Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He snickers loudly when I turn away from him to walk to Spanish. “Don’t you want to know how I’ve been able to track you down?” He’s so damn proud of himself, like a little kid who just found a new toy and wants to show it off. I don’t think little kids are usually this smug, though. “You sure looked surprised when you saw me standing there. Don’t tell me you have nothing to say.”
I’m not going to give him the satisfaction. I would rather bite off my own tongue.
God, this is ridiculous. Walking along, trying like hell to pretend he doesn’t exist. Of course, with him following so close behind me, we can’t help but attract attention. I stare straight ahead, careful to not let anybody catch my eye. They don’t exist. None of them do. They are not laughing at me, they’re not elbowing each other and pointing and taunting.
It only feels like they are.
“Since you’re too rude to ask,” Briggs continues, “I’ll tell you. I went to the administration office and had them give me your schedule.”
I don’t know if it’s the way he says it or the words he uses, but something makes me trip over my own feet in surprise. They shouldn’t be allowed to do that! I don’t care who he is, or who he thinks he is. That’s a complete violation.
What a shame nobody would care if I complained. I’ve always known Wicked Falls is only a good place to live if you are, in fact, one of the elite. It’s like the rest of us might as well not exist except to serve them. To cook their meals and clean their houses and mow their lawns. I didn’t know the influence of the Five Families and the people they’re close with extended this far or ran this deep. Briggs could do anything he wanted around here and get away with it. I understand that now.
And lucky me. I’m the person he’s decided to torture. And there’s no end date in sight.
“Think of it this way,” he offers as we cross the quad, with me walking as fast as I can and him easily keeping up with his longer strides. “We’ll have the chance for so much more quality time together. Just think of it. I’ll be glued to your side constantly.”
If I bite my tongue much harder, it’ll bleed. Why is it so important that he makes my life a living hell? I can’t change what happened. I didn’t force my mom to sleep with his dad; I didn’t force his dad to accept Mom’s seduction or whatever it was. There are some things I don’t like to think about too much, and that’s one of them.
I know what she did—what both of our parents did—meant ruining his family. The sad part is, before he decided to make my life a misery, I felt sorry for him. The way I would feel sorry for anybody whose parents failed them, the way my mom has always failed me. I know what it’s like to feel alone, like I have to handle everything for myself. I grew up way earlier than I had to, thanks to her. And the men she brought home.
How can I feel sorry for anyone who would choose to take their pain and pour it all over somebody else?
Not to mention the way he takes joy from it.
“You know, we’re going to have to start working on your attitude problem.” We are nearing the liberal arts building where language classes are held. He’s starting to get desperate now that he hasn’t managed to break through the walls I’ve put up around me. I hear it in his voice, the way every word comes through gritted teeth. “It’s fucking rude to ignore somebody, or didn’t your whore mother ever teach you that? I guess not. She was too busy sucking off random strangers, wasn’t she? Can’t teach your daughter how to behave when there’s a dick in your mouth.”
I can’t even escape inside the building, since he follows me in there, too. My heart is racing to the point where it makes me sick. I’m going to throw up. This is too much. How much more of it am I supposed to take?
“Maybe she taught you something.” The next thing I know, his hand is around my arm, and he’s dragging me into the bathroom. I could scream for help, only who’s going to help me? I would only draw a crowd who would probably cheer him on.
“What are you doing?” I whisper with my heart in my throat once the door closes, and he shoves me against it. The line of stalls along the wall opposite me look empty. It’s just the two of us in here.
It’s getting harder to breathe, harder to think. My head is spinning with all the possibilities of what he could do to me now.