Empathy (3 page)

The heat from my blush sets fire to my skin. “I’m free Sunday if that works for you?” I tell him, packing my iPad into my bag. I drag my eyes from his, getting to my feet.

He pulls out his cell and hands it to me. “Add your number.”

I try to ignore the provocative picture of a woman naked and bound on her knees that is his screen saver but the image is graphic and not really something I expect to see as someone’s screensaver that they willing hand over for people to add their numbers too. Regardless I choose not to judge him for his choice of image, and add my number before slipping his phone back to him.

I make my away from the class room without looking back, even though I’m dying to know if he’s watching me.

The fresh summer air breezes over me, caressing my skin. The scent of fresh cut grass fires my senses, and memories flash of summers back home when I was a kid. My eyes are trained on my phone, sending a quick text to my mom to let her know I’m leaving soon and should be home by midnight, when I collide with a steel pillar, knocking me backwards to the ground. My bag drops from my shoulder and my phone flies in the direction of the bushes. I look up into the penetrating gaze of the steel pillar, who happens to be a guy. I can’t really make him out with the sun behind him but his brow furrows as he glares at me, telling me that colliding with him and me falling on
my
ass has inconvenienced him somehow.

He steps around me muttering,
“idiot
”, and not subtly. I don’t know what possesses me but I jump to my feet, raising and swinging my bag as I do. I lash it right at him, hitting his retreating body with a thud. He turns fast, grabbing the bag and yanking it forward with me still attached to the handle. I fly towards him, crashing full force into his chest and crumbling to the floor onto my already sore ass.

I glare up at the tank. “What is your problem you…you…” My brain abandons me as I stutter, sounding as if I don’t have the IQ to even be in college. “Fucking dick.” I grimace at my total lack of maturity, wittiness and language. I’m not one to swear.
Fucking dick,
I repeat in my head, chastising myself.

“My problem is you running into me then attacking me with your bitch purse that weighs a freaking ton. Then throwing yourself at me and falling at my feet talking about fucking my dick.”

I exhale the breath I sucked in at his description of what happened. “You must have malfunctioned when I bumped into you because you’re clearly delusional. Oh, and don’t offer to help me up or anything,” I grumble, getting to my feet.

“I wasn’t going to. You’re clumsy and weak. You need to strengthen your body and look where you’re going.”

I flinch from his clear distaste for me, my mouth dropping open. I can’t believe he said that. He doesn’t give me time to formulate a witty comeback, he just walks away, leaving me seething. Damn, he is built. Anyone would fall on their ass running into that brick wall. The muscles in his back pull his t-shirt tight, showcasing them, and he has a firm ass.
Shit!
I reprimand myself.
He does not have a nice ass. He’s a total jerk
.

I scramble for my phone and manage to make it to my car without any more incidents. She’s a sleek BMW 4 series convertible; very
rich girl
but my father insisted I have it. He wanted me to have a new car when I started college so I wouldn’t have to get rides from guys, or become stranded if I needed to come home. He hated the idea of me going to college so far away but after I went traveling with Zane, he accepted it. I’m his baby, his only daughter. I have a half-brother but he’s never lived with us. He arrived before my mom stole my father’s heart, and apparently, someone else’s husband. I never knew this until I met my half-brother when I was eleven and he informed me my mom is a husband-thieving whore. My relationship with him has always been strained, so I ignore him for the most part. I’m not looking forward to this family meeting tomorrow knowing he’ll be there.

I pull open my car door and smile at the two girls beaming at me as they walk past. I haven’t really made any friends since I got here so it’s nice to have a friendly smile in passing.

MY FIRST THREE HOURS ON the road pass in a haze of headlights and blurry scenery, my mind replaying my day. The fact Ryan actually spoke, and then the stranger who had no manners or people skills.
Who knocks someone on their ass and doesn’t offer to help them up?

I crank the radio louder as Paramore’s
Now
fills the car, and refuse to think about the douche anymore. The fuel gauge catches my eye as I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, humming along before bursting out and hollering the lyrics, drowning out the smooth crooning from the speakers. The gauge blinks at me, forcing me to indicate when I spot a gas station.

The screen of my phone lights up with a text message. It has no name but I know straight away it’s from Ryan.

So, the guy from class found his passion. It happens to be aggression towards my pretty face. His name is Clive btw. I may not speak much in class but I do pay attention to my surroundings.

My anger spikes at the idea of the jock hitting Ryan. After adding Ryan’s name to the number, I hit save and slip my phone back in my bag. I hate gas stations at night; they’re eerie despite the lights illuminating the pumps.

The cool breeze nips at my arms, making me shiver as I exit my warm, safe car. Yawning, I pump the gas until the tank is full then go inside to grab a Red Bull to keep me alert for the rest of the drive.

“Is that all?” I look up into the brown eyes of the cashier; he has broad shoulders, a strong jaw and a shaved head. He keeps licking his lips at me, making me feel like I’m on display.

“And gas.” I point to my car, the only one in the lot.

He smirks at me, his eyes lingering on my chest while he gives me my total.
God, has he never seen a woman before? What is it with guys being total jerks today?

“Hey!” I click my fingers in his face to bring his pervy stare to my face. “This is a gas station not a strip joint. These…” I gesture to my chest, “…are not how I pay for my gas, so stop staring at them like they’re going to spring from my top and dance on the counter!”

His eyes widen a fraction before he snatches my credit card out of my hand. I feel his eyes on me as I leave.

I will be taking a hot shower before crawling into bed when I get home.

I open my car door and slide into my seat, locking my doors, then grab my phone out of my bag to text Ryan back before setting off.

He hit you? How’s the damage? M x

His reply is instant, making me smile.

Not bad. I told you I look good in black. Even with black eyes.

I hope you at least got a hit in. M x

Nope, I just let him hit me. He wants to make assumptions about me, let him think I’m a freak.

I can imagine his mind working overtime trying to work out why you didn’t fight back but he’s so small minded he will still only come up with “because you’re a freak”. M x

I know and just to freak him out I’ll wear the title with pride. You’re a freak lover btw, according to Clive The Giver of Titles.

I’ll wear it with pride. M x

I slip my phone away and spot the huge grin plastered on my face in the rear-view mirror. I like this Ryan guy. He’s the first person I’ve met who I think I will enjoy being around since starting college.

Seven long, tiring hours in my car, only to break down a mile from our house. A grumble leaves me as I pull my overnight bag from the trunk and abandon my “safety net” car.

Walking for twenty minutes to get to our house in the dead of night, ignoring the high pitched call of grasshoppers shattering the night’s silence is a chore.

Grass hoppers creep me out! One jumped down my dress once when I was little and traumatised me against them for the rest of my life.

Familiarity engulfs me when I rush up the drive. The huge white house is a beautiful structure sitting on its own, only surrounded by nature. I love it here, the smell of the fresh cut grass, the muggy heat sticking to my skin turning to chills when the occasional breeze wisps through the air and reminds me of the long summer nights of my youth.

The house has five bedrooms, and although only three of us live here, with Mom’s touch, it still feels homely. Mom could have gone bigger with Daddy’s wealth; I think she was quite tame when it came to buying this house. Daddy works in banking and made some lucrative investments, sky rocketing him to become a millionaire. He’s country through and through, and the money never changed that, giving me the best of both words; wealth so we never had to worry, but also a down to earth, well-rounded daddy.

I moan at the darkness that awaits me; not one light left on.
Thanks, Mom
. Rummaging through my purse, my eyes already adjusting to darkness of the night, the only light is from the full moon casting a tinted blue glow. My fingers find my house keys and I sag in relief. I’m tired and just want to shower and slink in to my familiar bed, and wake to Mom’s coffee and pancakes.

I start to insert the key but the door is slightly ajar, barely noticeable to anyone not trying to get in.
Mom must have left it open for me.
I slowly push the door further and a chill races up my spine. I’m tired but my brain has caught up with me. She wouldn’t leave the door open, she knows I have a key. Intuition warns me not to go in but I shrug it off and tell myself I’m being stupid. Like most girls, I convince myself bad things won’t happen to me. This is my family home, it’s perfectly safe.

Lowering my overnight bag to the floor, I take a few small steps inside. It’s quiet and dark, but it’s late so that’s normal.
Stop being paranoid, you’re just tired
.

I walk to the console table and drop my keys down. They make a loud clanking sound, making me “shhh” them. My own image in the overhead mirror makes me squeal and jump a foot in the air. “Oh my God, Mel. Get a grip.”

It happens so quickly, like a cloud passing in front of the sun, a flash of lightning in a storm, a shooting star in the black night sky. A shadow crosses the mirror before a hand grips my throat. The cold leather of a gloved hand as it encases my life in its palm brings disbelief followed by a sheer dread I’d never experienced before. Fear solidifies my blood. “
This isn’t real, this isn’t real,”
echoes on repeat in my mind.

A warm body pushes up against my back. Mint scent from his breath wisps against my ear, dispersing down my cheek and invading my nose. A whimper escapes my lips and I reach up to pull away the hand gripping my throat, my survival instincts wanting to release the vice hindering my breathing.

The pressure eases with an audible gasp from his lips. The warmth from his body leaves my back momentarily as he takes a step away from me. Regaining his composure before I have a chance to act upon whatever spooked him, he reinforces his grip. I know it’s a man from his strength and size. There’s a hint of something from his scent clouding me, a strong soap… surgical soap.

I look into the mirror but I can’t see him. He’s behind me, in shadow, dropping his knees slightly so his face is covered by my head. The darkness of the lobby taunts me. Every child’s nightmare will forever be my fear no matter what age I reach if I make it from here; shadows taking form from the darkness