We climb the steps to the third floor to start at the top and work our way down. I walk down the hall, leading the way as Wyatt trails behind me, pointing out insignificant things he did when he went to school here.
“Oh dude, I remember setting off fire crackers in this bathroom! The fire alarms went off, and everybody had to wait outside for the fire department,” he tells me, as if I should be impressed.
I tune him out as I walk, losing hope with each room I pass. After finding my third classroom vacant and locked, I’m beginning to see this trip was a waste of time.
“Nobody is here. Let’s check out the second floor and then we can leave. Sorry for dragging you out.”
Walking down the staircase to the second floor, I can hear Wyatt trailing behind me. As I step out onto the landing, he grabs me around the waist, pulling me towards him and pushes me up against the stairway wall. “What are you…”
His hands come down, pinning my arms to my sides as his mouth crashes into mine, cutting off my question. He doesn’t waste any time as his frantic tongue begins searching, demanding entrance into my mouth. I keep my lips clamped shut against the assault.
What the hell is he doing? His hips press into mine, anchoring me to the wall, and I can feel the length of his erection pressing sickeningly against my lower stomach. He brings both hands above my head, securing mine in one of his large palms, and his other arms snakes around to hold my thrashing head still.
“Stop, Wyatt, stop it!” I call out, fear rising within my body. My heart begins to race when he doesn’t release me, and the adrenaline kicks in, sending a dizzy rush to my head.
“Shh, baby. We’re alone, no one will catch us. Relax,” he says before bringing his mouth down to my exposed neck. He licks and sucks the sensitive skin there making me shudder in disgust, before biting down roughly when I won’t stop moving.
“I don’t want to. Get off!” I try to kick out my legs, to hurt him, to get away, but his hips continue to hold me still. His left foot tangles with my right, and his right knee digging into my left thigh painfully, holding my legs apart. Immobile. I’m trapped between the brick wall and his stone grasp.
“I like it when you’re feisty,” he whispers in my ear before biting me again. "You're mine, baby. All mine. I'm going to remind you of that."
A terrified scream erupts before he clamps his mouth over mine once more, his hand leaving my head to grip my chin painfully. He slides his fingers towards my throat, closing off my supply of precious air. In a moment of vicious, desperate lust, he releases my arms to thrust his hand beneath the waistband of my sweatpants.
I wrestle desperately with the hand choking me, but it’s futile. The digging and scratching of my fingers is nothing compared to the gripping hold he has on my neck. He’s too strong and he has me exactly where he wants me.
I close my eyes against the onslaught of his fingers between my legs, trying to close down, to feel nothing as he thrusts them inside of me. I whimper, knowing I’m helpless to defend myself. My vision blurs, inky blackness creeping in around the edges. My lungs expand painfully, drawing in nothing but a horrible sucking sound as they desperately seek oxygen. I’m lost, detaching and retreating inside myself. I become numb, and I welcome it.
CHAPTER TEN
Mr. Ryan
I waited until the end of sixth period before I called Mr. Stephenson about Tatum’s absences. After her breakdown on Wednesday, I can’t help but feel like something might be wrong in her personal life, and she needs somebody to reach out to her. I’m trying to respect her, since she clearly isn’t fond of me, and I know he mentioned being a confidant for her in the past.
He and I chatted for a while after I brought him up to speed, mostly about sports and how my first week went, and I decided to stay late to grade some papers after we ended the call. I feel more comfortable working here than I would back at my lonely townhouse. There’s also a slight chance Melissa might show up to try to talk to me about our relationship-that-never-was, so maybe I’m also staying late to hide out. Cowardly, yes, but I don’t care so long as it saves me a headache.
At quarter past four, I decide it’s time to pack up and blow off some steam at the gym. Trey and I made plans to lift at five and afterwards get some beers in the next town over.
Grabbing my briefcase, I step out into the dark hallway, locking my classroom door. As I turn to the right towards the doors leading to the teacher’s parking lot, I hear a blood curdling scream from behind me.
My heart lurches into my throat and I drop my briefcase, sprinting down the hall towards the sound. Rounding the corner to the stairwell, I’m stunned momentarily as I stumble upon Tatum, pinned against the wall as someone assaults her.
Tatum! No. Fuck no.
My assessment takes but a second.
My eyes zoom in on the hand around her neck, the way her eyes are round as half dollars as she struggles to take a breath, her face red and mottled with tears streaming down her cheeks, the pricks hand shoved beneath her pants, and my blood fucking boils. White hot rage entwines itself within my veins and before I can think I find myself hurtling towards her attacker. Grasping him by the back of his shirt, I thrust him against the opposite wall.
“What the fuck?” he yells.
Before I can check if she’s okay, I rush over to where the prick lays, nursing his bruised skull and kick him in the gut twice in quick succession, feeling intense pleasure at the grunts he’s emitting. My black Oxford’s send him tipping over the concrete steps, tumbling and rolling to the bottom where he lies motionless, cupping the back of his head. I’m about to descend on him once again, all thought and consequence lost to the flood of emotions rushing through me, when a small whimper from behind me pulls me back from the brink of absolute rage.
“My God, Tatum,” I rush over to where she’s slumped down against the wall, her arms crossed around her middle as if she’s trying to physically hold herself together. Tears stream unchecked down her cheeks, but she avoids meeting my eyes.
“Look at me,” I request, carefully crouching down in front of her. Trying to survey her for damage.
She shakes her head no, burying herself further into her arms.
“Let’s get you to my classroom. I’ll call the police,” I tell her, approaching her slowly, not wanting to touch her without her permission. My heart continues to drum a rapid rhythm in my chest, and I try to take a deep breath to calm myself down. The sound of my panting probably isn’t comforting her.
“No! You can’t do that, please don’t,” she cries out as I draw my cell phone from my pocket.
“Shh, Tatum, it’s alright. They’ll help you. You might need a doctor.” I have 9-1-1 dialed, when she suddenly stretches forward, batting the phone from my hand with an astonishing amount of power for how feeble she looks right now.
“Please, no!” She shrieks before fresh sobs wrack her body. I’m at a loss. The school is empty, and I can’t get her to listen to me. She needs help, but I can tell she’s terrified.
“Listen to me. You need to report this. You need to talk to the police. I need to report this.”
“I won’t talk! Just let me go, please Mr. Ryan, I’m begging you. Don’t make me do this!” God, her voice is hoarse and terrified, and it crawls inside me to the nucleus of my being.
My moral obligation is warring with my sudden need to protect her. Some unfamiliar urge has taken over, but seeing what I just witnessed has me wanting to do whatever this girl asks of me. And I relent. I could lose my job over this, but keeping her safe is suddenly much more important. I’ll analyze that thought later.
“Okay, I won’t,” I try to soothe her in a calm, gentle voice. Finally she looks at me, and while staring into her deep watery hazel eyes, something breaks inside of me. I’ve never seen a vulnerability at this level before.