Page 25 of Paper Doll
Students are milling about the campus paths, carrying coffees and chatting with one another, going about their day like there aren’t predators lurking in their midst. I want to scream at them, warn them about these so-called ‘Kings’ that they all seem to worship. But they already know, don’t they? Richelle tried to warn me the Kings were dangerous. I just refused to believe it.
I stand there frozen in front of the library doors, hyperventilating. I’m on the verge of a damn panic attack. Suddenly, it feels like everyone’s looking this way, smirking and snickering. They all saw Wes parade me up the stairs to the loft last night.They know.
The blur of tears obscures my vision as I lunge forward, taking off down the sidewalk. There’s a fork in the path ahead, but are the dorms to the left or the right? In my frantic state, I’m suddenly all turned around. Everything about this place is unfamiliar and I’ve got nobody to talk to, no safe place to land.
‘I think the little slut wants some cock now, don’t you?’
Bile crawls up my throat as Raf’s words from last night resurface in my brain, a tremor running through me as I recall the threatening edge to his voice when he uttered them. I swear I can still feel the ghost of his fingers inside me, poking and prodding, violating me like some nameless, faceless doll for his own sick enjoyment.
‘Well shit, little slut’s telling the truth.’
I think I’m going to throw up.
I slam to an abrupt stop, folding over at the waist and pressing my hands to my knees, retching. I haven’t eaten anything this morning, though, so nothing comes up– just the bitter taste of my own shame. Tears track down my cheeks as I straighten, only to see that people are now definitely staring.
I have to get out of here.
Surging forward, I keep my eyes pinned on the pavement as I speedwalk down the path. My wrists burn at the memory of Ford’s tattooed hands wrapped around them, holding me down. My mouth tingles at the thought of Wes’ throbbing cock on my tongue. I brushed my teeth until my gums bled both last night and this morning, but it still wasn’t enough to forget the way he tasted when he spilled down my throat or forget how he held my chin as Raf ordered me to swallow.
‘Good girl.’
But I’m not a good girl, not anymore. Because those monsters violated me, took from me without asking, and some twisted part of me must’ve enjoyed it. Why else would my bodyhave reacted the way it did, coming on Wes’ tongue, on Ford’s hand?
I veer off the path, ducking between a pair of buildings and slamming my back against the side of one. The rough stone scrapes my shoulders as I sag against it, pressing a hand to my chest in an effort to calm my racing heart.
I didn’t want it.No matter how my body reacted, I didn’t ask for those boys to corner me and use it for their twisted games. I wasn’t a willing participant in what they did last night up in that loft.
Lowering my backpack from my shoulders, I stoop to unzip it and reach inside for my phone. With shaking hands, I pull up my mom’s contact and hit dial for what feels like the hundredth time. Pressing it to my ear, I listen to it ring once before going to voicemail.
I love my mom, but I’ve never wanted to be like her. I promised myself that I’d be different; that I’d break the cycle and carve out my own future rather than spending my life on my back. Corvus College was supposed to be my way to make that happen, but here I am just two days in, and any plans I had to take control of my own destiny are already falling apart.
Lowering the phone from my ear, I mash the end call button, then try again.Isn’t this the definition of insanity, trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?My shoulders slump in defeat when I get Mom’s voicemail again, not even able to leave her a message since it’s full.
A sob tears from my throat as I hang up, dropping my phone into the open backpack at my feet. Mom acted like she was doing me a favor by sending me to school here, when in reality, it was just a ruse for her to abandon me. Gideon has always been her priority. How many times did she drop me like a bad habit when he came calling? I always gave her the benefit of the doubt, believing that she tried her best when it came to being a parent,but I can’t deny the obvious. She’s only there for me when it’s convenient for her. And right now, when I need her most, she’s off galivanting with her new husband somewhere abroad, ignoring my desperate calls.
I’m all alone.
The reality of that settles over me like a dark cloud, my stomach sinking like a stone. I press my eyes closed and dig the heels of my hands into the sockets, willing myself to pull it together.
Maybe it really was my fault, after all. Wes’ attention made me feel special; made me feel trulyseenfor the first time. I was so desperate to chase that feeling that I ignored all the red flags waving in my face. It’s pathetic how easily I fell into his trap.
Even so, why did the other guys swoop in like they did to participate in my humiliation? What’d I ever do to them to warrant such vile treatment? I never met Ford before last night, but Raf and I were friendly when we were kids. Gideon said his son would look out for me here at Corvus College. I thought he’d take care of me.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Damn, you look even worse than I do this morning,” a male voice chuckles, and I whip my head around in alarm to see a guy leaning against the wall of the opposite building a few paces away, pinching a joint between his fingers and sparking up a lighter.
He’s tall and lean, his eyes bloodshot and his scraggly blonde hair a mess atop his head. He lifts the joint to his lips, cheeks hollowing out as he takes a long puff, then blows the smoke out in a gray cloud. Pushing off from the building, he takes a step in my direction, holding it out to me. “This’ll help the hangover.”
“Stay away from me,” I snap, flinching away like a wounded animal.
The corner of his lips curl up in a smirk. “No offense, sweetheart, but unless you’re hiding a dick under that skirt, you’re not my type,” he drawls, taking another puff.
I quickly assess him, taking in the tight fit of his skinny jeans on his scrawny legs, his form-fitting black tee, and the rainbow band tattooed around his bicep, peeking out from beneath the sleeve.
“C’mon, I swear I won’t bite,” he coaxes, puffing out another cloud of smoke and offering the joint to me again. “I’m Bryce, by the way. You must be new around here. I remember my first party at the boathouse, I could barely crawl out of bed the rest of the weekend.”
Though I’ve recently learned a hard lesson about wolves in sheep’s clothing, there’s something playful about him that’s oddly comforting, especially given my fragile state. Deciding he’s not an immediate threat, I let my guard down and take a hesitant step in his direction.
