“I’m not—I just—” I try to yank my wrist away but his grip tightens. “Let me go.”
His eyes flare, jaw flexing before he moves quickly, pushing me down onto the couch and crawling on top of me. Tears burn my eyelids as I try to push his broad chest away. I’m helpless. This is what I get for going on a date with a rapist, I think.
“Please, stop,” I beg, pounding at his chest with my fists. He stops me, clutching both my wrists in one hand and hauling them over my head before he grinds his hips into my pelvis. It hurts, and the way he has me pinned is terrifying. “Stop it, please, please, don’t do this.”
He presses his lips against mine to shut me up and I bite his bottom lip as hard as I can. I taste blood instantly and he pulls away, dropping my wrists to press a thumb to his lip. I take the moment of distraction to push and kick and thrash my way out from under him. I fall to the floor and scramble to my feet, launching myself across the room and toppling the coffee table as I do. He trips over it and falls to the floor before grasping formy foot. I lunge for the front door, yanking it open and running down the hallway screaming for help at the top of my lungs. When I reach the stairwell I turn to find the hallway empty. His door is closed—no sign of the monster who was chasing me just a moment ago.
Barefoot and shaking, I make my way down the stairs quickly. By the time I burst out into the lobby, I realize I must look unhinged—I’m barefoot and my hair is disheveled. Thankfully, the lobby is empty. I push open the doors of the building and suck in a deep breath. A cab is arriving at that moment. An older couple climbs out of the back, and I crawl in. “Columbus Circle, please.”
The taxi driver looks me up and down a moment but doesn’t say anything, just nods and then takes off from the curb.
The tears I’d been stuffing down finally fall in salty streaks down my cheeks. I narrowly avoided a sexual assault—I put myself in the same position Savannah was in, only she ultimately didn’t make it out alive. I take a deep breath as I realize that whatever I just narrowly escaped was worth it if I can play a part in getting justice for the women who didn’t make it out. If I can ensure he never does this to another woman again.
I just need to get home and send an email to The Society and tell them what I found: proof that this man is the monster Savannah said he was. I just hope it’s enough.
My phone buzzes then and I pull it out of my pocket and glance at the screen.
Fucking bitch.
It’s Matt. I open the message and then block him with a smile. He hasn’t seen the worst of me yet.
Fifteen
Aubrey
“Ellie!” I pound on the door and call out. “Ellie! Open the door!”
The door swings open a moment later. Ellie’s expression is alarmed. She doesn’t say a word, just leaves the door open and turns in silence and walks to the sofa. She folds her legs under herself, eyes cast out the windows to Columbus Circle below.
“Are you okay?” I sit next to her.
She shakes her head but remains silent.
“Well,” I toss the morning copy ofThe New York Postat her. “I take it you’ve seen this?”
“Seen what?” Ellie scrunches her eyebrows at me.
“Turn to page three.” I nod to the paper.
She does and then her eyebrows lift with surprise.
“Oh my God.” Ellie’s eyes scan the article, which details every moment of her near-rape by the Columbia professor and includes a copy of the check stub made out to one of his students. Although Savannah’s name is blurred out, the implication is clear. The author of the article also insinuates that Human Resources at the university was made aware of the professor’s sexual transgressions with his students and covered it up.
“I can’t believe they printed it,” she finally says.
“I can’t believe he almost raped you.”
Ellie drops the paper on the coffee table in front of us and then leans back into the couch. Emotion hovers in her eyes and she wipes her palms over her face. “I keep replaying every moment in my mind. I don’t think I’ve slept more than a few hours since it happened last week.”
My voice drops an octave. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just... couldn’t believe it almost happened. I kept thinking about what it must have been like for Savannah. Every time I thought about it I started crying, so I just didn’t have the words to say anything. I got home that night, sent an email to The Society with a photo of the check stub with Savannah’s name on it, and I haven’t talked about it since. Jack knows something is wrong, but I just keep putting him off and saying that work has been stressful.”
I nod. I’ve been careful. I don’t think she suspects anything, but I’ve been doing damage control as much as possible. I’ve stopped by every evening under the ruse of being a good friend, but really I’ve been keeping tabs on her. I knew when I moved into this place I’d end up seeing Ellie a lot more than I’d like to, but I didn’t expect it to be this much.
“My husband would not be happy if he found out I was spending time with other men in an effort to destroy them,” she says, sarcasm lacing her statement.
“Does he always have opinions on how you live your life?” I quip. It’s weird playing both sides, gaining her trust and manipulating her thoughts—but I guess there isn’t any other way to make things happen. It’s been interesting getting to know her, anyway—we’re nothing alike, she and I. It’s refreshing and annoying all in the same breath. I like the challenge.
