Alamort

26. Priya

Jesus Christ - Brand New

I t crosses my mind that I may have jinxed myself while talking to River. Bringing life to the worst situation I could be in. In a hallway, by myself, with Oscar. A smile lights up his face. Not the smile that gives you butterflies in your stomach. One that sends a cold sweat down my spine.

Halting, I do a 180-degree turn to go the other way. Preferably to a bathroom. Footsteps quicken behind me. His hand wraps around my elbow when I am yanked into the bathroom, pinned against the wall by his forceful grip on my elbow, the icy surface sending goosebumps all over my body. My eyes frantically search for anything near that I could use as a weapon, coming up short in the bare bathroom.

“Not so mouthy now that you’re alone, are you?” His forearm rests above my head while his other traces the buttons from the bottom of my school shirt, up to the top button, before flicking it open.

How do I keep getting myself into these shitty situations? I make to walk away, hoping he’ll let me. That he’s just trying to scare me. He snatches my bun and yanks me toward him, pushing my face against the cream and vanilla wallpaper. A grunt leaves me at the impact.

Using all the leverage I can gather and shove us backwards. Struggling against the smothering smell of bleach, I desperately search for an escape route from this confined room, growing smaller by the second. The movement caught him off guard, giving me the wiggle room to lurch for the small bathroom door.

Back at square one, my hand fails to find the knob, leaving me even more uncomfortable than before. My head slams against the unforgiving wall, sending sharp pulses of pain through my body. His bulky hand clamps onto my arms. The sound of my frenzied breathing fills the room while my cheek meets the rough texture of the wall. His labored breathing fills my senses, the powerful aroma of cigarettes mingling with the stinging odor of bleach in the bathroom.

Struggling to get out of his hold. I move my head and arms at the same time. His hand grips my hair at the roots, slamming me face first into the wall. The impact of hitting the drywall echoes through the room, each thud intensifying the dizziness. I yelp. Darkness distorts my vision.

“Stop fucking fighting me!” He hisses. “You’re going to give it up. My family is going bankrupt. Any money would help. So, you can fight me and make it unpleasant or lie there and take it! Either way, it’s happening.”

My skull feels like it’s going to split open from the constant pounding. The force of his yank causes my shirt buttons to burst open, revealing my bare skin on the wall. Ripping the shirt down to my elbows behind my back, he stops. He’s saying something, but I’m trying to find a happy place away from here. As I remain mute, his rough hands forcefully turn me towards him. A veil of fury clouds his features.

“Who did you let fuck you?” Spit flies from his mouth, hitting me on the cheek.

“Hmm?” His hand is a blur when it connects with my cheek, causing my head to snap to the side. My mouth fills with the unmistakable flavor of blood, leaving a trace of metallic bitterness on my tongue. My father made sure that this was an injury I was familiar with. I suck the blood from my lip.

“The fucking bite mark, bitch. Don’t play stupid.” The bite mark. I slowly throw it around in my head for a moment. Remembering where it came from.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

He shrugs, cruelty lines every feature in his face. “Since there’s no video, mine will work.” His hands grab roughly at my breasts. Throwing my head back into the wall, I stare at the vaulted ceiling. Tears swim in my vision, fighting back the urge to cry. Oscar’s hands roam down my ribcage, into the sides of my pleated skirt. I will not give him the satisfaction of my pain.

I pray.

Please, please Addison. Please don’t let them take this from me, too.

Closing my eyes, his hands drift lower. An agonizing sob leaves my throat.

The bathroom door bangs open, ricocheting off the wall. My eyes stay closed. The invasion on my body stops abruptly, and the hands disappear.

“What’s up, Demonio?” Oscar asks nonchalantly, different from what it was seconds ago. Gone is the rapist asshole, back is the friendly frat guy.

“What are you doing, Bush?” His voice sounds deep and dark. Was it always like that?

“I was about to score that car and the money.” Oscar sounds cocky.

“Yeah? Well, rape wouldn’t count.” Anger rolls off him in waves, taking up the limited space in the room.

“No, we were just having fun. Right, Priya?” I open my eyes, shooting him a venomous glare. He thinks I would cover for his ass? Turning towards the bathroom doorway, I come face to face with Bennett. His white button-up shirt is still intact, unlike mine. The soft fabric drapes over each bulging muscle and curve, hugging his body tightly with every movement. His hair looks like he actually rolled out of bed, unlike the look Oscar was going for.

Humiliation overwhelms me. I can’t imagine what I look like. Weak, pathetic, like some whore who gives it up in the bathroom during class. Hoping my state will convince Bennett that I’m not here willingly, I plead with my eyes. From the top of my head to the heels on my feet, his scrutinizing look burns into my skin. His lips pull down slightly at the corners, showing a faint reaction to my disheveled appearance. His full hazel eyes with long lashes soften at the corners a fraction.

“She must be into some kinky shit.” Bennet says. Oscar’s lips turn up, smiling. I choke on a whimper while the silence looms between them like gas waiting to be lit by a spark. My adrenaline is pounding. I don’t think I’ll survive another round of Oscar.

“Get the fuck out of here, Bush.” He says calmly, like this situation doesn’t bother him. Oscar makes a quick escape, muttering a ‘Thanks’, on the way out without so much as a glance back at me.

Bennett strides over, replacing where Oscar stood moments ago. His frame towers over me by almost a foot. A couple of inches taller than Oscar is. I look up at him, hoping to give the false impression that I’m stronger than I feel. His hand cups my cheek as his thumb pushes on the split lip I’m sporting. Hissing in pain, I pull back.

“Don’t I get a kiss for being your knight in shining armor?” His voice cuts into the silence with a smug smile. Gone is the kindness his eyes held before when they looked over at me from the doorway. I’m shaken by his question.

“How about a swift kick in the balls?” I say bitterly. I was just cornered in a bathroom and almost raped and he wants a kiss? My cheeks flush with fury, my shame temporarily forgotten. Bennett’s hand goes to the nape of my neck, pulling at the hair to angle my face up to him.

“You will give me one kiss. Or I’ll have him finish what he started. Your choice.” His tone tells me he’s unbothered either way. What option do I have? I have lost almost every choice in my life, one way or another. What’s one more?

“You’re a fucking prick.” I whisper. Afraid my voice will shake, showing my fear. His arms encircle me, putting a hand large enough it spans my waist. Then pulls me aggressively towards him, closing the little space we had. He leans down. The smell of fresh mint washes over my face as his breath mingles with mine. His eyes darker than they were before, as he lazily studies my face approvingly before glancing down at my gaping shirt. A mischievous look plays in his eyes. His lips hovering less than a centimeter away from mine. Giving me the illusion that it’s my choice.

Clumsily, leaning forward, pressing my split lip into his. They’re full and softer than I expected someone else’s lips to feel. I’ve never kissed anyone before. I give him the bare minimum, a peck before pulling away. His eyes narrow, shaking his head.

“No princess, I want to feel the hatred you’re not trying hard to hide. I want a real kiss.”

My breath catches at his low, sensual voice sliding across my skin. His hand slides up my neck, stopping at my pulse and squeezing briefly before he cups my jaw, tilting my head up towards him. The action contradicts the hardness in his eyes.

Do it and get it over with. Wetting my lips, I push forward with the last of my courage, crushing my lips to his. His tongue licks the seam to coax them apart. Hesitantly, I part them slightly to allow his tongue to explore. I follow his lead and our tongues intertwine, filling my mouth with the sweetness of mint and the buzz of excitement. His movements become frenzied, taking over the kiss. Hands grip my thighs, lifting my feet off the floor. Automatically, my legs wrap around his waist to keep from falling. Using his body to press me against the wall, my thighs try to squeeze shut to relieve the aching that’s building. Something hard presses into my center. He's hard. For me. A moan escapes me when he rubs it against my pussy, making my panties wet.

Bennett pulls away panting, looking down at his jean clad hard on rubbing against me, “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he growls.

That’s when I start overthinking. He knows I’ve never done this. I don’t know what I’m doing. Does my breath smell bad? Why should I care? This was a deal. Panic seizes me when I realize this is just a game. His game.

Pulling his head toward me by the messy strands, I bite his lip. Hard. He drops me immediately, recoiling. His eyes widen at the sight of blood from his injured lip.

Nodding, satisfaction fills me that we have a similar wound.

“That was your kiss. Take it or leave it.” My arms cross over my chest. He laughs and shakes his head.

“Okay.” He steps out of my way, allowing me to leave the bathroom. Before I make it out the door, he reaches out and softly grabs my elbow.

“Do yourself a favor and don’t go to the dean about this.” Wanting to give him a piece of my mind and tell him where he can put his advice, he cuts me off before I can get a word out. “He’s the dean’s nephew. This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this.” My jaw snaps shut. I nod my head, the message loud and clear. Because of who Oscar’s uncle is, there won’t be any consequence for his behavior. It runs in his family.

In an attempt to shield myself from prying eyes, I pull the torn fabric around my shivering body. There shouldn’t be many people out since everyone is in their first period of the day. My feet rush to carry me to the safety of my room, where I release my pent-up emotions through soft cries and regret. A pity party to wonder why this shit always happens to me. When can I just… be?