Shame (Ruin 3)
I groaned and leaned my head back against the couch.
“Rough night?” a smooth voice said next to me. I didn’t turn around, but all the hairs on the back of my arm stood on edge.
“Yeah.”
In my peripheral vision, all I saw was a guy in glasses wearing a Yankee hat. I couldn’t make out his profile because part of the hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up to cover the side of his face. “That sucks. Hope it gets… better.”
“Thanks,” I muttered as he stood and left the coffee shop, shoving his hands into his pockets.
Chills ran down my arms. I rubbed them and then reached for my coffee, just as Jack sat down across from me.
“So.” He put his legs up on the table. “Tell me, how does an orgasm from a teacher feel? I’ve always wanted to know. Is he better in bed because he’s forbidden…?” His eyes gleamed. “Off limits?”
“Jack.” I looked around to see if there were enough people in the coffee shop to notice if he made a move. Three. Three people. “Look, I don’t want to fight.”
“Found you a new partner.” He ignored me. “You know, since you find me so disgusting.”
“You’re not,” I said quickly. “But you did scare me last night.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Fear is good.”
“Pardon?”
“Fear is learned… and you… you’ve been such a great student. You know, I wanted to save you, but I can’t anymore, Lisa. I can’t save you.” His eyes pooled with tears. “Just remember, you did this to yourself.”
“Jack, you’re scaring me.” I fumbled with my phone, trying to unlock it so I could call 911. “Are you okay?” Keep him talking; keep him from doing something crazy.
“I’m scaring you?” He laughed. “Oh, that’s right, coming from the girl who ruined my life… coming from the girl who took a video of a fifteen-year-old boy getting reject
ed in front of a hot model… pants wrapped around his ankles… looking all kinds of aroused for all the world to see. Do you remember? Well, do you? Or how about the second video? You know, the one that was posted of me in the bathroom? I’m sure that should jolt something.”
The phone dropped out of my hands.
“Oh, so she remembers. He asked you to do it… to put me up on the website, but what’s so funny is I know something you don’t know. I know so much and your time… is up.”
“You?” I sputtered. “You’ve been sending the notes? Breaking into my apartment?”
“Let’s go for a ride.” He stood and held out his hand.
“No.” I shook my head.
He showed me the blade of a knife. “Well, hell, this wasn’t in the plan, but I don’t give a rat’s ass anymore. You scream, and I move so fast that you don’t even feel the pain as I slice your throat open. Get up.”
I stood, gripping my phone in my hand as I frantically looked for help. I made eye contact with several people, but they looked away.
“Let’s go.” Jack hit my butt. I scurried away, but he gripped my arm and led me out the door. “I’ve studied you… like a book. I know everything about you, and the thing is… I was totally sane until you ruined me… and slowly it turned into an obsession finding you, destroying you.”
He led me to a brand new blue Mustang. “Get in.”
“Jack,” I tried, using a calming voice. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry. It was so long ago and—”
He slapped me hard across the face. How did nobody notice? Why didn’t anyone come to my rescue? I vaguely recalled a social experiment where a woman was screaming rape in the street, and no one had helped; it wasn’t until she said fire that they’d come running.
I opened my mouth to do just that when he covered it with his hand. “I don’t think so.” The knife touched my throat. “Now, we do this the easy way or the hard way…”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Terror is something a person experiences when fear is long gone, and in its place is nothing but the evidence that you aren’t going to make it out alive. —Lisa