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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Jacob hiccups as I struggle to unlock the door to his dorm with his arm slung over my shoulders, balancing his weight atop my small frame because he is too intoxicated to walk on his own. My hands shake with fear, which makes it even harder to get the small key to fit into the hole in the doorknob. I exhale sharply, fighting to get oxygen into my lungs. I am no longer moving of my own accord, instead running off of adrenaline alone.
My phone hidden in my back pocket is all I can think about as I finally manage to get Jacob's door opened. He stumbles into the darkness of the room as I follow behind him, trembling as I close the door softly behind me. I had pulled up the voice memo app on my phone while Jacob was still distracted at the party, making sure to hit record before we left Will's fraternity house. Getting his confession on tape is maybe the most detrimental part to this plan—his word is the only proof I'll have to incriminate him.
Even knowing Zach is close by isn't enough to calm my shocked nerves. My mind is consumed with thoughts of my fear, constantly worrying what Jacob could do to me. He'll be outraged when I call him out; of this much I am certain. I reach a fingertip up to my eye, touching the skin gently. I know this bruise isn't the only thing he is capable of—it's not even close.
Every time I blink, I'm brought back to the lakebed. I am experiencing Naomi's terror all over again, pleading into the darkness. My lungs burn and my body aches and all I can think about is knowing I am about to die and yet being helpless to stop it from happening. Bile rises in my throat as my stomach churns. I have to swallow repeatedly to keep my oncoming illness down.
Jacob reaches for me as he falls down onto his mattress, pulling me toward him. My flesh burns where he touches, as if his skin is a lit flame. I hope he's too wasted to notice the way I'm trembling like a leaf.
"Lay down with me," he murmurs, hands gripping my waist, "I want you."
"I don't know," I say uneasily. At this point, the least of my concerns is to pretend I'm okay around Jacob. I just want all of this to be over.
"Come on, Blythe," Jacob murmurs, gazing up at me with pleading eyes. His expression is hazy, the amount he drank tonight evident in his features. "Please."
"Maybe you should lay down," I say, acting as if I care about his wellbeing at all. "I don't want—"
"I said lay down with me." Jacob's tone takes on a much more aggressive approach, his grip tightening slightly on my midriff. "Come on, Blythe."
I inhale a deep breath. Shaking, I lower myself onto his lap, knowing all too well what will happen if I refuse. So I let his hands roam my body for a moment, stopping him whenever he tries to take things further. His lips meet mine, rough and sluggish, proof that alcohol has overtaken his mind. I have to pull away, unable to go through with this any longer.
"Come on, Blythe," Jacob slurs once more, tugging on the hemline of my shirt. "I know you want this. Stop being like that."
"Jacob—" I try to argue, though I'm unable to get a word out before Jacob's hands have wandered beneath my shirt, cupping my breasts. He squeezes to the point of pain, kissing my neck while trying to undo the strap of my bra.
