11. Ava
CHAPTER 11
AVA
I push through the doors to exit the library, stumbling over my feet as I cling to the straps of my backpack like a lifeline and drag in greedy gulps of fresh air. My lungs burn from the effort, the sting of tears prickling behind my eyes.
I can’t do this.
I thought if I just came to the library to study, pretended that I was a normal student and this was a normal morning, I might be able to forget what happened last night. But then I saw Wes, and the memories of what he did to me in the loft came screaming back in full force.
Students are milling about the campus paths, carrying coffees and chatting with one another, going about their day like there aren’t predators lurking in their midst. I want to scream at them, warn them about these so-called ‘Kings’ that they all seem to worship. But they already know, don’t they? Richelle tried to warn me the Kings were dangerous. I just refused to believe it.
I stand there frozen in front of the library doors, hyperventilating. I’m on the verge of a damn panic attack. Suddenly, it feels like everyone’s looking this way, smirking and snickering. They all saw Wes parade me up the stairs to the loft last night. They know.
The blur of tears obscures my vision as I lunge forward, taking off down the sidewalk. There’s a fork in the path ahead, but are the dorms to the left or the right? In my frantic state, I’m suddenly all turned around. Everything about this place is unfamiliar and I’ve got nobody to talk to, no safe place to land.
‘I think the little slut wants some cock now, don’t you?’
Bile crawls up my throat as Raf’s words from last night resurface in my brain, a tremor running through me as I recall the threatening edge to his voice when he uttered them. I swear I can still feel the ghost of his fingers inside me, poking and prodding, violating me like some nameless, faceless doll for his own sick enjoyment.
‘Well shit, little slut’s telling the truth.’
I think I’m going to throw up.
I slam to an abrupt stop, folding over at the waist and pressing my hands to my knees, retching. I haven’t eaten anything this morning, though, so nothing comes up– just the bitter taste of my own shame. Tears track down my cheeks as I straighten, only to see that people are now definitely staring.
I have to get out of here.
Surging forward, I keep my eyes pinned on the pavement as I speedwalk down the path. My wrists burn at the memory of Ford’s tattooed hands wrapped around them, holding me down. My mouth tingles at the thought of Wes’ throbbing cock on my tongue. I brushed my teeth until my gums bled both last night and this morning, but it still wasn’t enough to forget the way he tasted when he spilled down my throat or forget how he held my chin as Raf ordered me to swallow.
‘Good girl.’
But I’m not a good girl, not anymore. Because those monsters violated me, took from me without asking, and some twisted part of me must’ve enjoyed it. Why else would my body have reacted the way it did, coming on Wes’ tongue, on Ford’s hand?
I veer off the path, ducking between a pair of buildings and slamming my back against the side of one. The rough stone scrapes my shoulders as I sag against it, pressing a hand to my chest in an effort to calm my racing heart.
I didn’t want it. No matter how my body reacted, I didn’t ask for those boys to corner me and use it for their twisted games. I wasn’t a willing participant in what they did last night up in that loft.
Lowering my backpack from my shoulders, I stoop to unzip it and reach inside for my phone. With shaking hands, I pull up my mom’s contact and hit dial for what feels like the hundredth time. Pressing it to my ear, I listen to it ring once before going to voicemail.
I love my mom, but I’ve never wanted to be like her. I promised myself that I’d be different; that I’d break the cycle and carve out my own future rather than spending my life on my back. Corvus College was supposed to be my way to make that happen, but here I am just two days in, and any plans I had to take control of my own destiny are already falling apart.
Lowering the phone from my ear, I mash the end call button, then try again. Isn’t this the definition of insanity, trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? My shoulders slump in defeat when I get Mom’s voicemail again, not even able to leave her a message since it’s full.
A sob tears from my throat as I hang up, dropping my phone into the open backpack at my feet. Mom acted like she was doing me a favor by sending me to school here, when in reality, it was just a ruse for her to abandon me. Gideon has always been her priority. How many times did she drop me like a bad habit when he came calling? I always gave her the benefit of the doubt, believing that she tried her best when it came to being a parent, but I can’t deny the obvious. She’s only there for me when it’s convenient for her. And right now, when I need her most, she’s off galivanting with her new husband somewhere abroad, ignoring my desperate calls.
I’m all alone.
The reality of that settles over me like a dark cloud, my stomach sinking like a stone. I press my eyes closed and dig the heels of my hands into the sockets, willing myself to pull it together.
Maybe it really was my fault, after all. Wes’ attention made me feel special; made me feel truly seen for the first time. I was so desperate to chase that feeling that I ignored all the red flags waving in my face. It’s pathetic how easily I fell into his trap.
Even so, why did the other guys swoop in like they did to participate in my humiliation? What’d I ever do to them to warrant such vile treatment? I never met Ford before last night, but Raf and I were friendly when we were kids. Gideon said his son would look out for me here at Corvus College. I thought he’d take care of me.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Damn, you look even worse than I do this morning,” a male voice chuckles, and I whip my head around in alarm to see a guy leaning against the wall of the opposite building a few paces away, pinching a joint between his fingers and sparking up a lighter.
He’s tall and lean, his eyes bloodshot and his scraggly blonde hair a mess atop his head. He lifts the joint to his lips, cheeks hollowing out as he takes a long puff, then blows the smoke out in a gray cloud. Pushing off from the building, he takes a step in my direction, holding it out to me. “This’ll help the hangover.”
“Stay away from me,” I snap, flinching away like a wounded animal.
The corner of his lips curl up in a smirk. “No offense, sweetheart, but unless you’re hiding a dick under that skirt, you’re not my type,” he drawls, taking another puff.
I quickly assess him, taking in the tight fit of his skinny jeans on his scrawny legs, his form-fitting black tee, and the rainbow band tattooed around his bicep, peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
“C’mon, I swear I won’t bite,” he coaxes, puffing out another cloud of smoke and offering the joint to me again. “I’m Bryce, by the way. You must be new around here. I remember my first party at the boathouse, I could barely crawl out of bed the rest of the weekend.”
Though I’ve recently learned a hard lesson about wolves in sheep’s clothing, there’s something playful about him that’s oddly comforting, especially given my fragile state. Deciding he’s not an immediate threat, I let my guard down and take a hesitant step in his direction.
“Ava,” I rasp.
He smiles, flashing two rows of perfectly straight white teeth as twin dimples sink into his cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Ava. Now, do you want some of this, or what? It’s the good shit, straight from Toronto.” Bryce extends his arm, offering me the joint again as a wisp of smoke curls up from the tip.
I’ve never done drugs, but suddenly, I can’t think of a better time to start. Shoring up my courage to put one foot in front of the other, I approach him and take the joint from his fingers, bringing it to my lips. I suck in a deep inhale, the skunky taste of marijuana coating the inside of my mouth. As soon as the smoke hits my lungs, they seize up, sending me into a coughing fit.
Bryce claps me on the back, plucking the joint from my hand and laughing as I sputter to catch my breath. “Easy, killer. I told ya it was the good stuff.”
My eyes water, throat burning, but I finally manage to stop coughing, my brain going a little fuzzy as I swallow hard to coat my windpipe.
“You a transfer?” Bryce asks, relaxing back against the building again as he takes another toke.
“Yup,” I reply, popping the P.
He nods. “Cool.”
“You’re not gonna ask me where I transferred from?”
He shrugs a shoulder casually, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “What difference does it make? You’re here now.”
I smile softly, nodding. I like that he’s not prying, unlike everyone else I’ve encountered on campus thus far. Every time I’ve had to utter the words ‘community college’, I get looked at like I’m some sort of charity case.
“You want another hit?” he asks, offering me the smoldering roach of the joint.
I shake my head, showing him my palms. “I’m good.” My head’s already swimming, a warm buzz settling in my veins. My muscles feel more relaxed, my errant thoughts calming.
So this must be what all the fuss is about when it comes to weed. Too bad I didn’t meet Bryce before entering the library this morning.
He finishes off the joint, tossing the roach on the ground and stubbing it out with the toe of his sneaker. “I’m gonna go bake in the sun for a while, try to fight this hangover with some vitamin D,” he says, raking a hand through his unkempt hair. A platinum strand flops down over his forehead, catching in his eyelashes. “Wanna come?”
“Where?”
He points up, and I furrow my brow in confusion, looking around. Then my eyes snag on an old metal fire escape attached to the side of the building, the rusty rungs of the ladder looking a little worse for the wear, and I glance back at him with a brow raised in question.
He nods, grinning.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I mumble, chewing my lower lip nervously.
The last time I went upstairs with a boy didn’t end well.
“I promise I don’t bite,” Bryce chuckles, kicking off from the wall and striding toward the fire escape. “Unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case…” he trails off, shaking his head. “Nah, still won’t happen. I’m strictly dickly. Doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, though. You look like you could use one.”
“Am I that obvious?” I ask with a wince.
He pauses with his hands resting on the rung of the ladder, flashing me a smile. “Nah, girls are hiding between buildings crying all over this campus.”
“You saw that?” I croak, completely mortified.
He just shrugs. “Hey, it’s none of my business.” Gripping onto the ladder, he pulls his body up, starting to ascend. “You coming?” he calls back to me as he climbs.
I should probably know better, but what Bryce said is true– I could use a friend. And right now, he seems like my best option. Emboldened by my high, I spin around and walk over to collect my backpack, hauling it up onto my shoulders and turning back for the ladder.
“Okay,” I agree, looking up at him as I approach. “But I’m warning you, I’ve had a really shitty day, so if you’re enticing me up there just to try to pull something, I won’t hesitate to throw you off the roof.”
Bryce barks out a laugh, not pausing his climb. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Reaching forward, I grip onto the metal rung, blowing out a slow breath as I pull myself up.
Here goes nothing.