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Chapter 15

tw: rape, violence, potentially harmful content, etc.


"Okay, stop this," Liam said out of the blue. We were sitting on our couch and I had just informed him that Patrick had invited himself over to our apartment.

I frowned. "What?"

"Whatever the fuck you're doing with Patrick. Stop," he stated.

Ah, yes. Patrick. "It's fine," I muttered.

"Okay, I know what you're doing," he said flatly. "Your boyfriend can't get fired. So stop going out with him."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't know that." And he's definitely not my boyfriend.

"You're trying to protect him." He made me sound ridiculous. Because it was. He didn't need me to do that for him, but I wasn't going to let Patrick run his mouth now. "Why don't you just...I don't know, talk to him?"

"Because," I mumble.

"That's not a reason!"

My mind kept flitting back to how angry Avery had seemed before. His anger however had boiled down to mild irritation after he semi-literally hate-fucked me into his office floor. He had an odd look in his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was mad about. Or if he was mad at me or just particularly annoyed that day. Afterward, though. Afterward, he had held me in his arms and I'd be lying if I hadn't enjoyed that. He had been so soft and affectionate. He usually was after. But, I detected a sincere hint of remorse in his face. And I didn't like that.

"Patrick is an asshole," Liam told me.

"He's...not," I lied dejectedly. The dreaded knock sounded at our door.

He sighed. "And speak of the devil. Stop inviting creeps to our apartment."

Okay, this wasn't fair to Liam either. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'll try to fix this."

"When this goes haywire," Liam muttered, getting up and grabbing his keys. "I told you so." He opened the door for me, and indeed, Patrick stood there, an annoyed look plastered on his face. Liam doesn't even bother looking at him, pushing past Patrick and walking out of the apartment.

Patrick closed the door behind him, sitting down next to me, eyes stormy.

Immediately, with zero warning whatsoever, he grabs my face, pressing our lips together. I winced, not moving. I wasn't sure how people could keep going after someone who doesn't like them but that was exactly what this was. It wasn't just that I didn't like him though. He was repulsive. He wasn't unattractive. But his demeanor and his manipulativeness and the way he kept touching me. I shuddered.

Okay, this had to end.

"I know what you did yesterday," he hissed, his face still inches from mine.

I tried not to glare at him. Or punch him. "And what's that?"

"You're still sleeping with him?" he said, eyes narrowing.

"What's it to you?" I said flatly. I'm not sure if he had seen me talking to Avery or if he was just extremely paranoid. It wasn't like we had sex out in the open classroom.

"Why?" he asked harshly.

"I have my reasons." I had a lot of reasons.

"Is it the grade?"

My face hardened and I glared at him. "No." That assumption bothered me so much for some reason. That is how this started. And it was my idea.

"It is," he insisted. "There's no other explanation." What is wrong with this guy?

"There is," I snapped.

He scoffs. "Don't tell me you actually have feelings for him." He said the words mockingly as if I was a dumb child with a stupid crush.

Maybe I was.

"Listen," I said, trying to keep my irritation from seeping into my voice. "I don't like you. I won't like you. And I'll literally never like you. So just...leave me alone. And leave him out of this."

He forced his mouth on me again, his hand reaching down, grabbing my ass. "You know what you are," he sneers into my ear. "You're a pretty little boy who's a good whore in bed. Don't start thinking that your precious professor will want you as anything more than a toy with holes to warm his cock with an empty brain."

I froze. I knew that the words shouldn't get to me. But they did. Because it was exactly as I feared.

Every time I sat in one of his lectures, I could just hear his voice in my head telling me how stupid and pathetic I was.

And now, as hard as I was trying, I still would never even be a fraction as smart as he was. He had been right. I really was stupid. And I was even more stupid for thinking that it could be anything more.

Then what the fuck was I doing? Protecting him? Trying to impress him? It'd never work.

"What?" Patrick taunted. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Get off of me," I said.

"I don't think so," he smirked. He had a psychotic look in his eyes. He shoves me onto my back. "What? Do you not like me talking about what a useless whore you are?"

He moved, climbing on top of me and pinning me down, back against the couch. "Get off of me."

I yanked at my wrists but he just grins, enjoying my struggle. "Oh," he purrs. "I like it when they fight back. That's okay."

He starts at my neck, eyes trailing over the marks that were always on my skin now. "You like this," he said. "You like it when it's rough."

"Get off of me," I snarled, thrashing in his hold.

"You really are pretty," he hums. "I've been wanting this for a while. I just had hoped that you would be more willing."

I didn't like this. At all. This was nothing like how Avery treated me. I could feel the panic gnawing at my insides. I always had an out. And he would never, ever do this to me.

"This is sad," I said, breathing starting to get shallow. "You can't get laid on your own?"

His face hardened. "Don't be like that, Madden."

I pulled against him, trying to free myself. But at this point, his entire body was pressing me down and my range of motion was slim.

I did this to myself. I was stupid for letting him come into my home in the first place. I was so weak. And small. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. "Fucking rapist."

"Shut up," he growled, wrapping a hand around my neck. My throat grew tight, his fingers pushing inward, choking me. "Whores get their holes filled and they like it."

I coughed, spluttering, shaking my head side to side, trying to throw him off. "Let me go!" I screamed. "You sick son of bitch!"

"No one can hear you," he said, holding my hands together. He started to take off my clothes and I kicked my legs, wriggling underneath him. I was ignored, except for the extra force he pressed down on my legs.

His hand unbuckles his belt and I stare in horror as I realized this was happening. "Patrick," I whispered. "Please."

"Yes," he smiled. "Beg."

He forced me onto my front, pressing my face down into the couch. Then, he touched me. It hurt. It burned. "No," I gasped.

"Don't pretend this isn't exactly what you like," he snapped. "You're a pretty slut who's begging to get fucked. Stop acting like you aren't enjoying this."

"No!" I cried. "I'm not!"

"Come on, Madden," he taunted. "Isn't this exactly how he does it?" My heart dropped. The fucking bastard was talking about Avery. "You know, I really don't blame him. You're not good for anything else."

"Stop," I said in anguish. His words were getting to my head. And I hated that so much.

"You like being forced down."

"I don't," I insisted pleadingly. "Let me go!"

"You do," he said more forcefully, sounding more like he was convincing himself. "I can tell by all the marks on you. You like it when people show you what you're worth."

I whimpered, his nails literally scraping skin. His fingers tore their way in and out of me making me scream all over again. "Please," I cried softly. "Stop."

His face was twisted in a smirk I was pretty sure I was never going to forget. "Relax, Madden," he murmured in a supposedly soothing voice. "Be a good, obedient slut and take it."

I made a noise of protest, but no words came out.

"Don't worry," he continued. "This is the part that you like."

The tears stuck at the back of my throat and everything was off. His hands were on me. In me. They were violating me and I hated it. I made a final ditch attempt to kick him, but at this point, I was done for.

And then, I felt something cold and wet. He was actually doing this. The dread and fear set in, but I stopped moving. He was right. I mean, I despised that he was, but this was going to hurt a lot more if I didn't relax.

But how the fuck was I supposed to relax? I buried my face in the couch, a sob tearing through me. He actually laughed, sending chills down my spine. "I guarantee you that this is exactly what your precious professor thinks of you."

My blood iced over in my veins, freezing my entire body. "No," I said quietly.

He laughed again. "Oh, you really think it's different. You're pretty and you have holes for him to abuse. He's using you as his personal fuck toy, Madden. The only reason you should even exist is for this." And then he was inside me. Fully.

I screamed but no one heard me. I hated everything about this. I felt so powerless. So useless. So unclean. My skin was dirty. He was touching me. And still, his words played over and over in my head. I was a toy. I was being used. And I couldn't escape this time. I wanted everything to be over. My eyes clenched shut and I willed myself not to cry. That would make him happy. I would not cry. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he made me cry.

It'll be over soon.

Then, in the next second, Patrick was ripped off of me and I gasped. "I left my phone," Liam muttered, punching him square in the jaw.

Patrick's head flew backward and he was shoved onto the floor. "Son of a bitch," he groaned, holding his face. He shot me a glare. "You think this is over? If I don't do it trust me, someone else will!" He scrambled away from Liam, making a run for the door.

Someone else will.

Relief flooded my veins but I still felt so sick to my stomach. Liam pulled me into a hug and I welcomed the embrace.

"Thank you," I cried softly into his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said gently.

I wrapped myself so tightly around him I was pretty sure I was cutting off his circulation. I felt the tears spill over, but no more noise left my lips.

When I had calmed down, he pulled away, looking me in the eye. "Did he...um...do anything?"

I felt my insides churning at the thought of it all. "No," I said quietly, my voice small. Suddenly, I just felt all of it weighing down on me. I was almost raped. And I couldn't stop him. And he wouldn't have stopped if it weren't for mere convenience.

I stood on my legs, barely aware that I was in a state of undress, and rushed to the bathroom. I doubled over the toilet bowl, the contents of my stomach spilling out.

I hear Liam come in beside me, patting my back. "I'll get you some water."

I couldn't formulate a response. I just nodded, trying to steady my breathing.

So that's how no control felt like. It made you feel disgusting and dirty and weak. It made you feel like you were worthless and small. Insignificant. I whimpered curling in on myself. Liam returns with water and concern was written all over his face. "You okay?"

That wasn't an answerable question right now. "I want to be alone."

He pressed his lips together, nodding. "Call me when you feel better, okay?"

I didn't know when that would be.

Fuck, if I was this much of a pathetic mess and he hadn't even raped me, what the fuck was I actually worth then? I was weak and useless. And tainted.

I drag myself into the shower. The first shower of many. I scrubbed my body down, but I couldn't feel clean or refreshed or 'better'. It wasn't right. I lean my head against the shower wall, sliding down till I was curled in a ball on the floor, crying again.

"You're a pretty little boy who's a good whore in bed. Don't start thinking that your precious professor will want you as anything more than a toy with holes to warm his cock with an empty brain."

Patrick had wanted me because I was pretty. And so had Avery. And that was it. Because I was worth nothing more.

The water felt fuzzy against my skin, mixing with my tears and disappearing down the drain.

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