“Leave.”
He moved his head side to side. “No.”
My body clenched; a jolt shot through me.
“Get the fuck out, Tyler.”
“No.” Again, he shook his head.
And then my hand flew into the air and whipped down across his face. He reeled back and hit the floor. He looked up at me, eyes wet and wide.
“Get up.”
He started to stand and I swooped toward him, yanking him to his feet.
“Fuck—”
I seized the back of his neck, twisting his head and hissing. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes—” I tossed him backward and he slammed into a side table. Books crashed to the ground and his leg caught the lamp by the cord—it flew to the floor and shattered. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him, whimpering, to the bedroom.
“Stand up.”
He stood, cowering, terrified, electric. The side of his face was bright pink from my hand. I slapped it again, a sharp whack. He yelped. His lower lip had split, a bubble of blood darkening.
“Take off your pants.”
His hands scrambled to his jeans. He had them just to his ankles when I picked him up and threw him onto the bed. I flipped him over and yanked down his underwear. I climbed behind him and pushed his face into the mattress. I held it there and undid my belt.
“This is what you want?”
He moaned. “Yes.”
I hit him across the back of the head and gripped his neck, the tendons pushing pack.
The rest took a minute, no more. After, I sat at the edge of the mattress looking away while Tyler dressed and let himself out. Only when he was gone did I realize what he had been saying, just barely audible, prone and unresisting beneath me.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 15
I woke up the next morning with a desperate urge to get out of Sawyer. I found a late flight and booked it and drove to the airport in the evening. On my way through security, I called my mother. “I’m coming to Chicago to meet you and Dad.” She was surprised, of course. I made an excuse, said there was an archive at the university I needed to visit. A quick trip, but we could spend Saturday together, before their party.
It was a short flight, just over an hour, and I found myself hoping it would last longer. The claustrophobic hug of the plane soothed me. If only we could stay there, suspended in space, circling the Earth forever. At some point, I nodded off and came to as we approached for landing into a rain-shrouded city, the lights dull and fuzzed out below us. Chicago’s vastness always shocked me, spread out across disappeared plains, comfortable and at ease with its own reach. I checked into a hotel a mile or so from where my parents were staying; I’d meet them in the morning. I scanned the room service menu but didn’t have the energy to make decisions. Down in the lobby, in a mirrored corner, I found the bar.
I had a view of the entrance and, as the bartender fixed my drink, two women appeared through the revolving doors, bodies arced toward one another as they strode along. I recognized the intimacy at once: they were lovers. One seemed to be trying to convince the other of something, tugging playfully at her sleeve.As they approached I could hear her coaxing. “One more. We’re celebrating. It’s too early for bed.” She flashed a smile and I watched as the other shed the last of her resistance. She smiled back. “Just one.”
The coaxing one pulled the other toward her, into the fold of her arm. She pointed beside me at the empty stools. “May we?”
“Of course.” I shifted, making room.
“Don’t move. You’re perfect.” She waved down the bartender and ordered two beers and then added, “And two shots of whiskey—” she looked at me “—no, three. Three shots.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“We’re in this together. I’m Justine. This is Clara.”
Clara reached across Justine and took my hand. “You’ll never be rid of us now.”
