Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
Once he recovers enough to regain his strength, he pulls my shorts back up to cover my ass. I can still feel his cum on my panties, pressed against my skin.
Horror swells up inside me, my muscles shaking as I crawl forward and climb off the couch. I can’t look at him as I stumble. He reaches out to grab me on instinct so I don’t fall, but I swat his hand away and dart around him.
I don’t know what to feel as I race up the stairs and make my way to my room. I close the door behind me and press my back against it, then I slide down until I’m hugging my knees to my chest.
My mind is blessedly blank. I can feel chaos beneath the blanket of blackness covering everything, but I don’t have the energy to deal with it right now.
I’m drained.
Defeated.
I thought I had arranged for safety tonight, but then I let him lure me right out of it.
When my muscles stop shaking, I push up off the floor. I have to get out of this soiled clothing. Before I climb into my bed, I need to clean him off me, too.
I check to make sure Hannah is sleeping, then I walk softly into my bathroom. I turn on the shower, and robotically, I undress.
I stand and look at myself in the mirror completely naked. The same pale, freckled complexion looks back at me.
But I feel different.
I try to shake it off, tell myself I’ll feel better in the morning. I just need a shower and some sleep.
I’ll be fine.
I step under the hot spray. Normally, my brain works overtime when I’m showering, but tonight it has enough compassion to be quiet.
When I’ve run out all the hot water and scrubbed my skin until it’s red and blotchy, I finally get out.
I pull on a long-sleeved shirt and pants because despite the hot shower, my body feels cold.
Finally, I climb into bed, careful not to wake Hannah.
I imagine her waking up and noticing I changed clothes. I imagine having to tell her what just happened, but I don’t even know how I would explain it.
I know what her face would look like. I know what her hug would feel like when she wrapped her arms around me protectively. I can even guess what the tears she might shed for me would feel like when they inevitably dropped off her face and hit my skin.
And I know this time, if I still wouldn’t tell my mom, there’s a good chance she would.
Hannah is an amazing friend. Because of that, if she knew the line Landon just crossed, she might feel compelled to intervene on my behalf.
She hasn’t before because I assured her I could handle it, and she believed me.
But it does not feel like I just handled anything.
I was handled.
By a fucking meathead jock who couldn’t think his way out of a paper bag.
It’s perhaps the meanest thought I’ve ever had about Landon, but as the shock is wearing off, anger is setting in.
He had no fucking right.
I know the anger will only keep me awake and what I desperately want to do is sleep, so for now, I try to shelf it. I think of the beach, the waves hitting the shore. I think of the pool, and the peaceful contentment I feel when I’m floating in it with my eyes closed and my arms spread in the rare moment I don’t have to worry about Landon.
My recaptured peace wavers when the thought of him creeps in, but I shut it down. I achieved peace, and he’s not going to ruin it.
My muscles have relaxed, and my body feels heavy.
Tomorrow feels daunting, so I remind myself it won’t be. Hannah’s here, and tomorrow she’ll be awake. He won’t be able to get me alone (if he even tries to), and as long as I commit to that course and stop letting him get me alone… we can keep living here.
It’s not a comfortable thought. I want that less now than I have at any other point.
Unfortunately, nothing else has changed.
I feel my peace beginning to slip away, so I tamp down all my thoughts and picture the beach again.
Tomorrow I can regroup and make a better plan going forward.
Tonight, I need to sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Parker
When I roll out of bed the following morning, I seem to have aged 64 years.
I’m hunched over like a wart-faced Disney villain and I can’t seem to straighten up.
Fantastic.
Annoyance thickens around my heart when I make my way to the bathroom and, even after peeing and washing my hands, I can’t straighten to my appropriate height.
I planned to get dressed before I went downstairs on the off chance that Hannah didn’t notice I’d changed clothes in the middle of the night. She’s not in my bed, so I’m guessing she went downstairs. But with my back like this, I’m not sure I can.