Willow doesn’t seem to be fazed by my newly found anger. In fact, she looks as if she’s poised for a fight. “You might make the rules, and you might have all the power around here, but you can’t tell me how to feel. You will never have that power over me. You will never control my mind.”
And just like that, I’m back to wanting to wrap my hands around her throat. Instead, I curl them into fists, digging my nails into my palms. She’s making me lose control. We’re chaos riding a slippery slope into hell, and if we’re not careful, we’ll both get burnt to a crisp.
“Do you want me to hurt you, Willow? Do you want to see what happens when I lose control?” My voice drops, and something inside of me snaps.
Willow’s gaze hardens and lifts in defiance. I can see the fire flickering in her eyes. She wants to push me. To see how far I’ll go, and that only enrages me further, that she has this power over me, the power to make me lose control.
Ticking like a bomb, I try and rein in the anger. Breathing usually helps, but not today. Her scent surrounds me, suffocating me, reminding me further… unable to resist, I twist around and pull my fist back, slamming the thing into the wall. Willow’s soft gasp tickles my ears, and I curl my lip with satisfaction.
Pain lances up my arm and my teeth rattle inside my head at the impact, but the euphoric waves that ripple through me, make me grin like a sick fuck. Pain, pleasure, it all feels the same. Turning, I pin Willow with an icy glare that I know penetrates that feeble heart of hers.
“Stay the fuck out of my way, or you’ll regret it. Don’t come to class. I don’t want to see you…”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Parker,” her voice is provoking, and if I stay in this room another second, I might make good on all the things the little devil on my shoulder is whispering in my ear.
“Watch your back, Bradford,” I smirk like a crazed person, knowing more is to come, so much more. I’ll have her on her knees and her back, but first, I have to get my own thoughts and feelings under control. Willow might’ve won this round, but next time, I won’t show mercy.
9
Willow
It’s official, Parker is psychotic. I assumed that he was before, but now I know without a doubt that he truly is. I can still feel his fingers digging into my skin. His hot breath against my cheek. My heart hammers in my chest like a jackhammer. I’m just as fucked up because part of me wasn’t scared, part of me liked it, liked him on top of me, pinning me to the bed. Taking from me what I wasn’t sure I wanted to give. I shake my head. Maybe I’m even more fucked up than him. I try and focus on my homework, paging through the textbook, but all I can think about is what happened between us, and how it made me feel.
The sun hangs high in the afternoon sky, peeking in through the window, reminding me that I haven’t eaten lunch.
Still, hiding out in my room for most of the day, I wonder how long I can keep this up. My dad is going to find out sooner rather than later that I’m skipping class and doing the complete opposite of what he’s asked me. This is bad, so bad. I’m not sure what to do, how to fix this. Things with Parker aren’t that easy, they’re complicated, twisted.
My phone rings and I’m so used to the quiet now that I actually jump at the noise. No one has called me since… my mood goes from bad to rotten. My dad.
Picking up the phone, my worst fear is confirmed, it’s daddy dearest calling, probably asking for an update on the mission he sent me on. I push the green answer button—even though I want to send him to voicemail—and hold the phone to my ear.
“Hello,” I greet him, trying to hide the disdain in my voice.
“Willow, we have a situation,” my father explains. “I’m with Ashton, she is not doing well at this facility.” Panic claws at me from the inside out. What does he mean? I haven’t talked to her in a while, but last I heard she was doing okay.
“What… what do you mean? Is she okay? Can I talk to her?” My lips tremble as I speak.
“She is stable now.” He sounds annoyed like she’s inconveniencing him. Gritting my teeth, I try not to think the worst.
“Stable?” What does that mean? That she wasn’t at one point? “What’s going on? You can’t just say something like that without explaining.”