Hating You

by Beck, J. L.

  “I’ve been watching you, Willow,” he finally speaks; his tone a little more collected now. “I’ve been watching you since you got to campus. I haven’t seen you in so long. So long, I almost forgot how sweet you smelled.”

  Through the fog of fear, I notice that his voice sounds vaguely familiar to me, something about it tugs at my memory, but I can’t place it. Can’t connect a face to the dark sound of his voice.

  “Who…” I croak, only to have the word cut off by the tightening of his grip once more.

  “I said, shut up!” He growls into my face, his hot breath fanning against my cheeks. He gives me a hard shove against the wall, and my head bounces off of it like a basketball.

  “That’s always been your problem. You just couldn’t shut up. You couldn’t keep your nose in your own business. If you had just kept your mouth shut and stopped the lies from pouring out, we wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be here to make you pay for what you did to my brother.” Like a bucket of cold water raining down on me, I piece the broken puzzle pieces together in my mind.

  “P-Parker?” I say his name in a whisper, praying that I’m wrong. Hoping that I’m wrong.

  “The one and only.” Even wrapped in the darkness of the room, I still know he’s smiling. I can feel it on my skin. My breathing turns erratic in a second, and the panic bubbles up inside me. How did he find me? How did he know I would be here?

  “Please, don’t. I didn’t…” My mouth clamps shut when his fingers grip on to my chin with bruising force, a low whimper the only thing that escapes me.

  “Like a lamb walking into the lion’s den, you practically offered yourself to me by showing up here.” No. Oh, god. I try and shake from his hold, try and break free, but his hands are like shackles, and I’m too afraid to fight him further, afraid that he, too, might hurt me. “Did you think I would show you mercy simply because you have a nice pair of tits and ass?”

  He chuckles, but there isn’t any humor in his words.

  “Please, let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s hard to speak with his fingers digging into my cheeks, but somehow, I get the words out.

  “Oh, sweet, Willow,” he taunts. “You still won’t admit that you lied, and that’s the problem here. No one has taught you a lesson. No one has put the princess in her place, but that’s about to change.” I can feel him moving, his lips press against my throbbing pulse. It’s as tender of a touch as it is terrifying. A low groan fills the room, and the sound zings straight through me, sending rivulets of pleasure into my core.

  No. This is wrong.

  “You know, the worst part is that I thought you were different,” he whispers against my skin. “I thought better of you…but you really showed me, didn’t you? You made me believe in something that could never be. I thought you were a good girl. I was wrong, terribly wrong.” I gasp as his teeth rake across my flesh.

  “I…” Is all I can get out. Even without his hand around my throat, I don’t think I could speak right now. I’m too overwhelmed with emotions.

  “This is your one warning. Stay here, and I will rip you apart, piece by piece. I will take and take until there is nothing left to take, just as you and your sister did to my family. To my brother.” I shake my head without even realizing it. His family is the one who wronged mine. His brother is the one who hurt my sister, who destroyed our lives.

  This can’t be happening right now. This can’t be the way things are going to be. I did the right thing. I know I did, but right in this moment, it feels like all I’ve done is sign my own death certificate.

  There is no peace, no forgetting what happened that night.

  “You have to help me, Willow. You have too.” My sister sobs, her entire body shaking, and all I can do is stand there and watch because I don’t understand. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix what happened.

  “How?” I croak, wanting so badly to take my sister’s pain away. I haven’t felt this broken or lost since Mom died, leaving my sister and me behind to fend for ourselves against our father.

  Ashton looks up at me, her eyes are rimmed red and tears stain her cheeks, “Tell them. Tell everyone. Be my voice, please, Willow. I’m begging you.”

  With a gasp, I’m pulled from the memory and placed back in the present. Parker still has me by the neck, I’m nothing more than his unwilling victim. Acid burns up my throat, and my stomach churns. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “Leave. Never come back. Never show your face here again, and I’ll consider not hurting you.” There is a brief pause, and I wonder what more he could possibly say, but then he clears his throat and starts to speak again, “But stay, and I’ll make sure you wish you’d never met me. From here on out, I’ll be your biggest nightmare. Hope you aren’t afraid of the dark.”

  And just like that, he releases me. Like I’m fire, and he’s gasoline. Like one more touch could push him over the edge. Gasping, I almost fall to the floor, not even realizing how much of his body was holding my own up.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I slide down the wall until my ass meets the floor. When I hear the click of the door opening and then closing, I let out a ragged breath, followed by an uncontrolled sob. I bite my bottom lip, holding in the scream that wants to rip from my throat. How could I have been so stupid?

  He’s here. Tears well in my eyes. Shame. Anger. Pain. It all resides inside of me, swirling around and around. The boy I once knew is here. But he’s not the same. Now he wants to hurt me. Now he wants to destroy me, and if I’m not careful, he’ll do just that.

  I have to escape. I have to leave. But how?

  * * *

  Opening my eyes the next morning, the first thing I do is touch the tender skin around my neck. It’s almost like I can still feel him there, still feel his fingers curled around my throat. Each finger imprinted on my skin. Branding me.

  Sitting up slowly, I realize it’s already bright outside, the sun peeking through the curtains. Checking my phone, I see that it’s past nine. I usually don’t sleep this long, but I barely slept last night, so I’m not too surprised. Matter of fact, I feel like I haven’t slept at all. My muscles ache, my stomach is nothing more than a ball of knots.

  All over again, I’m back to feeling anxious, terrified of what’s to come.

  My gaze flicks to Alice, who is quietly snoring across the room. She’s sleeping soundly, peacefully, and I’m jealous of that because I know it’ll be a long time before I can sleep like that again. For a long time, I just sit there on my bed, trying to figure out what to do. Every thought leads me down a dead-end road.

  My father will not be okay with me leaving, even with Parker here, even with him threatening me. He’ll simply tell me to stand my ground. To grow a backbone. He’ll say I brought this on myself. I know it. But I have to do something. My hands shake, and panic grips on to me, refusing to let go. I don’t feel safe here. I don’t feel anything but anger and fear. Breathing deeply, I tell myself that I can’t just let him break into my room and treat me like this. I have to do something. Anything.

  Trying not to be loud, so I don’t wake Alice, I slip out of the bed and tiptoe into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I flick on the light. While brushing my teeth, I take a closer look in the mirror. I look sickly, my skin is ashen, my eyes lifeless. There are dark circles under them, and as I stare at my reflection, I’m surprised to find no bruises around my neck. I don’t bruise easily, but yesterday, I was sure he’d leave marks. It felt like he was strangling me. Or maybe that was just the fear of it all.

  The memory of him in this room with me makes my skin crawl. When we were kids, Parker was always kind to me. At first, we had only come to know each other in passing, but as time went on and we got older, I started to see him more, at social gatherings, the country club, at meetings between our parents.

  I try not to picture him as that kind boy, but instead as the one who threatened me last night. Those two are very different people, and it’s impossible to
believe that they can live inside the same person.

  Sneaking back into the bedroom, I get dressed as swiftly as I can, before sneaking out quietly. Walking through the dorms, my eyes flicker to every corner, every noise, almost as if I’m expecting Parker to jump out and attack me. He did this to me.

  The walk across campus isn’t much better. My heart is in my throat the entire time, and I’m unable to shake the constant fear looming right beneath my skin, threatening to swallow me whole. Like a lunatic, I look around. I feel like I’m being watched, all eyes on me as I walk into the campus security office.

  God, I hate him. I hate him so much.

  “Hello, Miss, what can we do for you today?” One of the two officers sitting inside the office greets me. He is a pudgy middle-aged guy, his hair graying, but he has a friendly smile, so that eases me a little.

  “Hi, ah… I want to report an incident,” I say, my voice a little unsure. Only in this moment do I realize that I’m going to have to tell them the whole story. Tell them in detail what happened last night. Relive the whole thing.

  A grain of doubt is planted in my gut, spreading quickly like weeds overflowing a garden. Am I ready for this? Ready to do this? Memories of the investigation around my sister resurface. Memories I’ve been trying to forget for so long. How I was interrogated that night. How scared and helpless I felt.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, please come in and have a seat,” the other officer waves me forward. He is younger, maybe early thirties. His hair is cut short, and his face is shaved clean, giving him more of a police officer look than the other guy.

  Walking further into the room, I take a seat at one of the desks. Both of the officers take a seat across from me. I stare down at my trembling hands wishing they would stop.

  “I’m Officer Walden,” the older guy introduces himself, “and this is my partner, Officer Healy,” he points to the younger guy.

  “I’m Willow. Willow Bradford,” I introduce myself.

  “Miss Bradford, can you tell us exactly what happened? Start from the beginning.”

  He flips open a laptop that I hadn’t noticed was sitting on the table and starts typing, though his eyes never waver from mine. At the same time, Officer Healy gets out a notepad and pencil and writes something down.

  I start from the beginning, recounting every last detail. The officers nod and continue taking all my information as I talk. As I speak of the incident inside the bedroom, one of the officers interrupts me.

  “Do you know this person? The man that attacked you?”

  I nod, my throat tightening. Deep down, I’m not sure I have anything to be scared of when it comes to Parker. Yes, he’s vicious, and he terrified me last night, but it was nothing more than a bully tactic. He made threats, but he didn’t actually hurt me. Not like he could’ve. Not like I know he wanted to.

  “Who is he?”

  My lips tremble, “Parker Rothschild.”

  As soon as his name has fallen from my lips, both officers freeze. Officer Healy stops writing mid-word, putting the pencil down on the desk. Officer Walden stops typing, his fingers hovering over the keyboard unmoving. They both glance at each other, some silent conversation happening between them before Healy returns his attention back to me.

  “Are you sure this is who you saw? You said it was dark.”

  “Yes, I’m positive. I know Parker, I’ve known him and his family for years. It was him. I know it was him.”

  “Mhm…” Walden rubs his chin as if he is thinking about how to get rid of me, while his colleague rips the page he has been writing on from his notebook and starts ripping it up.

  What the hell?

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to help you with this, Miss Bradford. You said it yourself, it was dark and no one else was there. Who is to say you didn’t make the whole thing up? You don’t even have any bruises.”

  With my mouth hanging open, I sit there staring at them, dumbfounded. Is this happening, or is this just part of the nightmare? Maybe I’m still asleep, unable to wake up.

  “I think it’s in your best interest if you just forget about the whole thing.”

  I rear back as if he’s slapped me. “In my best interest?”

  “Best for everybody, you included. Don’t make this hard on yourself. Just let it go.”

  Just let it go? What is wrong with these people? I just told them I was attacked in my room, and they tell me to let it go?

  “Now if you would excuse us, we have some work to finish up,” he dismisses me like I’ve been nothing more than wasting his time.

  I want to cry. I want to cry so badly, but I won’t, not here. Rubbing at the corner of my eye to hide the tears, I stare at the two men.

  “You have to help me. Someone has to help me. How am I supposed to be safe at the dorms? How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing he can walk in whenever he wants to? This is wrong, and you both know it.” My voice cracks, and it feels like something inside me does too. Like I’m breaking, fracturing down the middle.

  “We can’t help you. Now, please leave, Miss Bradford,” Officer Healy orders, and for half a second, all I can do is sit there staring hopelessly at the two officers. How is this possible? How can he get away with this? He isn’t god, he doesn’t own this school, but the officers are acting like he does.

  Without another word, I get up and shuffle out of the room, my feet gliding across the floor as I force myself out of the office.

  Fear and disappointment reside deep in my gut, but so does anger. It burns through me, and with clenched fists, I march back to my dorm. I hold on to that anger and let it drive me. If the officers can’t or won’t help me, then I’ll have to find a way to help myself. I’m not my sister. I’m not weak.

  If Parker wants me to leave, he’s going to have to do more than scare me.

  4

  Parker

  Walking into advanced American literature, I peer around the room to see who is here that I know. One sweep of the area and all I find are some girls who look vaguely familiar. They bat their eyelashes, and on autopilot, I smile at them. Not going there.

  Grumbling under my breath, I rake a hand through my black hair and take a seat in the back of the room, hoping none of those chicks decide to get up and follow me. All they’re going to do is get on my nerves, making this already long class, longer.

  Over the course of a few minutes, the room starts to fill, more and more fellow Blackthorn students walk in. Before I know it, the only open seat left is the one next to me. When the professor finally starts talking, thank fuck, the seat remains empty, I sigh, sagging down into my chair.

  Opening my notebook, I grab a pen and prepare myself for a ninety-minute lecture.

  “Everyone open your books and take a look at chapter two, so we can—” The professor is interrupted by the creaking of the door. All heads lift, including my own, to see who the hell is walking in, late for the class.

  “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t find the building,” Willow apologizes, stepping over the threshold and into the classroom. Even across the room, I can feel her. The pull she has on me. It’s magnetic, sinister. Being near her is like sticking my finger into a light socket. It thrills me, excites me, but at the same time is dangerous.

  I wasn’t sure if she’d left after I cornered her in her room. Part of me hoped she would, but the other part… a much larger part hoped she would still be here.

  “I’ll give you a pass since it’s the first day, but don’t let it happen again,” Professor Wade warns. Willow nods as she looks up, and into the crowd, most likely trying to find a seat. Her eyes scan the classroom and land on me half a second later. Even from across the room, I can see her swallow thickly, and I can’t help but grin, amused by the way I make her uncomfortable. Good, fear me. It’s better than the alternative.

  Two crimson splotches appear on her cheeks, and I wonder if it’s because she’s embarrassed or if it’s because she’s realized that she has no choice but to sit beside me.
Is she scared? Curious? I’m half expecting her to turn around and run out of the room, but to my surprise, she does the opposite. She walks to the back of the room with her head held high, a mask sliding on her face.

  Oh, she wants to play that game? I can’t help but grin, can’t help but feel that distinct tingling in my gut, the one I used to get when I’d watch her, when I’d think about kissing her, deflowering her. She was my obsession, and now she would become my retribution.

  Without ever making eye contact, she sits down next to me, gets her textbook out of her oversized designer purse, and opens it up. My jaw ticks as the seconds pass, and the temperature in the room spikes. Jesus, is it fucking hot in here? I can feel her body heat seeping into me, and we aren’t even touching.

  Her sweet scent fills my nostrils as I suck a labored breath into my lungs. She doesn’t smell like all the other girls. Like high designer perfume that clings to every pore on your body. No, Willow smells divine like jasmine and vanilla. Pure. Naive. And all at once, I find the organ between my legs growing hard with need for the one person I shouldn’t want. Teeth grinding together, I grip the pen in my hand hard enough to break it.

  Why her? Why am I drawn to her? Why do I want her? I hate her as much as I want her, and I don’t understand why. She’s a liar, a fucking liar, and she cost my brother everything because she opened her mouth and spread lies. I bite back a growl, covering it with a cough. Professor Wade continues talking, but I don’t hear a word he says. I can’t think, focus, or even breathe with the lying temptress beside me.

  When she shifts in her seat, I start to wonder if she’s as uncomfortable as I am? Tick tock, tick tock. My arousal intertwines with the hate I have for her. A toxic mixture. I’m burning up with anger, and the longer I’m forced to stay within close quarters with her, the harder I get, and the more the hate pulses through me.

  Wade dismisses us after what seems like an eternity in hell. The whole time I was sitting here, I thought I couldn’t get away fast enough, but now that class is over, I don’t want to leave. I want to see her scared again, wrap my fingers around her throat, feel her pulse beneath my touch. I want to hurt her.