Warning Signs (Broken Promises #2) (5 page)

“She is never home. Please, keep me company for one night.”

“What kind of company do you keep?”

He smiled. “Any kind of company, as long as it’s pretty and willing.”

I withdrew my hand from him and shook my head. “No, I’m not—I can’t…I won’t.”

“You’ll soon find that giving in is easier than resisting, my dear Beatrice.”

I walked away and as I did he smacked my ass. I kept walking and ignored him for the rest of the night. He made it easier to do so by leaving.

When I went home, Roscoe was happy to see me. I tried to find comfort in his excitement, but all I did was get on my knees and wrap my arms around him while I cried. He began to whimper, and he rested his head on my shoulder with a big sigh. He knew I wasn’t okay. He wanted me to be, so he calmed from the excitement of my return and let me cry. He knew the drill better than anyone at this point. I went to bed that night with visions of Crosley, the person who relentlessly stalked me and nearly killed me, in my head. I tried to keep them out, but every time I told them to leave, I’d think of Professor Long and my fear would only escalate. I wasn’t sure if he was right. I didn’t know if resisting would be worse than giving in, but I knew that with Crosley resisting was the worst decision I had made. It dragged things along and took people with it, and nearly took me. I didn’t want to end up like that again. So that night, I gave in. And boy, did I regret nothing more. Because he didn’t want only sex, he wanted a punching bag. He wanted something or someone to break. He chose me. Because somehow, I was someone he knew would break evenly and still be pretty enough to fuck when he was done. I was once again that porcelain doll up on the shelf. I was cracking on the surface thanks to his heavy hands that hit harder than he realized, and I was shattering on the inside because I knew that I was trapped. It was the hell I never experienced with Crosley. It was the Royal Hierarchy all over again, except I wasn’t the queen of anything; I was a flea compared to the prowess of David Long. When he was done with me, he told me to take a shower and to lick my wounds.

“I expect another round when I’ve recovered.
God,
you’re such a good fuck.”

I showered, licked my wounds, and tried to keep my lip from bleeding too much before swallowing my pride and going back into the depths of my new personal hell.

Paddles, whips, chains—they were a few choice tools in David’s arsenal. Sex with him was torture. It wasn’t pleasurable and it wasn’t fun. It was agony and it left me in pain every time. Professor Long liked pain. At least, he liked to inflict it. He got off plenty while I writhed in pain from his senseless torture. His hands did not caress my every curve; they left bruises on every inch of skin. His lips did not kiss mine; they spat insults. And lastly, his offer wasn’t for my pleasure, it was for his. After he was done with me for the night, he threw my clothes at me and watched me redress with care. So many afflictions that would soon become marks and bruises left me feeling small, weak, and afraid. I went to school the next morning and dropped his class. I had a feeling he’d fight it, but I didn’t want to be his favorite bit of company that he kept. Because the kind of company he kept wasn’t kind, or safe, or gentle. It was vulgar, violent, and he hit not only with his hands, but also with wooden paddles and leather belts. While I tried to pretend I was okay with it, it was obvious that my body had rejected the notion that it was all right. I knew I wasn’t okay, and going home I felt safe for only a fleeting moment. Because once I fell into the bed I had missed so dearly, I got a text from Professor Long.

Until next time…

Followed by a picture of his dick. I rushed to the bathroom and proceeded to vomit. This wasn’t what I wanted at all, and now I was stuck. I was so fucking stuck.

CHAPTER FIVE

Weeks had passed since my first sexual encounter with David, and I was still attending his class once a week. When I went to drop his class the official statement I had been given was: “I’m sorry, we can’t accept your request to drop his class. You’ve missed the cut-off date by a day.”

I tried to hide my trembling as I made my way through campus after the academic advisor broke the news to me. I didn’t want to see him, but I had no choice. There was no escaping him now. I had to deal with my own worst nightmare as a professor during one day of every week for the rest of this semester, and deal with him as my masochistic lover by night. I didn’t know if there was a cut-off date for that.

When I entered his class, I could see the pile of phones he had taken up since he had instilled the no-photo rule in my honor. I tried to sit in the seat with the most obscured view from the front desk, and I tried my best to avoid being seen. I knew he still saw me. It was a small studio class; he could see everyone. This made my feelings truer; no matter how hard I tried to hide he would always manage find me. By the time the class ended, I took a quick exit from the art studio, but someone had grabbed me to say he wanted me.

“I can’t see him. I’m going to be late.”

“He said it was important. He said he’d fail you if you don’t come see him right now. Sorry, got to go.”

The look of shock on my face didn’t register with the person who had delivered the message. For all they knew I was on the brink of failing anyways. I went to him and when the studio was empty, he grabbed me and tried to be affectionate, while I was trying to keep him at arms’ length. He had my arm in his tight grip, and tears ran down my face. He tried to keep me still and unable to move from him as he pressed a kiss to my head, which had been hit on the bedroom floor the other night.

“You seem afraid of me. Why are you afraid?”

“I’m not afraid,” I lied. It was pointless to lie when he could see the fear so crystal clear in my eyes, but I knew that I couldn’t possibly admit that. My fear gave him more power.

“Beatrice—”

I spat in his face. I always hated the name, and when he used it, it made me sick to my stomach. He swung at me and slapped me in the face with all the force he had. I tried my best not to wince or cower in pain; I couldn’t show him how much it hurt, how much I knew I was going to pay giving in. Because suddenly I realized giving in wasn’t easier than resisting. Giving in was hell on Earth. Resisting meant you still had a shot for the stars.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry.” He didn’t look sorry. He was smug, and he didn’t seem to care at all. I slowly returned to my normal stance, and I didn’t dare touch my stinging red cheek.

“What did you want?” I said in a monotone voice.

“I want your undying loyalty.”

“You think you can have that from me? Fat chance.” I tried to walk away, and the only thing stopping me was his little piece of blackmail.

“I’ve taken pictures, y’know. Of you, in my bed, naked, bloody, and totally exposed. There are even some of you in the shower I believe.”

Turning abruptly, I began to show more anger than fear. “Professor Long, I’m going to ask what it is
you
want now. Because you’ve picked me out of every female in your classroom and you are trying your hardest to make me break. Why? Why do you want to destroy me so badly?”

“I want power. You have power, and I want it. You have the media running circles around you, princess.”

“I am
not
a princess!”

“I can call you whatever you like. No need to throw a fit.”

“I’m not throwing a
fit
. I’m getting fed up!”

“Fed up of what? Of me?”

“Yes, you. Only you. Because you’ve got everything you can possibly have from me and you’re asking for something I can’t give you.”

He pulled me closer and stuck his hand down my pants. “I have
this
.” He grabbed my crotch, and I tried pushing him away. “That’s all the power I need. You try to take it away, and these pictures will go viral.” He showed me his phone’s camera roll, and with every picture my pride and sense of self began to diminish.

“What more do you want from me?” I asked between the threat of tears.

“I want you, your body and your consent.”

“Do you really want my consent?”

“It’s preferable, but not required. I’ve got this, and that’s all I need to have you saying ‘yes’ to me every chance you’ve got. So if need be, pretend.”

“Pretend to give you consent?”

“Yes, say it’s what you want. It’ll be easier to give in than it is to resist.”

I closed my eyes to gather myself. I needed to be grounded, because everything felt like it was falling apart. I tried to form the words, but it wasn’t entirely easy. With a deep breath—inhale, exhale—I said the words he demanded I spit out for him.

“Yes, it’s what I want.” I refused to tremble as he took me in his arms.

I watched him sign the paper, and he let me leave after that. I quickly went to the nearest trashcan, and I threw up. The stress wasn’t good on me at all.

***

I didn’t go to school for days. Professor Long still called me every minute and every hour that was spent without him. He still dragged me with guilt to his house and made me sleep with him, which I always ended up regretting. He beat me every time, because it turned him on. Seeing me in pain gave him pleasure. One night I was so broken I had to stay the night with him. Sleeping next to him was torture, especially when I could clearly see his wife’s house shoes on the floor by the end table. I knew he was lying about his wife. When he found I knew, he gave me her jewelry. I wondered if she’d ever notice it missing. I couldn’t go on like this, and so I told Lia. At least, I planned on it. I had to stop by Ben’s first, because he had requested an audience with me. He was treating me like royalty, and I was honestly still pissed off at him. I didn’t want to see him, but I had to. He said it was important, so I had to get through this somehow.

“Ben, I’m here!” I shouted once I got into the house. I turned into the main entryway and immediately closed my eyes. Splinter had caught me by surprise, mainly because he was naked.

“Jesus, Splinter! Put some clothes on!”

“Oh god, did you—”

“Yes I did.”

“Okay, I’m going!” Splinter ran upstairs, and I began to question my sanity.

“BENJAMIN!”

I was determined to find him, but the anger in my voice seemed to call out to him in a way that my normal, calm voice didn’t. He appeared instantly and looked worried.

“Why is Splinter running around naked? Am I hallucinating?”

“Well, did you take something before coming over?”

I shoved him and let my anger take over. “No! You’ve got to be kidding me! Tell me why I’m here and
why
on
Earth
Splinter was
naked!
”

“I’ll explain later. Please follow me.” He took me into his office where he told me to sit down, and with much anticipation growing between the two of us he threw a magazine onto the desktop in a furious attempt to show me what was on the front. The words,
The Morrison Study
were bold and hard to go unnoticed.

“What is this?” I asked, and he sighed.

“Do you know a student named Lia?”

“That is totally—”

“Just yes or no, please.”

“Yeah, I have a friend named Lia.”

Ben laughed. “Get comfortable and read up. Because she isn’t much of a friend if you ask me.”

I couldn’t get comfortable with the feeling of anxiety churning in my stomach, but I went on to read what had been written. It was a psychological study of me, my life, and my mind. I trembled with anger. The only thing that made sense was tearing apart the evidence. But I knew there was more. It was a local magazine. After a little inspection, I became even more furious than before.

“She goes to fucking
Dartmouth,
” I said with disdain.

“Yes, she does.”

“She used me for her senior project. She used me like…”

“Like a piece of meat?” I began to cry. It had been a while since I had cried in front of Ben.

“Do you want to sue?”

“I want to get away. I want to run.”

“You can’t run away from this. This is our life. There are shitty people who you think you can trust and then you find out you can’t. It happens to everyone. But for us, it’s more public. We need to deal with it.”

“No,
you
need to deal with it.
I
never asked for this. I only asked for you to call me your sister! I didn’t sign up to become a public spectacle!” I got up and left without even asking why Splinter was here. At that moment I didn’t really care why. When I saw him as I was leaving, he was fully clothed and he had his hair up in its normal man bun. I couldn’t remember if it was like that before or not.

“You look like you need to let off some steam.”

“Yeah, sure, Splinter.”

“Really? Nearly two years pass and this is the way we act?”

I stopped and looked at him as I mindlessly wiped the tears off my face. “I’m sorry, I’m not in the friendliest of moods right now, Splinter.”

“Oh, don’t be. I wanted to tell you I had an idea of how to change the headlines for you.”

“Oh yeah? Well tell me, because I can’t seem to trust anyone but you.”

“Let’s go out and get some tattoos. Let’s publicize it, make a big deal out of it. People love us, and we get to choose how they see us. If people see you are out doing something aside from focusing on that shitty stuff and having breakdowns, they’ll see a better side of you.”

“And this will help me
how?”

“It’ll help because you won’t need to defend yourself. Other people will see that shit isn’t true without you lifting a finger. They’ll know you. It’ll only be by secondhand, but it’ll be worth
something
.”

I smiled and held out my hand. “Okay, let’s go make the news go crazy about us, Splintass.”

“You know, people still love calling me that.”

“Only I can call you that.”

“Why?”

“Because I started it.” Silence filled the rooms, and he laughed.

“I’m so glad we’re past the high school bullshit. Aren’t you?”

“To be honest, Splinter, high school never ended. We just let go of the people who didn’t grow up. We got old.”

“Don’t say that. We’re not that old.”

“You are. Crosley told me you repeated your senior year his sophomore year. How many times did you have to repeat your senior year until they let you graduate with us?”

He sighed and motioned me toward his car. When we were buckled in, he pulled off to find a good tattoo shop. “I was a low-income student. I couldn’t pay off all of my debts that come around senior year. I opted for work-study within the school, and I had to keep at it until I worked enough hours to pay off the debt. I happened to earn enough by the time you were a senior. So I graduated with you.”

“They seriously kept you from graduating because of the debt?”

“Yep.”

“Assholes.”

“No kidding.”

I leaned across and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Are you going to tell me how old you are?”

“Nah. But I’ll let you get a tattoo with me.”

Laughing, we went into the tattoo shop we had picked out, and the rest of the day didn’t seem so bad after that. When I went home I went to Instagram to see how well the photos were being taken by our ‘fan base’. When I saw all the feedback, I was happier than a clam. I was so ecstatic that when I saw another text from Professor Long, I ignored it. However, I didn’t ignore Lia.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked when I called her.

“I hope you know you messed with the wrong person.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“Don’t bother explaining the reasons behind your pathetic study to me. I am not your friend. If you were studying me, that makes me your patient, not your friend.”

“Bea, please let me—”

“No, let
me
explain. Whatever you think you know about me is bullshit. Your paper is shit. You are a piece of shit and I couldn’t care less what happens to you. I’m going to lose your number, and you better lose mine. Because if you don’t, I’m gonna sue you.”

I hung up the phone, and for once I felt power in my heart and soul. It was riveting and exciting. Then when I saw the texts from David, I was a heaping mess all over again. I had no one to tell, no one to confide in. And for all I knew, my efforts were meaningless. He could easily turn over those photos without a second thought. First I was walking on eggshells with Ben and now I was walking on very thin, slippery ice with David. I didn’t know what he was completely capable of. But after tonight, I would find out.