Tame Me (The Meridian Institute #1)

Prologue

Today is my last day of school before I start my doctorate program, with a goal of obtaining a doctorate in psychology.

Part of me wants to work with kids, but I also want to work with criminals.

I find it fascinating to think about why people do what they do.

Why do people kill? Why do they rape? What goes through their heads, and were they born that way?

Professor Chavez promised to write me a letter of recommendation for the internship program I want to do next year, so I have to go by his office before grabbing the rest of my belongings from my dorm room.

I can’t wait for my summer trip, so I want to hurry and finish this bullshit so I can get on the road to Florida.

As I walk through the campus, I feel a sense of relief that I finished this year.

My piece of shit father finally drank himself to death a few months ago, so I had to plan a funeral for a man I loathe.

I try not to hate people, but I’m nearly giddy that the bastard is rotting in hell.

I’m even the reason he’s dead, and that makes me happier.

Dad blamed me for my mom’s death, like somehow I had a choice in the matter that she didn’t make it through bringing me into this world.

He always beat me, but when he was drunk, I reminded him too much of his late wife.

He missed her so much that he just couldn't help but fuck his daughter and call her by her dead mother’s name.

That didn’t start until I grew tits at thirteen.

I lightly knock on the professor’s door, not wanting to be too loud if he’s busy. “Come in,” he grunts.

I slowly open the door, and the professor looks up at me from his desk. “Ayla,” he says, smiling.

“Hey, Professor Chavez,” I say sweetly. “I just wanted to stop by and get that letter from you.”

“Letter?” he asks as if he is confused. “Oh, right. I’ll get it printed. Come in and shut the door.”

I walk in and push the door shut behind me.

I pull my dress down a bit before sitting across from his desk, setting my bag in the seat beside me.

I watch as he types on his computer for a second, glancing over at me occasionally.

His eyes scan my body, and it makes me feel weird.

He always does this, but I can’t make a big deal about it, or he won’t give me the letter.

I have heard that you just have to deal with him being creepy, or he won’t help.

“Alright,” Professor Chavez says, hitting a key on his keyboard before standing. As he walks over to the printer by the door, I stand.

“Thank you so much for this, Professor,” I say.

“Hey, even the pretty ones need help, but it comes at a price,” he says coolly. “So… Do you want to get on your knees or bend over?”

“What the fuck did you say?” I ask. “Absolutely not. What’s wrong with you?”

“You think help is free?” he laughs. “Ayla, welcome to the real world, baby.”

I scoff before turning to grab my bag. This requires me to lean over a bit, and the professor promptly shoves me forward and yanks my dress up.

“Stop!” I shout and try to sit up again. “Get off me!”

“Stop moving,” he growls and shoves my face into the seat. I try to move by twisting my body to the side, but his thighs have mine pinned against the side of the seat. He shoves me forward a bit more, and I lose all leverage as he forces my legs apart.

“Stop! Please don’t!” I scream through a sob, muffled by the cushion. He ignores my protests as he grabs hold of my panties and yanks them to the side, almost ripping them off completely.

“Let’s see if fat pussy feels the same,” he grunts before grabbing my hips and forcing himself into my vagina.

One second, I’m trying to free myself, but then I just… stop. My body instantly freezes. I’m internally screaming at myself to fight, to scream, to do anything. Instead, my body goes limp as he rams into me over and over.

Flashes of memories stab through my consciousness, and reality flickers to the night my father died.

“Dad, stop!” I yell as I back away. All I wanted to do was make sure he was alive. I don’t know why I cared, but I felt obligated to care. He hadn’t called in days when he usually bugs the shit out of me daily.

I accidentally back myself against the arm of the couch, shrieking when he shoves me.

He is out of breath but still managed to get on top of me and pull my skirt up.

He’s done this a million times, so it’s like muscle memory to know exactly how to get inside of me, no matter which way I fight him.

I always fought, and even though I always lost, it still tired him out, and he didn’t last as long.

“Fuuuck,” he groans as he shoves inside of me. “I’ve missed this pussy, Ally. God, you’re tight.”

“Daddy, please!” I cry, trying to shove him off me. He grabs my wrists and pulls them above my head, but his grip is weak. This allows me to pull my arms free and slam my fists against his chest as he rams into me.

“Oh, Ally,” Dad grunts.

“It’s Ayla. Please stop. Stop. Daddy, please stop, you’re hurting me!” I sob as I hit him.

Dad sits up enough to look at me, and for the first time since he started raping me, his eyes meet mine.

“Oh fuck… Ayla,” he grunts as he thrusts in one final time.

He’s realized, but he’s already coming. I’m sobbing as my body shakes from the build-up of unwanted pressure.

He’s unmoving, but still inside of me. My eyes are blurry from the tears, but I can make out that Dad is holding his chest. Before I can push him back, he slumps forward across me, pinning me to the couch.

My limp body rocks against the chair as the professor groans. He’s smacked my ass about a half dozen times, but I don’t react as the memories flash through my mind. The professor’s groans get louder as his pace falters. I can feel it as he finally gets himself off, but then pulls out of my body.

“Have a good summer, Ayla,” the professor chuckles, zipping his pants.

He tosses the letter on top of my bag before walking out of his office.

I don’t move for a moment. It takes me a second to gather myself and stand up.

I’m so numb that all I can manage to do is grab my bag and walk out of the office.

I don’t bother cleaning myself or hiding what happened.

I’m not aware of a single person around me as I walk across campus and return to my dorm room with my clothes still pushed up in places they shouldn’t be and the evidence of his attack all over my thighs.

I somehow manage to get into my room without being stopped.

I go to my bathroom and climb into the tub with my makeup bag.

Part of me knows this is it, but I don’t care to find my way out of this dark place.

I’m done trying to swim when the current has always been too strong.

I can’t find my way out of these rapids, so I give up.

As I bring the blade out of its hiding spot, I say goodbye to myself, because that’s all I have in this world.

I can feel the professor’s come leaking out of me, and I refuse to ever feel this way again.

I will never have to take care of myself again after an assault I don’t deserve.

I hiss as I dig the blade into my wrist, but then relax as I drag it through my flesh toward my elbow.

My breathing quickens into bursts, gasping for air, as the crimson liquid pours from my arm, and I drop the razor to the shower floor.

As my eyes begin to flutter and my body weakens, I lay my head back and steady my breathing as a calmness overtakes my body.

This is it. This is the peace I’ve been searching for, and I’ve found it buried deep within my flesh.