Page 62 of Did They Break You

His eyes look nearly black, even with the light streaming in.

His room is big, spacious, neat and tidy, and I wonder if I’m even at EU anymore.How did we get here?

I can’t remember anything. Panic seizes through me and Cortland watches me, like he’s waiting for something.

“What happened?” I gasp out, the icky taste of alcohol on my tongue. The wall is cold against my back and thatfeelingof something stuck to me…No.

He arches a thick, dark brow, then his eyes drop to my neck.

Something in his expression shifts. His full lips pull into a soft smile, and I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as he drags his gaze back to meet mine. I’m being photographedagain in the hospital, the bruises on my breasts, around my throat, my thighs.My arms.

It’s like all the air in the room is gone and I’m choking on memories.

Did he leave a mark?

“What do you remember, Rems?” he asks, bringing me back tothisnightmare. His words are whispered, and there’s no regret in his tone. Nothing apologetic.

He’s like he was when I ran into him before classes started.When I realized my worst nightmare was back.

Anger builds in my veins, and I squeeze my arms tighter around my chest. It feels so hard to breathe.

“Where are my clothes?” I ask through gritted teeth, sweeping my gaze over the floor of his room. I see my hoodie then, on one side of the bed.

But my jeans are on the other.

My stomach flips as I look back up at him. He looks amused.

“What did you do?” I whisper, knocking my head back against the wall. I press my thighs together, and unlike the last time Cortland had his way with me, nothing reallyhurts, but I don’t know if that means anything. I don’t know if every time is supposed to be so painful.

He glances between us. At my thighs.

All my muscles seem to vibrate with nerves. “Cortland.” I hate that it sounds like a plea.

He steps closer, his body nearly touching mine as I press back further into the wall. “Do you want to call the cops again, Rems?” he asks me softly, still smiling, a dimple flashing in his hollow cheeks. “Or maybe you wanna call your daddy?”

Real fear is like ice in my veins as I think about my stepdad. But underneath that sensation, I hate that I feel the smallest amount ofreliefthat this is with Cortland, and not someone else.

“Did we…” I close my eyes. I can’t ask him while I look at him. “Did we have sex again?”

He’s quiet a moment before he speaks. “Are you saying the first time, that’s what we did?Have sex?” His tone is venomous. Angry.

I swallow down the lump in my throat, keep my eyes closed tight. “No. I mean… yes. But I didn’t… I didn’t want it.” Those words are hard to get out and my face feels like it’s on fire.

He exhales, loudly. “Would’ve been nice if you had said so that night. And you know what? It’s a fucking shame.It was good for me.”

Psycho.“What did we do last night?” I try to ignore his last words. Try to ignore thoughts from that night worming their way into my brain.

“Open your eyes, pretty baby.”

I don’t want to, and my skin crawls when he calls me that, but I open my eyes, looking into his dark ones.

He jerks his chin, toward the bed.

I furrow my brow, confused as I glance at his sheets, only half on the bed from where I leapt off the mattress. He slowly reaches out for me and I don’t flinch as he grips my chin, then turns my head to face him, his thumb running along my bottom lip.

“You don’t remember?” he asks me. There’s something raw in his words, the way he’s looking at me.

I shake my head, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

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