Justin looks up from his phone in surprise. “What? Why would Chase do this to you?”
“Because he’s an asshole?” I offer. “I think when I refused to get back together with him, he took that as an opportunity to, I don’t know, punish me? It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Justin’s expression seems stuck halfway between pity and fury, but he schools himself before he responds. “Jesus. You really think he’d do something like this? The flowers, the uhhh—” I don’t make him finish his sentence, not wanting to remember the smell of rotting meat that accompanied his last delivery.
“I do,” I tell him honestly. “But I’d love some sort of confirmation or proof that it’s him. So if you still want to do your fancy computer stuff,” I wave my hand at his phone. “I’d really appreciate it.”
He smirks wide enough to show his dimples. “I’m happy to do myfancy computer stuff, but what’s the plan in the meantime? Should we call the police?”
“The justice system isn’t exactly known for taking stalkers seriously,” I grumble. “I already have a restraining order, but until we have proof, I doubt the police will do anything. Not without something definitive, anyway.”
I already know what my best route of protection is, and it doesn’t involve anyone in a uniform. It involves four men, who I know wouldn’t hesitate to step in, if asked.
They’d take care of him for you. Leave him in pieces for his family to find.
Justin sighs. “I know what you mean. About the police not helping. Even with proof, they’re next to worthless.” Something dark crosses over his face. “We can’t just sit around and wait for him to really hurt you, though. I’m not going to let that happen. I’m not going to stand back and let another asshole get away with this. Not again.”
“What do you mean, not again?” I ask, frowning.
He freezes, like he hadn’t realized he said it.
“Justin?” I prompt.
He blows a lock of hair out of his eyes, refusing to look at me. “You remember that secret I told you? How I got kicked out of my grad program?”
“Yeah,” I say, dread creeping into my chest. “For assaulting someone.” He nods, slowly. “A woman?” I venture.
Justin’s head whips up in shock. “What? No!”
“You said it!” I accuse him. “You said to me that there was a girl and?—”
“And there was!” Justin shoves his phone back into his pocket. The look he gives me is heartbroken and wounded. “ButIdidn’t hurt her.”
“Okay.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Then tell me. What happened?”
“There was a girl, and she got hurt. But she wasn’t… She’s not the one I assaulted.” Justin runs a hand through his hair. “I was TAing a class, and there was a student who was…” he pauses, searching for the words. “Great. She was great. Maybe not the best in the class, but better than a lot of the guys in my grad courses. High marks, creative solutions when she hit coding issues, really just…great.”
“And?”
Justin huffs. “And then she just stopped showing up. And when she was there, she wasn’t…you know, present. Her grades dropped, her work was subpar, and I just couldn’t understand what happened. So I started asking around, talking to the other TAs about it.”
I wait, while he takes a deep breath.
“She was raped,” he tells me.
My heart sinks. “Oh God,” I whisper.
“This asshole she was dating took her to a party and—” He runs a hand over his face, looking exhausted, suddenly.
I take a step closer to him, reaching out my hand to touch his shoulder.
“She did everything right, too,” Justin continues, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “Not that there’s awrongway to react when something like this happens, you know? But she did everything theysayyou’re supposed to do. She went to the nurse, got a physical, and reported it all to the dean and the police. She trusted them to handle it.”
“But they didn’t?”
Justin laughs, but it’s a bitter, hateful sound. “No. They said it was a mistake. The guy was on a football scholarship, going to take them to the playoffs. They pretended to do an investigation, but it never went anywhere.”
“That’s horrible,” I say, queasy just thinking about it.
