Feeling the weight of his body pressed against mine, my heaving chest is at odds with his. One hand wraps around the back of my head. His fingers flossing my hair as he pulls me closer. His free hand slides between my legs, attempting to part them, but I put up resistance, clenching them tightly together. It doesn’t stop him from sliding further and massaging my inner thigh like he’s kneading bread as he tries to squeeze his body between them. I’m no match for his strength. My labored breaths mixed with a low grumble that escapes him are the only sounds when his rock-hard cock presses into my stomach.
Swinging an arm around, I hit him in the back of the head, but he doesn’t budge. Stretching an arm up, I try to pull off his mask, but in an instant, he grabs both of my arms, pinning them over my head. He looks me dead in the eye and a newfound fear washes over me. He’s going to rape me, and he’s going to get away with it. “Please, stop,” I choke out. My words are cracked, broken and hardly recognizable.
Just when I think he’s going to take it a step further and begin stripping my clothes off, he reaches into his pockets and slouches down in front of me while holding something in his hand. Could be a gun, could be a rope to tie me up. I don’t even know. The only light is the beam of the moon cascading between us.
When he leans into the beam, there is suddenly something so familiar about him. I can’t see his eyes in the holes of the mask, but something feels familiar. This isn’t a stranger.
Without a word, he stretches his hand toward me and I gasp, thinking he’s going to grab hold of me again. Instead, he offers me something. An envelope? With a shaky hand, I snatch it away, hoping that if I take it he’ll leave.
I don’t take my eyes off him as I grip the envelope tightly at my side. “Ok, I’ve...I’ve got it. Go now, please.”
He just kneels in front of me, staring, examining, memorizing my fearful expression.
My entire body flinches when his face approaches mine. His mask trawls the skin of my cheek. His breath flowing out of the mouth of the mask and hitting the crease of my neck. I can hear him draw in a deep breath as he inhales. On the exhale, he whispers in a raspy tone, “Boo.”
My phone begins vibrating on the floor, sliding around like a worm, and it grabs his attention. I steal a glance at it. ‘Security’ flashes as the caller. Suddenly, lights flash outside my bedroom window and my assailant is on his feet and leaving as quickly as he came.
Still in a state of terror, I lift my hand that clutches the envelope. Sliding my finger along the sealed edge, I open it and pull out a card inside.
‘Wanna play?’ is written in big bold letters. Before I can even begin to think about what it means, I’m interrupted, or saved rather.
“Ms. Rivers,” a man’s voice says. I tear my eyes off the card and lift my head to find Harry, from security, in my room. He hurries over to my side. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ok, Harry. They’re gone now.” I tuck the card back in the envelope and push myself off the floor. My legs are still weak and I feel like I’m having an out of body experience. My mind is foggy and my heart hasn’t stopped hammering inside my chest.
“We’ve contacted the local police. They’ll be here shortly to investigate. It appears someone was in the house. Came through the library window.”
I just nod my head, squeezing the envelope so tightly in my hand that I can feel the corner threatening a paper cut if I don’t loosen my grip.
Harry continues to ramble on as he leads me out of my bedroom. Unable to comprehend anything that he says, I just walk alongside him.
We head down the stairs, through the corridor, until we stop at the entrance to the library. I immediately look at the window and it’s exactly as I saw it on the video. Something catches my eye, and it must have caught Harry's attention, too, because he walks briskly over, crunching the glass beneath his shoes. He bends over to pick up the piece of glass with a string of fabric attached to it. There’s a smear of blood on the glass as well as the black fabric. Harry pulls a plastic bag from his pocket, shakes it open and drops the glass inside of it. He looks over at me. “Whoever was here wasn’t very careful.”
My arms cross over my chest, hugging myself tightly. “It’s just some immature kids from my past. No surprise there.”
“You may want to call your parents and—”
“No!” I interrupt him. “I’m sorry, but no. They need this trip. I’ll have the window replaced tomorrow. I’m ok. I promise.”
“Ms. Rivers—”
“Harry. I promise. I’m ok. I’d just like to request 24-hour security on the premises for a bit. Just until this is all settled.”
He gives me a nod of approval. Normally, we don’t have security on the property. Just the people who sit in a room and watch monitors or take alert calls for customers in the area. Harry has been here on numerous occasions and I’m starting to feel like I know him personally. Lord knows he’s aware that the town fucking hates me.
Once a police officer comes and takes my statement, everyone leaves. It’s after one o’clock in the morning when I’m finally crawling back into bed. I’d considered calling Amanda and having her come stay over, but it’s so late already and we both have school in the morning.
Drool pools around my mouth when I smack my lips together and adjust my eyes to the burning sun that’s found its way into my eyeballs. Pinching them shut, I roll over in my bed and pull the blankets up, not ready to get out of bed just yet.
Instantly, my heart drops and I spring up to a sitting position before grabbing my phone off my nightstand. “Eight-thirty!” I blurt out. “Shit!” I jump out of bed, anxiety-ridden over the fact that I’m fucking late...again. It’s still my first week of school and I’ve been late all but one day so far. I’m sure the teachers think I’m the worst student in the history of seniors.
Pulling open the door to my walk-in closet, I yank down an old East Pointe hoodie and grab a pair of blue jeans from the shelf, not even sure which ones I grabbed. Snatching up a bra, some panties, and a pair of socks on the way, I go to my ensuite bathroom and throw myself together for another glorious day at Cutler Creek High.
Aside from my lack of appeal this morning, I’ll walk in there with my head held high and a smile on my face and the world will be none the wiser that I had a break-in, was basically threatened, and shot a damn BB gun at someone last night. No one knows anything, because I don’t share that information. It’s best not to feed the haters; otherwise, they just get hungry for more.
With my notebook in hand, I walk through the open door to Mr. P's class. It's so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. That is, until my clumsy ass trips over the leg of a chair as I'm making my way to my chair. All eyes shoot to me—all except for Zack's. He's the first person my eyes landed on, and he doesn't even lift his head from his book. Both arms are stretched across the table on either side of his open text book. He's purposely not looking at me, and for some reason, it bugs the hell out of me.
Dropping my notebook down beside him, I pull my chair out and sit down. Still nothing. He's wearing a pair of prominent bags under his eyes and, for the first time, when he lifts his arm to flip the page in his book, I notice the tattoo on his forearm. I've never noticed it before, but it's some sort of symbol of a circle with knots around it. A Celtic symbol, maybe. Shifting my focus away from him, I flip open my notebook and begin drawing.