Page 84 of Did They Break You

“Cort,” she whispers, “she’s got you all fucked up.”

Yeah. She does.

Maya’s blue eyes are wide, her grip sure. “Let me help you.”

I close my eyes tight as Maya strokes me.

No.

But she’s insistent, her hand slipping under the waistband of my sweats. Her fingers curl around my cock, and it feels good.

I keep my eyes closed.

Don’t let her do it.

I repeat it over and over in my fucked-up brain, but I think about the porn I like to watch. The shit I like to do. How Maya would let me choke her fucking black and blue if I wanted, and never complain, so long as I stayed with her.

I was always sweet with Remi. But she fucked me up all the same.

When Maya whispers, “Lie on your back,” I still have my eyes closed, but I do as she says. I feel her tugging at my sweats and I grip her hair tight, then hear her whimper.

But it’s Remi in my head.

And if she did something like this with someone else…

Before Maya can get my pants down, my door creaks.

My eyes flash open and Storm walks in without saying a word.

Then he stops dead.

Looks from Maya, staring up at him like a deer caught in the headlights, to me, his face expressionless.

Then he sighs. “You’re fucking stupid,” he mutters before he walks out, closing the door behind him.

Yeah.

I am.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

REMI

“You good?”Sloane asks, looking over at me from her desk.

I’m sitting on my bed, leaning against a stack of pillows with my laptop on my lap, going through directions for an assignment for one of my psych courses. I decided to minor in it because it’s fascinating. As long as I don’t think about my own fucked-up head too much and why I am the way that I am.

With Sloane’s question, I look up, my heart racing. “Yeah,” I say, and my voice sounds strangled, even to my own ears. “Why?”

Sloane pops a Hershey’s Kiss into her mouth, and I glance at the Reese’s by my side. My favorite candy, we used to sneak entire bags into the movie theater back in Aben.

That was before I was lying to her about everything.

She shrugs, her cream-colored sweater slipping over her arm. Absentmindedly, tossing the little foil wrapper from her candy down on her desk, she pulls up her sweater and scoots her purple chair back, resting her bare feet on her desk, crossing her legs at the ankle. “You’ve seemed a little off.”

Guilt flares through me.

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