“I can’t go home with you. It’s a school night.”
His fingers circle my ankles like shackles. “That wasn’t a question. I thought you’d appreciate the chance to show your gratitude for not telling on you this morning.” He straddles me, slowly unknotting his tie from my wrists and tossing it in the footwell. “You’re my new toy and I want to play.”
“No.” My stomach’s crawling up my throat. “I need to get back to my place. Bryan finishes work at five-thirty.”
“Good for him.”
“If I’m not there when he comes home, he’ll start phoning people.” My voice pitches wildly. “School. Group. The neighbours. Once it gets past six, he’ll probably call the police.”
Damien snorts. “You’re not five. The police will tell him to settle and call back in a week.”
“No, that’s what they’d do ifyourdad reported you missing. I’m a blind girl with a history of severe bullying who never stays out late. They’ll take his call seriously.” The lie comes out smoothly even though my larynx is tight.
He hesitates, and traces of doubt cling to his voice. “But you must stay over at friends’ places.”
“What friends?”
His stillness at my flippant retort speaks volumes. But pity is better than him dragging me home.
Despite being denied, his tone remains warm as he taps my collarbone. “It’s your job to be available to satisfy my demands. My role’s just to think of them, and what Ithinkis that I’ll only take you home now if you promise to stay at mine over the weekend. Fuck!”
The seat shifts as he sits back, squeezing the bridge of his nose.
“That won’t work, my dad’s throwing a party. We’ll have to make it the weekend after.”
Damien gets out and guides me from the back to the front seat, his hands steady and careful. When he settles behind the wheel, his fingers drum an impatient rhythm.
“Sort the weekend withBryanbefore then, because I really don’t need the police on my case.”
A whole weekend.
I earned a postponement, but I’m like a soft toy with its stuffing torn out and it’s only been one afternoon. Will there be anything left of me when he’s done?
The engine roars into life and I draw in a deep breath. It’s still ten days away.
I’ll have come up with a better plan by then.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAMIEN
My body feelsglorious when I wake the next morning. Humming with excitement for the day ahead, all traces of my internal friction gone.
After yesterday’s wrangling, Ophelia probably needs breathing room, but I’m too impatient. I drive to her house, waiting outside until Bryan leaves and I can let myself in with my new key.
I’m quiet as I can be, spreading my weight on the linoleum tiles, adjusting my schoolbag so it doesn’t bump against the wall.
When I hear movement from her room, I slowly mount the staircase, drawing it out for as long as I can, taking one step at a time. My feet stay near the wall, lessening the noise, and I pause at every creak, ear cocked for sounds from the room above.
Two steps short of the landing, Ophelia strides into view and freezes. A beat passes, then she spins back into her room and slams the door.
I launch upwards, shouldering open the door, and kicking it shut behind me. My schoolbag drops with a thud, barricading the entrance. “Morning, Snowflake. Sleep well?”
Her eyes widen. “You can’t be in here.”
Slowly I advance, my fingertips trailing along the wall, rasping against the embossed wallpaper.
“Don’t see anyone that’s going to stop me.” When I’m a foot away, I drop my arms to my sides, ready to grab hold if she lunges. “How’re you feeling this morning?”
