It’s relativelyeasy to sneak out of Adam’s dorm as most students are in class by now. But it was still supremely stupid to come here last night. I’m not sure if Adam fully bought my explanation about Wes, but I did my best. I told him he has a photo of me snorting coke, and he’s threatening to show it to my parents, but I didn’t tell him the rest. I wanted to, but I just can’t. I can’t drag anyone else into this mess, and he’s already severely pissed at Wes Imagine how pissed he’d be if he knew the full truth.
Adam is one of my dad’s guys, and he can’t get involved. Especially now the Chicago Bears are showing interest in him. Adam’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he was telling me about it as he walked me outside. Having a scout take an interest is a big deal, so there’s no way he can get dragged into my shit.
Besides, there’s nothing anyone can do to help me.
I didn’t remember when I first woke up, but I remember now.
I know exactly why I was banging on Sam and Adam’s door last night. Why I got so completely trashed I was beyond the point of caring. Maybe a part of me wanted someone to find me. To report to my mom. Because if I’m kicked off campus, and thrown out of the house, I’ll be forced to leave, and then Wes won’t find me.
Intense pain presses down on my chest, and my thoughts turn dark. I lean against a tree across campus, trying to stifle my sobs as pain climbs up my throat.
Images of the video Wes sent me yesterday return to haunt me.
I don’t know when it was taken, or how he got his hands on it, but someone in the room clearly recorded it. It’s obvious that the majority of people engaged in the orgy, myself included, were out of their fucking minds on alcohol or drugs or, in my case, most likely a mix of both.
I threw up watching myself being fucked, simultaneously, by Zach and another guy in our circle.
The thoughts of my parents watching that or, worse, the entire campus—if he uploads it to the college app like he threatened—has me practically convulsing, as I squeeze my eyes shut, hugging the tree, silently crying out for someone to tell me what to do.
I don’t know how to make him go away this time.
If I don’t show up at the hotel room he’s rented on Saturday night, he says he’s uploading it.
Reality is like a stake through my heart as I realize there’s only one thing I can do.
I need to let him, and his friends, do what they want to me.
Even if I already know this is one rape I’ll never ever recover from.
11
Adam
Practice was a blur for so many reasons. My mind has been on overdrive since Emily slept in my bed. I can’t shake that night. I can’t concentrate on my classes. I even fucked up a sale, charging less than Ray’s asking price.
Then there’s Ray.
He reamed my ass for not showing up for work. He almost took my cut away, but I shut that shit down. He loses me. He loses clients.
My phone rings as I’m getting out of my truck outside my dorm. Mom’s name comes across the screen.
“Mom,” I answer as panic sucks the air out of my lungs. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. Yes. Phoebe and I are fine.”
I wipe the sweat from my brow, releasing a relieved breath.
“I wanted to tell you the good news. I have an interview on Monday at a bed and breakfast in town. It’s an eight-hour shift while Phoebe is in school, and no weekends. So, if I get the job, then you can stop...you know.”
I suspect Phoebe is in the room with her or close by where she doesn’t want her to hear.
“That’s great news, Mom.” It is. But her minimum-wage job isn’t going to erase all our debt or support her and Phoebe, particularly Phoebe’s medical bills.
“If I get the job, you’ll quit. Right?” she asks.
If I know my mom, she’s holding her breath.
I can’t bring myself to confirm I won’t sell drugs anymore. I’m digging myself into a situation I might not have a way out of, but it’s one that keeps food on the table for them. Besides, my commitment of three months isn’t up yet.
