Nightfall

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Nightfall Page 20

by Douglas, Penelope


  It was time for a plan.

  I walked down the hallway and entered the game room, spotting the pool cues on the wall. I took one down, pausing as I looked at all the paintings adorning the maroon wallpaper on the walls.

  This place was like Dracula’s Castle with all its nooks and treasures. But sad and dying, too. Why would people send their kids here? Why not a beach, with sun and warmth? Depression only made moods worse. Was this place really supposed to help?

  I gazed at the paintings of ships and pirates, of sea battles and sea creatures. What was the connection? Did the person who previously owned the house enjoy the ocean?

  Or were we close to one?

  A sudden weight anchored me to the ground, a new possibility I hadn’t considered.

  If this was an island, I was fucked.

  I needed to get to the roof. It was the best view I was going to get.

  I shook my head. There were too many problems, and I wasn’t solving any of them. It was Thursday, and my co-workers at the firm would’ve reported me missing by now, right? Missing one day would be odd for me, but two?

  I wasn’t friendly with any of them. No one had a key to my apartment. But they’d contact the police if I wasn’t showing up to work or answering my phone. Right?

  Not that it would do any good. No one would find me here anyway.

  “You walk around bold as brass, don’t you?” someone said from the dark corner in the room.

  I startled, turning around and searching for the source.

  “Like you have nothing to fear,” he added.

  I twisted my head right again, finally seeing long, black-clad legs. He slouched in the chair at the far corner behind the chess table. His face was in shadow.

  I inched around the pool table, toward the door, but kept my eyes on him.

  “But you forget,” he panted. “We’re all in here for a reason.”

  Taylor.

  There was movement, and I stepped closer, my heart starting to hammer. He’d been sitting there the whole time. Watching me. Why was he out of breath?

  I fisted the pool cue in my hand as I approached.

  “Ask me what I did,” he said. And then continued with a loaded tone, “Ask Rory what he did. The underwater wax museum at his parents’ lake house. It was soooo lifelike.”

  A shiver ran up my spine. A wax museum? Lifelike. What the hell did that mean?

  And then I saw him.

  I dropped my gaze, seeing his cock in his hand as he jerked it.

  I sucked in a breath, rearing back.

  He stroked up and down, quicker and quicker, and then I spotted my blue panties.

  They were wrapped around his dick as he masturbated.

  My heart sank into my stomach, and I glared at him as he moaned, his eyes falling closed as my lace rubbed against his skin and the muscles in his arms flexed.

  What the…? I stepped back, sickened.

  “We want to leave,” he told me, “but we’ll never really be free, Emory.” He looked at me again. “You can take him home, but he can never go back.”

  And he zoned in on me, jerking harder and harder. My stomach rolled, but I couldn’t move, completely paralyzed as I watched him.

  Until he begged in a whisper, “Suck on your finger. Deep throat it for me. Suck it hard.”

  I couldn’t make my legs move, and I didn’t notice I wasn’t breathing until my lungs ached.

  I bolted from the room, hearing his deep, dark laughter echo behind me as I ran.

  I wasn’t even sure where I was going until I found myself in the gym, ignoring Micah on the weights as I jumped on the treadmill, starting the machine and running in my bare feet.

  I needed to run. I needed to be too exhausted to care.

  Will gave him my underwear? I gnashed my teeth together, my nausea turning to fury.

  Micah popped up his head, watching me for a moment, but then left the weights and started sparring with the dummy.

  My body cooled with sweat, and I upped the pace faster and faster until I thought I couldn’t keep up just to work off the steam and worry and rage.

  I wasn’t just going to sit here for four weeks.

  I wasn’t going to count on anyone to protect me.

  I may not be able to run, depending on the elements, so I couldn’t count on that as my only option, but I could do something.

  Nine years ago, I decided to sit and wait. Ride it out and then run.

  I wasn’t doing that anymore.

  I hit the emergency Stop button and jumped off the treadmill, panting as I walked over to Micah.

  “Show me some moves?” I asked, breathing hard as I removed my glasses.

  He stopped and straightened, scowling at me. “Why would I do that?”

  “What do you want in return?”

  He grinned, and I arched an eyebrow at him.

  I was pretty sure he didn’t want that.

  “A sandwich,” he said.

  I snorted, not missing the intended insult about a woman’s place.

  But it wasn’t a horrible idea. I’d have an excuse to be in the kitchen with access to the food.

  Even if someone kept an eye on me, I could hoard away something. It might come in handy if I needed to run or hide for an extended period of time.

  “A Philly cheesesteak sandwich?” I clarified, upping the ante.

  It wasn’t kosher, so I couldn’t eat it. It was one of the few rules I followed.

  But I’d make it for them. That kind of sandwich would take longer than ten minutes to cook, giving me plenty of time in the kitchen.

  His face lit up. “Really?”

  I held up fists, widening my stance as my answer.

  He smiled and took up position opposite of me, bidding me to attack. “Let’s do this.”

  • • •

  Two hours later, and I was sweaty and hot but not tired, strangely. I felt energized, and I wiped off my face to cover up my smile.

  Incredible. Stranded for two days with five men—four of them strangers—and you’d think I would feel some danger.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t. I just wasn’t unaccustomed to it. It was familiar.

  I walked toward the door, glancing behind me at Micah and Rory wrestling on the mat. Micah pinned him down, laughing, but one look from Rory, and Micah let his guard down. The skinnier guy grabbed him, flipped him over, and tried to choke him, but they were both laughing as they tried to get a hold of each other.

  I shook my head, continuing out the door. “Have fun, survive…”

  And then I stopped, remembering.

  The Lord of the Flies. A disturbing classic novel and one of the only ones I actually enjoyed in high school because it was so dark and…possible.

  The boys who crash-landed on a deserted island without any adults had three rules. Have fun, survive, and…keep a signal fire going.

  It only took a moment to decide. Shooting off, I glanced around me to make sure I was alone, and headed outside into the driveaway.

  The empty fountain sat in the middle of the circular drive, and I looked overhead, seeing a clear sky for once.

  I wasn’t sure this would last, especially if rain soaked the wood, but I had to try.

  Gathering sticks, branches, and even twigs, I hauled armful after armful to the empty fountain and threw them in, creating a massive pile. I returned to the edges of the driveaway, gathering more, and built the pile higher, so it blazed bright and big, the light hopefully visible in the dark and the smoke visible in the day.

  I ran farther to the tree line, picking up more kindling, and ran back, throwing it in.

  But an arm shot out and grabbed my wrist.

  I jerked my head, seeing Will in his jeans and T-shirt, green eyes void of the boy I remembered.

  I yanked my wrist away and pushed him back. He grabbed my arm, and we both fought, me trying to escape and him trying to stop me.

  “Someone is bound to notice it,” I growled.

  “No one will n
otice it,” he told me, “and you’re mistaken if you think he’s going to let you light that in the first place.”

  Struggling, I pushed him away from me, and he let me go.

  Yeah, I know. It was a long shot, and maybe without Mommy and Daddy’s money, there was no point in them even trying to escape, because if they left here, they could only go home to the very people who sent them here in the first place. They weren’t going to give up their names, hide in Brooklyn, and be pizza delivery boys.

  But I didn’t belong here. I had a job, and I didn’t need anything from anyone.

  “What did you do to get sent here?” I asked him. “I mean, your parents actually sent you here? Aren’t you their favorite or something?”

  He just held my eyes, refusing to answer.

  It had been a while—maybe a year or more. Micah said Rory was the last new arrival seven months ago, and even he had already been home once, only to be sent back.

  What was Will doing with himself? He was going to have the life.

  “You’re twenty-six,” I told him. “What comes after this? Where do you go? Do you suddenly grow up?” I searched his eyes. “If it hasn’t happened by now, it’s not going to. You do you, and I’ll do me.”

  He stepped in, looking down at me. “I hear you’re making dinner,” was all he replied with. “We’re hungry now. Go cook.”

  I flashed a glare. Excuse me?

  I shoved him in the chest, pushing him back.

  I’m not serving you.

  I’m not sitting at your table.

  You can go and screw up your life without a care.

  And also…

  “You gave that sleazebag my underwear,” I said.

  You son of a bitch.

  A grin teased the corners of his mouth, but he simply turned back to me, holding back his smile.

  “But then you didn’t need them, right?” I taunted, calming my voice. “Still have my pink ones from after Homecoming? Have you used them a lot, or did you just lube up with your own tears over the years?”

  He crouched down and got in my face with his eyes on fire. “What makes you think there weren’t lots of hot, wet panties over the years?”

  Spinning around, he left, and I burned a hole in his back as he disappeared into the house.

  Believe me, Will Grayson. I know exactly where you’ve been.

  Emory

  Nine Years Ago

  “They have mac and cheese, burgers, turkey tetrazzini,” Erika Fane told some girl ahead of me in line, “and chicken pot pie today, but I’d recommend the chicken sandwiches. They’re good and spicy.”

  No. They aren’t. The freshmen were the only ones who still hadn’t realized where those cramps in the middle of fifth period were coming from.

  The other blonde who looked like she could be her sister—except Erika Fane didn’t have a sister—just stood there, not looking over the selections that Fane listed off.

  “It all sounds fine,” she replied. “Whatever you recommend.”

  Fane grabbed the chicken sandwich wrapped in foil and brought it to her. The other girl held out both hands, feeling for the item.

  I narrowed my eyes, watching her. Slowly, and keeping her eyes focused ahead, she took the item and set it on her tray herself, albeit a little clumsy.

  Like she couldn’t see.

  Realization dawned. This was Winter Ashby. Bitchy Arion Ashby’s kid sister.

  She was blind, I’d heard.

  Well, hopefully, she was nicer than her sister. When did she start here? I rarely ate lunch and we weren’t in the same classes, so I hadn’t seen her before.

  They moved down the line, but not before an attack of conscience hit me and I plucked the chicken sandwich off her tray, quietly replacing it with a burger without her or Fane noticing. She wouldn’t know who to thank, but that was okay.

  I grabbed a burger and a banana before reaching over and taking a bottle of water, adding it to my tray.

  An arm came around me and took my necktie, threading it through long, beautiful fingers, veins bulging through the back of his hand.

  “Nice tie,” he whispered close to my ear.

  My heart leapt, and I stopped breathing for a moment.

  His breath tickled my hair. “Thank you for wearing it.”

  I couldn’t turn around and look at him because I was sure my face was ten shades of red. He’d put his tie on me after the movies when he’d dropped me at home, and I wasn’t going to wear it, but…

  He’d taken another bad day and made it good. I liked wearing something that reminded me of it.

  He dipped down, slipping his hand around my waist and breathing into my neck.

  “Emmy…”

  Heat covered my body, hearing him say it just like he’d said it when I straddled him in the theater.

  “Please,” I begged, throwing off his hand, “just…go back to your table.” I looked over to their regular seats, seeing Damon watching us while pretty girls loitered around. “Lots there to keep your attention.”

  “That’s not what I want,” he taunted, squeezing my waist again.

  I moved down the line, looking around to see if anyone else was watching us.

  “Don’t worry,” he said letting me go and adding a brownie and chocolate milk to my tray. “All they see is me fucking with you. They’d never suspect—”

  “That you were serious?”

  He grinned to himself and dumped a bag of pretzels and some French fries on my tray. “No, that you like me.”

  He reached around my other side, his cheek on mine as he reached for a pudding and fruit cup.

  He blanketed my back, pressing into me, and my heart beat so fast. I turned my head, feeling his lips close to mine.

  “Please, just…” Go sit down.

  But the words were lost, and I didn’t finish the sentence. Sweat cooled my neck, and I finally clenched my tray, getting a hold of myself.

  “Just go sit down,” I snapped and then blinked, seeing all the shit on my tray. “And stop putting all this food on here! You’re not eating with me.”

  “It’s for you,” he told me, taking out his wallet. “You’re pale. All of that’s kosher, right?”

  I growled, starting to put the food back, but he grabbed my tray and handed the cashier the money.

  “I’m going to need my tie back,” he said. “Tonight.”

  “I can’t,” I told him.

  “You will.” He took his change and handed me the tray. “I’ll pick you up at the end of your block at eleven.”

  “I can’t,” I said, louder this time.

  But he came in closer, looking down at me. “And then I’m taking you to my house. Just us. I want to have a Mission: Impossible marathon with you tonight.”

  A Mission: Impos…? I snorted, despite myself, and quickly looked away, trying to hide my smile. God, he was an idiot.

  I wanted to go, though.

  I stood there, shaking my head absently. “I can’t,” I mouthed.

  Martin would find out.

  My grandmother would need me.

  We had school tomorrow.

  I’d let things happen he’d only make me regret.

  But he came in, taking his tie around my neck and rubbing it between his fingers. “You come to me,” he said, “or I’ll come to you.”

  • • •

  I got an A on that Lolita study packet. Over a week late, and I still got an A. And the best part was, I didn’t even turn it in. I was tempted to.

  I just couldn’t do it, though. Every educational success I would’ve had after would’ve been marred. The rest of my life would’ve been over.

  A fraud. A cheat. A lousy example to my children.

  All because I faked one English assignment. That was how neurotic I was.

  Unfortunately, the long arm of Will Grayson stretched all the way into the teacher’s gradebook and changed my zero to a hundred percent, despite the missing assignment.

  Not very inconspicuous.
I would’ve been fine with a ninety-eight. Safe with a ninety-two, even.

  I’d inform Mr. Townsend tomorrow that the grade was wrong.

  If I didn’t forget.

  I walked across the empty locker room and opened the shower curtain, stepping in and hanging my towel on the hook. Turning on the water, I dipped my already wet head under the spray, my skin breaking out in goosebumps at the feel of the hot water.

  It was only four thirty in the afternoon. I still had hours before I was supposed to meet Will, and even though I’d spent the rest of the day—and my private time sneaking into the pool for a workout afterward—trying to tell myself I wouldn’t care when eleven rolled around, and I’d left him waiting at the end of my block, it hurt inside a little at the idea of blowing him off.

  It shouldn’t hurt, right? I never agreed to go to his house tonight. He never even asked. Just another guy making you feel obligated to show him how grateful you are for his attention.

  I pumped some shampoo into my hand from the dispenser on the wall and washed my hair, trying to hurry. I still had to make dinner, do homework, and I’d promised my grandma we’d watch a movie in her room tonight.

  And I still wanted to get to the gazebo tonight to get some work done.

  Will could come to me. If he found me.

  I rinsed my hair and conditioned, pumping some soap into my hand and scrubbing the pool off my body. But I stopped, feeling the nubs on my legs.

  Maybe I should shave again. I mean, if he found me, I…

  Then I shook my head and stood up straight. For Christ’s sake. Get it together.

  I finished washing and ducked my head under the water again, rinsing the conditioner out of my hair as I stared ahead.

  But then a shadow moved on the other side of the shower curtain, and I froze.

  It stopped, standing there, the dark form looming just outside.

  My heart skipped a beat. Only the emergency lighting remained on since there wasn’t supposed to be anyone staying after school for any sports or band today, so I blinked as if that would clear my vision.

  Shit, I needed my glasses. I could see okay without them, but I was nearsighted.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Who is that?”

 

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