“Naughty girl, hitting people,” he says, either unaware of the irony, or very much enjoying it. I’d put money on the latter because he’s a sick fuck.
He comes inside me and his semen drips out of me as I lie face down on a car in a driveway, wearing a prison uniform because I wasn’t checked out properly, and who even knows if it was legal.
“Get up,” he says, smacking my ass and fastening his pants. “You need a shower and to go to bed.”
CHAPTER 9
Laura
Breakfast is a silent affair the next morning, held across a table that could hold dozens of people. I bet he likes to entertain. He seems like a man who enjoys a soiree.
“What now?”
“Now you go to classes,” he says. “I don’t want you skipping any more of them. And you have a shift later today at the restaurant.”
“So you’re not going to hold me captive against my will?”
“No,” he says. “I have a series of lectures starting in Los Angeles later today. I don’t have time to hold you captive. You’re going to have to behave yourself.”
He finishes his coffee, gets up, drops a kiss on my head, and leaves the room, saying, “Dennis will drive you home when you’re ready. Just go out to the driveway.”
Once he’s gone, the first thing I do is call my mom.
“Jake started his new school today,” Mom says.
“Really? Where?”
“Military school,” she says. “He’s going to board there. They’ll keep him out of trouble.”
“How are you affording that?”
“He’s earned a scholarship.”
“How, Mom?”
“I don’t know,” she says, sounding harassed by my questions. “I got a call last night offering a place at the school and I was told all tuition was covered and I packed him up and put him on a bus this morning. It’s time he learned that his actions have consequences.”
“He’s twelve, Mom.”
“He is. And you’re twenty, and Serenity is eighteen, and Eva is sixteen, and Sasha is eight, and Brackie and Etie are five,” she says. “I have a lot of kids, Laura, and I can’t keep up with Jake. He needs someone who can look after him and keep him on track. We’re failing him. I’ve got to go to work.”
“Okay, bye, Mom.”
I know who is behind this. Fucking Samuel sent my brother to military school.
Now he’s fucked off to Los Angeles to pretend to be a good person for money. He’s going to have hundreds, or even thousands of people hanging on his every word.
And I have to go to class and pretend like the last few weeks haven’t been an absolute whirlwind of stalking, sex, murder, andwhere the fuck is Dave, for that matter? I don’t want to talk to him, but at this point I’m worried he’s dead.
It’s so hard to focus in class. It’s hard to think about anything other than the fact that I got myself arrested and my kid brother thrown into military school. I was so proud of myself last night for adapting to this whole new world, but I think I might just be fucking up.
I don’t even have his number. That’s what’s so crazy. This man has violated me in every way possible and I can’t even…
Sam
“Professor Rollins, what’s your take on the new definitions of…”
I’m barely listening to the questions, and hardly listening to my own answers. At this point these conferences no longer require real thought. I am an accepted international expert on personality disorders, and I know the material inside out. There are no questions that I cannot answer, so I let part of my mind unburdened by consciousness take care of this Q and A while my conscious mind is in a smaller city in California, where a sweet co-ed is starting to become unmoored from her mundane reality and blossom into an entirely different creature. She’s so beautiful. So innocent. So perfectly corruptible. I see the dark flower in the center of her soul. I can imagine her potential, what she will be when she is thoroughly dominated.
