Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
He flips open a laptop that I hadn’t noticed was sitting on the table and starts typing, though his eyes never waver from mine. At the same time, Officer Healy gets out a notepad and pencil and writes something down.
I start from the beginning, recounting every last detail. The officers nod and continue taking all my information as I talk. As I speak of the incident inside the bedroom, one of the officers interrupts me.
“Do you know this person? The man that attacked you?”
I nod, my throat tightening. Deep down, I’m not sure I have anything to be scared of when it comes to Parker. Yes, he’s vicious, and he terrified me last night, but it was nothing more than a bully tactic. He made threats, but he didn’t actually hurt me. Not like he could’ve. Not like I know he wanted to.
“Who is he?”
My lips tremble, “Parker Rothschild.”
As soon as his name has fallen from my lips, both officers freeze. Officer Healy stops writing mid-word, putting the pencil down on the desk. Officer Walden stops typing, his fingers hovering over the keyboard unmoving. They both glance at each other, some silent conversation happening between them before Healy returns his attention back to me.
“Are you sure this is who you saw? You said it was dark.”
“Yes, I’m positive. I know Parker, I’ve known him and his family for years. It was him. I know it was him.”
“Mhm…” Walden rubs his chin as if he is thinking about how to get rid of me, while his colleague rips the page he has been writing on from his notebook and starts ripping it up.
What the hell?
“I don’t think we’ll be able to help you with this, Miss Bradford. You said it yourself, it was dark and no one else was there. Who is to say you didn’t make the whole thing up? You don’t even have any bruises.”
With my mouth hanging open, I sit there staring at them, dumbfounded. Is this happening, or is this just part of the nightmare? Maybe I’m still asleep, unable to wake up.
“I think it’s in your best interest if you just forget about the whole thing.”
I rear back as if he’s slapped me. “In my best interest?”
“Best for everybody, you included. Don’t make this hard on yourself. Just let it go.”
Just let it go? What is wrong with these people? I just told them I was attacked in my room, and they tell me to let it go?
“Now if you would excuse us, we have some work to finish up,” he dismisses me like I’ve been nothing more than wasting his time.
I want to cry. I want to cry so badly, but I won’t, not here. Rubbing at the corner of my eye to hide the tears, I stare at the two men.
“You have to help me. Someone has to help me. How am I supposed to be safe at the dorms? How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing he can walk in whenever he wants to? This is wrong, and you both know it.” My voice cracks, and it feels like something inside me does too. Like I’m breaking, fracturing down the middle.
“We can’t help you. Now, please leave, Miss Bradford,” Officer Healy orders, and for half a second, all I can do is sit there staring hopelessly at the two officers. How is this possible? How can he get away with this? He isn’t god, he doesn’t own this school, but the officers are acting like he does.
Without another word, I get up and shuffle out of the room, my feet gliding across the floor as I force myself out of the office.
Fear and disappointment reside deep in my gut, but so does anger. It burns through me, and with clenched fists, I march back to my dorm. I hold on to that anger and let it drive me. If the officers can’t or won’t help me, then I’ll have to find a way to help myself. I’m not my sister. I’m not weak.
If Parker wants me to leave, he’s going to have to do more than scare me.
4
Parker
Walking into advanced American literature, I peer around the room to see who is here that I know. One sweep of the area and all I find are some girls who look vaguely familiar. They bat their eyelashes, and on autopilot, I smile at them. Not going there.
Grumbling under my breath, I rake a hand through my black hair and take a seat in the back of the room, hoping none of those chicks decide to get up and follow me. All they’re going to do is get on my nerves, making this already long class, longer.
Over the course of a few minutes, the room starts to fill, more and more fellow Blackthorn students walk in. Before I know it, the only open seat left is the one next to me. When the professor finally starts talking, thank fuck, the seat remains empty, I sigh, sagging down into my chair.