Chapter 21
Wren
“Isn’t this stupid?” Letting out a shaky laugh, I finish going through the dresser drawers to make sure nothing is left behind. “It’s not like I ever really liked living here, but I’m sort of sad to leave.”
“Then don’t leave.” Maya zips up the suitcase she loaned me to help with the move. I brought everything here in trash bags and don’t want to show up at the dorm the same way. People already think I’m enough of a joke.
“I really don’t have a choice.” I hate the way that sounds, but it’s true.
And it’s a waste of time for me to think otherwise.
Every time I tell myself I’m going to get out of this somehow, or that Briggs can’t possibly want anything else to do with me, he finds a way to prove me wrong.
All I am doing is breaking my heart. He’s already determined enough to do that for me. I don’t need to help him.
“This is all wrong,” she insists. “What aren’t you telling me? You know you can talk to me, right? You can trust me, no matter what it is.”
“I know. It’s not easy to talk about.” When she won’t stop staring at me with all sorts of expectations, I confess, “It’s Briggs. He’s behind all of it. This is his idea.”
“What? I thought you told me everything. All about what he’s doing to you, how cruel he is. I get it,” she adds in a dark tone that is so unlike her usual bright, sunny voice. “I know what those guys are like. But why would he force you to do something like this?”
I’m so weary all of a sudden. Maybe I have been all this time, but I’ve been forcing myself to ignore it.
Her questions are innocent and friendly, but they have the power to break down some of the resolve I’ve built up around myself.
I sink to the bed, now stripped and bare, resting my hands in my lap with a defeated sigh.
“He wants me there so he can do whatever he wants to me, whenever he wants to.”
“What are you talking about? What haven’t you told me?” There’s fear in her voice, and I hate to hear it. She sits next to me, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears with trembling hands. “You can tell me.”
So I do. What’s the point of pride? Secrets don’t help anybody, anyway.
I tell her everything. The things he forces me to do. What happened at the party. In the classroom, with his asshole friends, all the humiliation, all the fear, it all comes out of me at once. On one hand, it sort of feels good to open up.
On the other, I feel like shit when I see how horrified Maya is by the time I’m finished. Her face is pale when she asks, “How have you been going through this without… I don’t know, totally losing your shit?”
“I don’t know.” Staring down at my folded hands, I whisper, “So long as you don’t think I’m, you know. Not worth being friends with because of this.”
“I would never think that!” She throws her arms around me in a tight hug. “Not ever, so don’t even think that. I won’t accept it.”
“Okay.” I pull myself together once she lets me go, rolling my shoulders back, taking a deep breath and blowing it out all at once. “Well, now you know.”
“You don’t have to accept this.”
I almost want to laugh, but I stop myself because I know how it feels to be laughed at.
Even though I wouldn’t mean it in that way, it could come off all wrong.
She’s the last person who would ever deserve that.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” I remind her instead.
“Every time I tell myself I have some control over my life, he finds a way to prove me wrong.”
“There has to be something. I refuse to believe there’s nothing you can do.” She jumps to her feet, biting her thumbnail as she starts to pace. “What if you change the locks on the door to the room?”
“I don’t think I can do that. It’s not really my property, right? I would have to clear it with the administration, at least, and I really doubt they would be cool with the idea.”
“You’re right.” She continues pacing and muttering to herself before snapping her fingers. “Fine. Then we just install another lock on the door. Like a deadbolt. It’s not that hard,” she insists when my mouth falls open. “I’ve seen my dad do it, and he is not what you’d call a handy sort of guy.”
This time, I have to laugh at the bizarre idea. “I’ve never used a power tool in my life, and I’m pretty sure you need them to do something like that.”
“Which is why YouTube videos exist,” she counters. “You can learn anything on the Internet. We’ll buy some tools, we’ll buy the lock, and we’ll install it on the door ourselves.”
The next thing I know, we’re at the hardware store, with all of my belongings in the back of my car while Maya and I walk up and down the aisles, looking for the items listed in the tutorial she found.
“I’ve never bought tools before,” I muse, looking around, a little overwhelmed by all the choices.
Who knew there were so many types of screwdrivers?
“Me, neither. There’s a first time for everything, right?
” I swear, the girl is unshakable. Determined, too, almost marching from aisle to aisle, asking employees where she can find this or that.
I’m fine with hanging back and letting her take the reins.
She’s someone I trust, and I’m so tired of having to be on guard all the time. It’s exhausting.
Almost as exhausting as unloading the car and unpacking the suitcase and boxes once we arrive in my dorm room.
Unpacking what was left of my things doesn’t take long—for once, I’m glad I don’t have very much.
Soon we are standing in front of the door, playing and replaying the video, giving step-by-step instructions on how to install a deadbolt.
It’s confusing at first, but soon we get the hang of it, using a drill to make a new hole, installing the face plate, screwing the deadbolt on.
At least it’s quiet on the floor. There aren’t many people hanging around to give us any shit over this.
Right now, I’m not sure I would care if anyone did.
By the time we’re finished, we’re both a little sweaty and there’s sawdust all over the place. But we did it. The lock works and, for the first time in a while, I feel secure. “Let’s see you get a key for this lock, you dick,” I mutter to myself as we clean up.
“I’ve really got to go,” Maya confesses once everything’s back in place. “Are you sure you feel safe here by yourself?”
“A lot better than I did before we decided to learn how to drill a hole in a door.” I give her an impulsive hug, which she returns. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“No sweat. Give me a call later, when you’re settled in.” I promise her I will before closing the door and flipping the deadbolt into place. It feels good. I like the sound. I have a little bit of control again.
It doesn’t take long to finish unpacking. I can see myself working in here, especially since living with Buck got me used to all kinds of noise at random times. The noise from a bunch of college students can’t be worse than that.
I wish I could take a shower without remembering what Briggs did to me in here the last time we were together in this room. It’s so easy to forget everything I know when he does things to my body I never dreamed possible. It’s like I can’t think while he’s touching me.
The shame is the worst part. It’s the kind of shame I can’t wash away, no matter how much soap I use.
At least I’m no longer covered in sawdust by the time I step out and dry off, pulling on a pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt. Almost like a normal college student. I have to laugh bitterly at the idea of Briggs, of all people, introducing me to the so-called college experience.
One thing about having shorter hair: it dries a lot quicker than it used to.
It still isn’t easy for me to look at myself in the mirror and see the blunt cut.
Now that I’m living here and not paying rent anymore, maybe I can afford to get it fixed up at a salon.
At least it’s all the same length now after I snipped off the uneven bits, but there’s no shape to it, no layers or anything like that.
I do my best with a round brush and the blow dryer before giving up and flopping down on the bed.
A sudden knock against the door breaks the sense of peace. “Yo, what the fuck?” The doorknob jiggles like somebody’s trying to force a key to turn. Only it already has. It just hasn’t unlocked the door, is all. “Wren? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I should ignore him. Let him think I’m not here. It’s the smartest thing to do—the less I engage with him, the less damage he can do to my life. Spending the day with Maya really helped me feel more in control. I don’t need to let him do this to me.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself as he starts pounding on the door hard enough to make the mirror hanging on my side rattle. “Wren? I know you’re in there! Open this fucking door.”
I have to bite my lip to keep myself quiet. He can’t be sure I’m here. He’s totally bluffing.
“This is your last warning.” God, he sounds like an animal, huffing and puffing. Like the big, bad wolf, ready to blow the door down. “Open this fucking door right now, or I kick it in. Your choice, little bird. What’s it gonna be?”
He’s bluffing. Isn’t he? He wouldn’t really do that.
Shouldn’t I know better by now?
The first kick makes me yelp in surprise.
“I knew it,” he growls from the other side of the door.
“I knew you were in there. You can’t hide from me.
I know everything about you. I know exactly where to find you, because you belong to me.
When are you going to figure that out?” Another kick.
Another one. He’s going to break the door. And then what? How do I explain this?
I can’t believe he’s making me do it. Getting up off the bed, I go to the door and flip the lock. Giving him access to me again.
The door flies open, and he storms in, his face red, his teeth clenched the way his fists are.
“Why do you do things like this? Why do you waste your time trying to keep me away from you?” He advances on me, breathing hard, and there’s nothing for me to do but back away until I fall onto the bed.
He looms over me, his eyes wide and wild and, for a second, I’m sure this is it. He’s going to kill me this time.
One thing is obvious: he’s sober. He doesn’t get this mad when he’s high. “I just want a little privacy,” I explain. My voice is strangely calm and reasonable.
“I’m the one who decides if you deserve privacy,” he fires back. “Say it. Say the words.”
I won’t. I can’t. I can’t let him take that from me. He’s already taken so much. My pride, my dignity. My virginity. None of which I gave him permission to take.
When I don’t fall in line, he growls, taking another step until he’s a second away from falling on top of me. All I can do is brace myself for whatever is coming.
“Let’s go.” He’s like two different people, totally changing the conversation in the blink of an eye. He grabs me by the wrist and hauls me to my feet. “Put on some shoes. Or you can go barefoot, for all I care.”
“Go where? I’m not going anywhere with you. I have—”
“Did I ask for your opinion? We’re going out. To a party.”
To a party? With me? A disbelieving laugh falls out of my mouth, but he doesn’t react except to narrow his eyes. “Let’s go,” he grunts. “I’m going to count to five, and then I’m pulling you out with me. One.” He folds his arms, smirking. “Two.”
He means it. And I really don’t feel like going out in bare feet. There’s a pair of canvas flats next to the bed, which I quickly shove my feet into before grabbing my purse. “Three,” he continues.
“Okay, okay,” I grumble, running my hands through my hair. “But why would you want to go out with me? What do you really want?”
Something wicked passes over his face and his eyes light up in a way that chills me to my core. “You’ll see.” He takes my wrist again, dragging me out of the room. I barely have time to close the door behind me before he’s pulling me down the hall.
What does he have up his sleeve now? And how much is he going to make me regret ever setting eyes on him?