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Lulu
Picking up the picture frame from my bedside, I smile sadly.
I wish I could say goodbye.
Three girls stare back from the photo. My two best friends, Sam and Shelby, and me. The three of us were inseparable in school, and then life happened. I regret not making more time for them.
Swallowing hard, I turn to Ajax, my face heating as our gaze meets. His eyes haven’t left me since I started. My skin has long warmed but not through the heating nor embarrassment. I look good. One glance at his crotch tells me that he agrees.
What will happen between us when we leave?Will he take me again? Will I let him?
Squeezing my legs closed, I fidget.
Shame. That’s what warms me.
Ajax smirks, his eyes fixed to where my body betrays me.
“Write a note.” He nods to my dresser, where a notepad lies. “Say how Andrew was cruel and that you can’t take it anymore. Write that you’re leaving this afternoon. Then date the top of the page like a diary.”
My mind shuts down as I follow his order. I don’t think; I just write the words he tells me.
Standing behind me, Ajax strokes his hand over the back of my hair. My body thrills at his touch.
Taking the finished note, he folds it before placing it on the nightstand.
Please don’t open the stand drawer.
Something on my face must give me away because that’s exactly what he does.
I grimace. “It was a joke gift. I’ve had it for years.”
Chuckling, he lifts the small vibrator and makes a show of throwing it into the case to come with us.
“I need to go move Andrew and clean up the mess we made.”
I cringe as he stresses the wordwe.
“I need to be quick, and it needs to be perfect, so you’ll stay here.”
I shake my head before he even finishes.
“What did I say about disobedience, Louise?”
I open and close my mouth.
“What if my mom wakes up?” I ask, desperate to find a reason we should stay together.
“She won’t,” he argues.
My stomach sinks. If he leaves, I won’t have a reason not to go to the sheriff. I can’t stay here and pretend this isn’t happening.
As if he can read my mind, Ajax comes closer. Taking out my grandmother’s quilt, he zips up both the case and the bag. Once he’s placed them on the floor, he spreads the quilt over the whole bed.
What is he doing?
My breathing grows heavy when he picks up the rope.
“No, no, no.” I shake my head, backing up.
