Blythe Tatum expected her freshman year at university to be nerve-wracking, though nothing out of the ordinary. The beginning of her school year starts off as averagely as possible, though Blythe soon finds herself caught up in an unexpected and ine...
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I fumble through the entryway of my dorm, struggling to turn the knob and open the door.
I wince as I slide through the small opening I've created for myself, putting on a brave face when I realize the lights are already on in my room. Kehlani has a night class. I shouldn't be surprised to find that Zach waited up for me.
He doesn't say a word when I enter the room. He doesn't have to. His expression says it all. He appraises me with wide eyes, the shock etched onto his features soon turning to anger. I watch as the light in his eyes fades, gaze clouding over in seconds. His body stiffens, matched with a clenched jaw and unsettled manner.
"Did Jacob do that to you?" Zach asks gruffly. I don't know why he bothers with the question. He already knows the answer.
A slight nod is the only response I give. I soon turn to the mirror hanging on the wall, taking in my reflection. My right eye is swollen, having already turned the faintest shade of purple. My bottom lip is bleeding, brought on by the way I had bit down on the flesh when Jacob first laid his hands on me. My cheek is stained red, light outlines in the shape of fingers branded onto the skin. I want to cry, but I don't have enough energy left to produce tears.
"We have to stop this," Zach mutters. I catch sight of him shaking his head in the background as I eye his reflection in the mirror. "It's not safe, Blythe. We have to stop."
"No." My voice is hoarse. I turn to face Zach, full of determination. "Not yet. I won't. Not until I get what I need."
"Are you insane?" Zach cries as he rises from where he'd been perched on my bed, wandering up to me. "You're hurt, Blythe. I can't let you do this anymore. I'm sorry, but I can't."
"I'm not asking for your permission, Zachary," I spit. "Look at me," I continue, my breath shaking as I force myself to exhale instead of fall apart. "Do you think I'm enjoying this? You think I don't know the risks?"
"Then stop," Zach pleads. His voice breaks, the sound echoing in the silence around us. "Please, Blythe."
"Jacob killed someone," I say in a whisper. "He killed a girl and—and—" I purse my lips, wincing as pain registers from the fresh cuts amongst my flesh. "He killed a girl and then I fell in love with him," I admit as tears blur my vision. "And it's killing me, Zach. It's killing me and I can't stop until I know Jacob will be somewhere far, far away from me. Somewhere he can never hurt me—or anyone else—ever again."
Zach studies me in silence. I'm hurting him, I can tell. He appears physically wounded when he looks at me, as if he can barely stand to do so. Seeing him like this breaks me, almost as much as Jacob has.
"What can I do?" Zach asks softly. "What can I do to make it better?"
I extend my arms out to him, unintentionally pouting. All I can manage to get out before falling apart are two simple words: "Hold me."
So he does. Zach takes me into his arms and cradles my body into his chest, one arm wrapped protectively around my figure while the other smooths down my hair. He lays down, pulling me close, reminding me in more ways than one that he is right here and I am safe.
I soon start to drift off. And like the last time I slept in Zach's arms, I fall into a dreamless slumber. I'm haunted by no nightmares—not even one
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