Page 19 of Breaking You Open

No. It can’t be…

Mouth agape, I stare as a figure vaults over the windowsill and lands effortlessly on the floor.

No, no, no…My body is screaming, yet I can’t move. I can’t do anything.

“Hello, little Sparrow.”

His voice slithers through my ears and blows me open with panic-laced dread, mixed with something else I try my damnedest to ignore. I open my mouth, wanting to scream, but all that comes out is one thinly spoken word.

“Aaron.”

“You thought you could get away from me, little bird? You thought you could fly out of your cage and leave me behind?”

“You-You can’t be here.” My back presses to the wall as he prowls toward me, calm and unhurried. “How did you find me?”

“You forgot to say goodbye when you left, so I did some digging. You filled out your application on my computer, dipshit. Remember?”

“No …”

“Before pulling off a feat like that, you should’ve learned to erase your internet history, little Sparrow.” He’s too close now, close enough to touch me. “I suppose you found out about my little arrangement?”

“Yes,” I say, voice barely more than a breath.

“Who told you?”

“Your f-friend.” I pinch my eyes together as I scramble to come up with the name. “Bradley? Brad?”

“That fucker,” Aaron spits. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m here now. I found you. I’ve got you.”

Got me?

I shoot my eyes back open, and as soon as I do, Aaron yanks hold of me, throws me to the bed, and covers my body with his. I let out a startled yelp, face down on the mattress as Aaron hisses into my ear.

“Struggle, and you’ll regret it. Scream, and you’re dead.”

You’re dead.

You’re dead.

Dead.

The words echo in my ear, terrible in their stark clarity, and I go limp, face buried in the mattress, teary-eyed and strangely longing. I’ll never escape him, so I might as well die by his hand, but even so, I’m not struggling. I’m not screaming.

Aaron’s belt buckle clinks behind me, and he starts yanking at my pants. He’s desperate in his movements, impatient in a way I don’t remember him being before.

“This is your new home, huh?” he snarls. “You think you’re safe here? It’s so much better than Madame Sylvie’s?”

Yes, it is, I want to whine, but all I do is whimper as he spits in his hand and shoves a rough finger into my hole.

“Didn’t think so,” he says, breath heavy. “You remember the times when you couldn’t keep your hands off me?”

I remember. I did want him, once upon a time. I would come home from school after another grueling day where bullies beat me bloody, and the one greeting me with open arms was Aaron, always Aaron. He was there for me when no one else was. But that all crashed to pieces when his friend Brad told me what he’d done. How he’d betrayed me.

I thought I’d be safe from him here, a thousand miles away from our little town in Arizona, but I was wrong. I should’ve known he would never let me go.

“You need to be punished,” he grunts into my ear. “You need to feel this.” He shoves the finger deeper. “You need to feel my cock.”

There’s the sound of him spitting, and knowing what’s about to happen, I make an effort to relax my muscles before he forces his way inside with a measly glob of spit for lubrication. I yelp with pain nonetheless, eyes tearing up.

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