Page 32 of Oblivion

“She might experience some cramping and light bleeding, but assuming there are no other issues, she could become pregnant at any time.”

The smile that spreads across my face makes my cheeks hurt, it’s so wide. “Thank you, Dr. Harris, that’s brilliant news. Sammy and I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you traveling through the night and coming here so early in the morning. Send me over your son’s contact details, and I’m confident we’ll find him a new role soon.”

“Thank you, Evan, and congratulations on your engagement.”

After shaking hands with the doctor, I show him out of the house and watch as the town car leaves to take him back to the airport. It’s almost six thirty a.m. now, and the street is alive with people leaving for work and children going to school. Knowing that my time with Sammy is almost up, I climb the stairs and stride back into her room.

Dragging my shirt off, I lift the comforter and climb into the bed with her, pulling her into me and enjoying a short moment with her in my arms. Sighing, I reluctantly grab my cell from the dresser, then position Sammy so she’s laying on my chest, but with one leg out of the comforter, her bare ass clearly visible.With her draped over me, I take a handful of pictures, making sure they’re suggestive but that nothing but her ass cheek is actually visible.

Once I’m done, I check the salve on her finger, climb out of bed, grab my stuff, and leave.

“See you soon, Wild One,” I whisper as I close her bedroom door behind me.

17

SAMMY

The dull thud in the back of my head as I open my eyes has me trying to remember how many more wine coolers I had after I left Evan and came back to the house last night. But I can only remember drinking one before I decided that sleeping was the only way I was going to stop torturing myself by trying to figure out how I bring Drew and my friends together in the same world.

The last thing I remember was climbing into bed and wishing that I was brave enough to show Drew who I really am and not just who he wants me to be. Blinking my eyes open, I wince at the bright morning light that’s filtering through the drapes and tentatively lift my head from the pillow, waiting for the room to start to spin.

When it doesn’t, I realize I’m not hungover. I just have a killer headache and cramps. Urgh, I had an IUD fitted before I went away to school last year because my periods have always been heavy and painful, and my doctor said an IUD could help. It did, and for the most part, I don’t get a period anymore, but I do still get cramps and the flaring PMS that makes me want to kill people who annoy me.

Thinking back, I try to remember the last time I had period symptoms and realize it wasn’t that long ago. But I have been under a lot of stress in the last six months, so it’d absolutely make sense for my body to go haywire.

Closing my eyes, I contemplate going back to sleep, but today is my first day at Harvard, and I need to register for classes and sort out all the paperwork for my transfer. Sighing, I open my eyes again and stare up at the ceiling above me. I was nervous for my first day at Kingsacre. It was when I met Starling, although it was a week or so after that, that we actually became friends.

Instead of being nervous or excited to start school, today I feel resigned, like this is my life and I’m being forced to live it. It’s a strange sensation. Throwing back the comforter, I swing my feet over the side of the bed and stare down at my bare legs.

I don’t remember getting undressed last night, but maybe I fell asleep, then woke back up and got into my pajamas. Only, as I finger the T-shirt I’m wearing, then pull it away to look at it, I freeze. This isn’t mine. It’s the shirt Evan was wearing last night.

How did I end up wearing Evan’s shirt? I left him at the house across the road, then came up to my bedroom alone. I remember that. I remember locking the door. I remember being worried. I remember getting into bed and then…nothing. I don’t remember anything from getting into bed until now. But that’s normal…right?

I don’t remember sleeping any night, but I don’t normally wake up wearing the shirt of a boy who absolutely shouldn’t have been in my bedroom, either.

Panic laces my body as I mentally scan how I feel. I’m naked beneath his shirt, but I don’t feel like I had sex, and the room doesn’t smell like stale orgasms. However it is that I ended up wearing his shirt, I’m fairly confident that it didn’t involve us getting naked together. Lifting my hand to my hair, I pat it down and find it fairly smooth. If we’d have done anything evenremotely sexual, there’s no way my hair wouldn’t be a ratted mess. Although, I guess I could have given him a BJ. But my throat isn’t sore, and my mouth doesn’t taste nasty, so that doesn’t seem likely either.

Scanning the room, I search for any signs that he was here, but everything looks perfect and exactly where it should be. Not that he left any evidence of his presence when he came into my room, night after night, at my parents’ place. Looking down, I check to see if I have a matching anklet on my other leg, but it’s still empty. Lifting my hands, I check for bracelets, and that’s when I see it.

Instead of being adorned with a beautiful but boring engagement ring, my left ring finger is sporting a small black tattoo with the letters E and M entwined together. Soreness blooms to life as I rub at the tattoo, hoping and praying that it’s just pen and will rub off with enough soap and water. But the ink doesn’t smudge, and the letters are still there as realization that Evan broke into my house, came into my room, and tattooed me without my permission washes over me.

He tattooed me!

He permanently altered my body without my permission while I was unconscious and incapable of consenting in any way. Violation makes goose bumps pebble across my skin as I stare down at the image on my finger.

It’s tiny, and if I were to look past the way it appeared on my body, it’s not unpleasant to look at and small enough that it could be hidden by a ring.

My ring.

My engagement ring that is not on my finger. Jumping off the bed, I search the floor, the bed, and the dresser, hoping to find my ring, but it’s gone. Oh god, he took it. He took my engagement ring and replaced it with his fucking initials permanently inked into my skin.

Sinking down to the floor, I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them. At some point last night, Evan must have drugged me, undressed me, and then stolen my engagement ring and tattooed me with his name.

I don’t even know how to start to process all of that information. My body doesn’t feel sore. We definitely didn’t have sex, but I’m not wearing any underwear, and I’m dressed in his shirt. So, at some point, he got me naked, orIgot me naked.

Groaning, I bury my face against my knees. I don’t remember anything after I got back to my room and got into bed. Drugging people is definitely in Evan and his friends’ wheelhouse. Both Sebastian and Clay did it to keep Starling and January unconscious while they put trackers in their necks, so it’s entirely possible that he drugged me last night.

Once again, I run my finger over the back of my neck, searching for a tracker, but again, I can’t find one. But why can’t I find one? He’s clearly claiming me, or at least that’s what it feels like. So why hasn’t he put a tracker in me? That’s the guys’ MO. They find a girl, then tag her like an animal, so no matter how many lines they cross, she can’t ever truly escape them.

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