Page 54 of Wicked Little Secret

I turn toward her, a lock of my wavy hair curledagainst my brow, vaguely aware of how crazed I must look. The truth staring her in the face.

For a moment filled only by the small gap between us and the air we suck into our lungs, Nyssa doesn’t move. She eyes me as though I’m a feral creature she’s unsure how to handle. No doubt debating if she should run or hide or scream for help.

Instead, as the moment ends and a new one begins, she rushes toward me, throwing her arms around my neck for a searing kiss on the lips.

13

THERON

HUSH - THE MARIAS

Iwakethe next morning wondering if it was all just a dream.

The bright autumn light floods the bedroom. Atticus dozes in his orthopedic dog bed, curled into a fluffy donut.

The rest of the neighborhood is no different. A hush has long since fallen over the tree-lined avenue of family homes and luxury sedans.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I’m the only man alive on the whole block.

I lay in bed, staring up at the high vaulted ceiling, and I listen to the thumping heartbeat in my chest.

The same question turns over and over again inside my head.

Was last night real? Did it really happen?

It almost feels like there’s a schism taking form. Two versions of myself that are in direct conflict with each other. The sane, rational Theron Adler who is a criminal law professor at Castlebury University, who spends his evenings reading legal journals for fun, and who otherwise avoids the public at all costs.

And the feral, easily angered, slowly spiraling Adler who can’t be reasoned with. He’s the one who has been leaking into my real life. Some subconscious alter ego that’s slipped into the driver’s seat to do the most insane, risky things.

Did I really do it? Did I really beat Samson Wicker over the head with a rock?

The ceiling above me fades out for the wooded terrain that’s on campus. I’d sprinted ’til my lungs ached and burned in search of her.

Nyssa was wandering off.

She had left the frat house and was headed deep into the dense pine trees.

At night.

Halloween night.

The desperation had consumed me. Toxic emotions had driven me.

Rage and jealousy coalesced into a blinding spell that washed over me as I scoured the campus. The ceiling becomes a movie screen for the memory to play on. My frantic form projects onto the blank canvas that’s the ceiling, and I watch myself dash across the dark, grassy landscape. Leaves and gravel crunch beneath my feet as I come across what I’ve been searching for.

Nyssa splayed on the ground. Samson Wicker on top of her.

“SAMSON, STOP!” she cried out, squirming against him.

But he didn’t stop. He laughed and held her down. One of his hands to both of her wrists, and he wedged a knee between her thighs. The perfect opportunity for him to use his free hand to cop a feel.

“One… hic… one fuck for the road,” he slurred. “You know you owe me.”

Adrenaline rushed me. Heat erupted over my skin.

The dark scene before me blurred.

Everything except for what was about to happen on the ground—Nyssa pinned under Samson Wicker as he went to unzip his pants.

---