’t do the same in return.
I’ve never talked about my dad with anyone, and he’s not the first person I want to tell this to.
“None of your business.”
He nods and grabs my paper, handing it to me. “Have a good night.”
He stands and starts gathering his computer and documents, placing them in his backpack. My test remains clutched in my hands.
“Are you serious?”
He zips his bag and gives me an emotionless smile. “You’re welcome to challenge it with the review board if you’d like.”
He knows I can’t do that.
My teeth grit in irritation as I glare up at him.
“You’re going out of your way to manipulate me into telling you personal information that I don’t want to give you. You’re being a real vindictive asshole for someone who claims not to want me,” I snap. “If I tell you, will you change my grade?”
“That’s getting increasingly less likely with each passing second,” he drawls.
This close, I can smell the alcohol on his breath. I’m taken aback by it, classes having just ended. I don’t know if he’s drunk, I can't tell.
He seems fully in control of his functions and he’s certainly still fully capable of wielding his tongue with hurtful intent.
“I hate you,” I vow.
And I do for basically forcing me to admit this out loud.
“I doubt it.”
I shoot him a glare then bow my head, closing my eyes as if to gather strength.
“He told me ‘failure isn’t an option’. That’s nothing new really, he tells me that at least once a day,” I say through a clenched jaw, looking off to the right and refusing to meet his eye. “Only this time he added ‘if you will not willingly improve, then it will be exacted out of you, inch by inch’ and then he grabbed the back of my neck and crushed it so hard between his fingers that my airway closed and my vision went spotty.” I whip my head back to face him. “Happy?” I demand and I know it’s a shitty question.
He stares at me in a way he never has before.
I think if I was normal, I would cry. All I feel is a deep sense of loneliness and a hollow emptiness that I don’t think will ever be filled.
There’s a small piece of relief in finally having told someone, but I don’t enjoy the feeling whatsoever. There’s instant regret at having shown any kind of weakness.
