I pick out my suburb, tracing the route from there to Zach’s house—a different world—and Trent’s and Caylon’s. From there, I flick to Wilbur’s, holding my thumb up to block him from the panorama.
The brief joy fades. When I lower my hand, he’s still there.
I thought I was one of many. Being the only girl makes things so much worse, it’s hard to quantify.
It will never end. That’s the key change. I thought he liked young girls because that’s how I was when he pursued me. Deep down, I believed there was a best before date and I was rapidly approaching the opposite side of it.
Now, there’s no built-in expiration. He’s talking about kids, marriage. Talking about trapping me with him forever.
No wonder he pulled out the stops with his latest threat. Because that’s obviously the billionaire villain version of asking the love of his life to marry him. By threatening to upload videos. Image-based abuse for the win.
He’ll never go away. I’ll never be free of him. Maybe someone smarter than me could sort it out, but I have to deal with him using what I’ve got. My limited intellect and an immense capacity for dealing with far more than any teenage girl should have to deal with.
The smooth branch feels good under my hands. I stroke the wood, peeling off a few scrappy remnants of the last outer. Dropping them to the ground beneath me.
I could jump. Hit the ground and break my neck.
But it’s not high enough. My gaze turns back to the city lights while my mind continues to fidget with my problems.
My legs swing underneath me, hands gripping the smooth wood, while my mind idly thinks about jumping. When it stops that scenario, it moves to a new one, softly reassuring in its simplicity.
It leads me to think about the length of rope in the boot of my car.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
CAYLON
By Friday, I’m feeling antsy. There’s been no change in the situation. If anything, Em avoids me even more than before.
She skips at least one class we should have together and maybe I’m reading into the situation but it’s not like her. Despite her popularity, maybe because of it, she’s always been a stickler for attendance. This week her schedule has sprung a few leaks.
I only started this campaign to twist her arm into accepting something I know she already wants. Maybe get a few laughs at her expense before she comes to her senses and I clean up the mess.
But, what the fuck? Why is she digging in her heels so badly?
Half of me wants to believe she’s just getting into the chase but the part of me still tethered to reality assures me that’s not true.
If she were enjoying it, the bags under her eyes wouldn’t keep growing. The arms clutching her midsection as she scurries through the hallways wouldn’t keep tightening.
The stabs of guilt wouldn’t keep slicing into my chest.
When I walk into geography, I immediately see she’s not there. For the second time this week.
I’d hang around in the corridor, watching for her instead, but the class has already started. I waited until a full minute after the second bell had gone to make sure she’d be in there. Now, I’m trapped.
“Caylon?”
The teacher stares at me like it’s a question and I’m tempted to shake my head, but reluctantly admit, “Yes.”
“You’re wanted in the principal’s office.”
“Because?”
He meets my eyes with a steady gaze. “Because of something I’m sure they’ll tell you about when you get yourself over there.” When I still hesitate by the door, he adds. “Now.”
I storm out of the class, striding along the empty hallways towards the main block, hands clenched into fists, throat clutching. What now?
As I walk, someone calls out my name, but I ignore them, too consumed with worry to pay attention.
