Sweet Little Nothing

Rob turns his back to me and steps into a small alcove. I notice a door to the right; it’s one of those tiny ones that even I have to duck down to walk through. His lips twist in a way that makes me question if I should trust him or not.

“Get in,” he says, opening the door.

“In there?”

“Unless you’re... scared.” He spits the word like it’s worse than cold broccoli dunked in puke.

And I am. Scared, that is.

The dark is where all of the big-bads hide, but I’d rather get grounded for a month than let him know I’m scared of the dark.

“Fine,” I say, my voice shaking.

I step into the small, dark room. The air is hot and smells like my grandma’s closet. I don’t like it.

“There!” I shout triumphantly. “I did it!”

“Not so fast,” he says when I try to step back into the alcove.

“What?”

“Just walking inside is lame. You gotta stay inside.”

“For how long?” My neck itches at the thought of staying in here.

“Until I say so.”

I try to swallow, but there’s a lump in my throat. “Fine.”

With a look that can only be described as evil, Rob swings the door shut.

I close my eyes and count to sixty, while Rob shuffles around outside of the door. “Okay! Let me out now.”

A cold laugh sounds from the other side of the door. “No. I don’t think I will.”

“What?” Fear slithers down my spine.

“I said no. You’ll stay here for as long as I want you to. Who knows... maybe I’ll never let you out.”

I push against the door, but it doesn’t budge. He’s blocked it somehow. “Rob! Let me out!”

He laughs but doesn’t say anything.

“Rob! Please!” My voice breaks as I begin to cry. “Please let me out.”

“Told you you were a big baby. And babies get punished.”

“I’ll scream,” I threaten.

“Do it. No one will hear you.”

Stella’s eyes are damp as she asks, “Did he leave you?”

“Yeah.” I tug my sleeves down to cover my palms, using the soft cotton to wipe my tears. “He did.”

“How long?”

“Until the next morning.”

“What?” Stella shouts, outraged.

“Yeah, and because I missed dinner—he told my mom that I refused to come downstairs, and she was too lazy to check on me—so she punished me by not letting me eat the next day.”

“What in the hell is wrong with your family?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “This was only the start.”

Stella cringes. “I’m so scared that I already know where it ends.”

I stare blankly ahead, not answering.

“Emmy, did he... did he hurt you?”

“Are you asking if he hit me?”

“And other... stuff...”

I give a sharp nod, and she bursts into tears, crying as though my hurts are her own.

“Oh, Emmy. I’m so sorry.” She reaches out, as if to hug me, and while I’m not a huge fan of physical contact, I lean into her embrace and let her comfort me. “You don’t have to tell me anything else, but I’m here if you ever want or need to talk. Or even just to cry. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, tasting the salt of my tears.

After several long minutes, she releases me. “I have to ask...”

“What?”

“Where does Sterling fit into all of this?”

“He’s Rob’s best friend.”

“So, it’s some bro-code thing? Because, babe, that’s some bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is.” I nibble on my lower lip, debating whether or not I want to say more. “After Rob...after he...no one believed me. Everyone turned against me, even my own mother. Everyone back home says I ruined Rob’s life. When in reality, he’s the one who destroyed me, over and over.”

Stella places her hands to my cheeks, holding my gaze on hers. “You. Are. Not. Broken. Do you hear me? You’ve survived unspeakable things. You’re not broken, or damaged, or a victim. You’re a freaking survivor, and some white-collar loyal lapdog isn’t going to take away or degrade everything you’ve worked so hard to overcome!”

Her cheeks are rosy, and her chest is heaving by the time she finishes. Her words aren’t empty; they’re a vow, and the power behind them settles over my soul like a balm.

For the first time in a long time, I truly have someone in my corner... someone who gets me. And my God, it’s good to be got.

Chapter Eleven

Sterling

I’ve been counting down the hours until today’s class.

A twisted sense of pride at her easy defeat has me wanting to pound my chest.

I emerged from our first battle the victor, and while the taste was sweet, I want to win the war.

“Hey, Sterling,” a blonde coed coos as she enters the classroom. I’m kicked back behind the podium, waiting to see if my little mouse is going to show up today. I nod, both in greeting and as a subtle dismissal—one blondie isn’t picking up on.

“I was wondering, do you offer tutoring? I’d hate to fall behind.”