When I feel the familiar tingle at the base of my spine, I know I'm about to come. I pull her off my dick and she sits back on her thighs. I wrap my hand around my cock and come on her face. I come until I'm spent, and cum coats her cheeks, her chin, her lips. She looks up at me through mascara-stained cheeks, eyes full of tears from having my cock down her throat.
"I hope you remember what this feels like, Valentina. Because from this moment on, the only person who will ever fucking touch you is me. No one will come within ten feet of you. You’ve been ruined by me. Welcome to hell, little lamb.”
If I thought Rhys was done with me after the night at the Abbey, I was grossly mistaken. This week has been nothing short of hell. While he hasn't cornered me or forced me into something vile, he has been everywhere I've turned. Small, insignificant things to some, but it’s chipped away at my resolve each time.
When I was working in the admin office, filing paperwork, he locked me in the filing room for over an hour, until finally someone heard me beating on the door until my fists were sore and bruised, and let me out. I was so angry I accidentally cursed in front of Sister Agnes and then she made me polish the pews in the chapel all evening afterward. If that wasn't enough, the next morning while walking to class, Mara tripped me in front of everyone, causing all of my books to go flying. I was at the end of my rope.
Thankfully, Rory came over with copious amounts of junk food and we watched Thirteen until we passed out in a food coma.
By Wednesday, I'd had enough of his shit, and it was only just beginning. The assignment I turned in for English literature for our thesis, which of course he didn't even attempt to participate in, got a C. The first C I've ever had in my entire life, and I spent the entire evening crying in my dorm, trying to formulate some type of plan to get out of working with him. Thursday came, and went. Mostly quiet, as I heard he went to visit Ezra in jail and was excused. Why he gets the special treatment he does, I don't understand.
Thankfully, his bullying was not of the sexual nature and he did his best to avoid any personal contact with me. Which is perfectly fine for me, because the night at the Abbey was the most embarrassing, degrading, disgusting thing that's ever happened to me. What's even worse… is I can't stop thinking about it. Him. What we did in that bedroom. I think about it when I'm alone, in my bed, just as he said I would. It's shameful. I know it's wrong, but I can't stop. I hate myself for the thoughts I keep having. What kind of person is attracted to someone as evil as Rhys Blackwood? Someone who’s just as messed-up as he is, that’s who.
The library is quiet and deserted, which is to be expected when it’s well after midnight on a Saturday. Exactly one week since I was alone with Rhys. It seemed like life was going back to normal. I was back to being a nobody and everyone was at the Abbey partying while I studied my life away. A pang of jealousy hits my gut full force. I’m not like most of the girls at St. Augustine, having everything and more within arm’s reach. If they fail a class, daddy dearest only has to make one phone call to the headmaster and suddenly they have an A-plus. They’ve never had to lift a finger for anything in their lives. That’s what happens when your family's name is on the side of the school. But for people like me? We have to work for it. We have to sacrifice and study until we pass out on our books in front of us. We aren’t afforded the same luxuries. But, as fleeting as the jealousy is, it’s gone. Because at the end of the day, I know I worked for everything I have. My degree, my valedictorian status. My GPA. I didn’t spend my nights at a party, I didn’t cheat or lie to get the grade I needed. I did it all with unbelievably hard work I have sacrificed everything for.
Things went too far last week. I should turn him in, I should do so many things but I'm too afraid of what telling the truth will do for my future. There's so much at stake. My college career could go up in flames if he's telling the truth, if there really is some video of our last altercation. Harvard won't stop to ask questions on what really happened; they'll blacklist me simply because a potential student of theirs is caught up in any kind of scandal.
People who attend an Ivy League school as prestigious as Harvard don't get second chances, and I can't let my future be ripped away from me because of a video. There was nothing I could do to stop him, I’m completely helpless and wholly at his mercy.
It's not like I want to spend every free moment I have with my head buried in a textbook, there are plenty of other things I would prefer to be doing, but if I slack, then I could lose my one and only shot at Harvard. I pull up the PowerPoint the teacher assigned us in class earlier today on my iPad and quickly tap through the first few slides, taking notes as I go when I hear a quiet thud from the other side of the library.
I immediately get up from the table and grab my phone. After the last time I was in the library alone, I'm permanently on edge and anxious. I make sure to have my phone charged and close in case I need it. A sliver of protection that gives me the smallest sense of security. The only reason I'm even here tonight and not in my dorm is because my neighbor has a penchant for late night sex with freshmen and my grades seriously can't afford to suffer because of it. I asked her if there was any way she could possibly find anywhere else to "hang out" and she called me a prude and told me to fuck off. I can’t help it if she’s so loud I can hear every single thing through the thin walls of the dorm. Not to mention the bed hits the wall so hard, it knocked off my floating shelf, almost causing me sudden death. So, there went our conversation, and now I'm here. In the one place I'd prefer to never be alone in again, just to be able to have a quiet place to study.
Except now, my quiet place is tainted with the darkness that is Rhys Blackwood. Everything he touches turns to a charred, ruined mess. The places I once felt comfortable and safe are now the places I dread to step foot inside. The library, the hallways, class whenever I’m the first one to arrive. I’m constantly looking over my shoulder for him, aware of how he can strike at any time. This isn’t just apprehension, this is full on paranoia. Before walking into the library tonight, I took a deep breath and reminded myself being afraid is only giving Rhys more ammunition for his arsenal, and I refuse to give him anything more than he's already taken. It’s a mantra I’ve adapted over the past several days and the only thing keeping the anxiety somewhat at bay.
"Who's there?" I call out. The shelves surrounding me are dark, only illuminated by the pale glow of moonlight that shines through the large stained glass windows along the wall. I hear nothing more, but a sense of foreboding settles deep into my bones and I want to flee on instinct. You know the feeling in the pit of your stomach that tells you when things go wrong? Listen to that feeling because it's very rarely ever wrong. The feeling in my stomach told me to run and not to look back.
Another thud, this time closer.
I haven't heard from Rhys in a week. Is he back for more of his fucked-up version of punishing me?
My heartbeat races inside my chest. A furious thud against my delicate rib cage, like it might burst through at any moment.
I can't see past the stark darkness of shadows between the shelves. Everything is black. It's what lies in wait beyond those shadows that causes the uneasy fear in the depth of my stomach. I hurriedly put all of my things back into my backpack, not worrying in the slightest about putting things in there neatly or organized. Before I can shove the last of my things into my backpack, a tall, dark figure steps out from the blanket of darkness.