Gemma
I was leavingin less than twenty-four hours, yet all I could do was pace my room from the second Isaiah went back to his classes after lunch. I was filled with nerves, and dread, and a whole bunch of other things that I couldn’t pinpoint.
Should I pack?
Should I only pack the necessities?
Should I make it seem like I went missing instead of running away?
I made a mental note to go to the art room in a little bit, maybe right before I went down to the headmaster's office for my weekly phone call with Richard, to grab some of the drawings that I’d stuffed in the supply closet. If anyone found those, they’d know for sure that I ran away, and they might not stop looking.
The phone that Isaiah had given me had pinged on my bedside table, and I rushed over to it, seeing that Sloane had texted me.
I asked her to have a full-on girls’ night with Mercedes before Isaiah got back from his away game later, and she gladly accepted, wanting full details on what was truly going on with Isaiah and me—especially after I had stayed in his room last night. She, along with Mercedes and the Rebels, knew that Isaiah and I were more, but she still wanted the dirty details, and I was fine giving some of those details up.
Sloane: I’m going to the dining hall and bribing the staff to make us something special for girls’ night. I passed Isaiah in the hall. He said he was coming to say bye to you in a few when they got the bus all loaded up.
I smiled,relishing in the tiny moment of happiness before reality came rushing back in.
I was leaving.
I was really leaving. Tomorrow. My throat began to close at the thought, and I realized just how badly I didn’t want to go.
“Why couldn’t my life be different?” I said aloud, plopping onto my bed. I tried to look into the future, knowing that, no matter what, I would be safe because I would be far away from Richard, but the fear was still there. There were questions without answers being thrown around my head. Like, what if Tobias came back? What if Richard learned of my relationship with Isaiah? What did Bain really have planned? What if Richard hurt Isaiah? Isaiah never did tell me what he had planned, but I knew not to ask again. The only thing it would do was make me stay so I could somehow try to protect him, and I was smarter than that. I had to trust Isaiah, and I did. I really did.
I swiped at my cheeks and nodded sternly to myself. I trusted him…and I loved him. Something warm crept down my limbs at the thought of those three little words, and I knew, tonight, I would tell him. I had to tell him because I wasn’t sure when I’d get my chance again, and he needed to hear me say it. I’d shown him. I’d given him my everything, so he had to know. But Isaiah Underwood deserved to hear me say it.
I loved him.
And he deserved my love.
Every bit of it.
The knock on my door startled me. My hand flew to my chest, and I glanced in the mirror to make sure my face was clear of tears. We had one day left before things became very, very real, and I was going to make every moment count.
A smile brushed against my lips as my hand landed on the iron knob. The door opened, and I smiled wide only to crash and burn a second later.
Fear sliced at my throat. My tongue was too heavy to move. The blood drained from my entire body and landed right on top of a set of shiny black shoes.
No.
No, no, no.
My lips parted as a strangled gasp left my mouth. Richard stepped into the room as quickly as his strong grip pinched the front of my throat. My natural reaction was to become submissive and cower, but something inside of me had switched the second I came face to face with him. Strength. Determination. Rage.
The sturdy walls of St. Mary’s Boarding School that felt so protective were like an invisible shield coming down over my body. I wouldn’t submit to him. Absolutely not. Submitting to him again was about as dismissive as allowing him to marry me. Wasn’t happening.
I was angry and so damn close to freedom that I wasn’t going to start over now.
This ended here, and it ended now.
“Let me go,” I choked through a half-closed throat, trying to jerk out of his grip. Richard pushed me up against my desk, the wood cutting into my back as my journal fell and plopped to the tile floor. The leather binding unraveled just enough to pop open to the last drawing that I’d sketched.
Isaiah.
My breath seized as I tried whirling around in his threatening grip, trying to run as far away as I could because I wouldn’t give in this time. I wouldn’t go back to that dark basement to play make-believe with him. I knew there would be no more chances for me. He would never let me out of his sight now. I could no longer fool him. He gave me a second chance because he was forced to, and I ran with it.
I turned eighteen in just a few weeks, and I knew that was the end goal.
Legally, I would be an adult, and he would make me his. There was no way around it. He’d already had the marriage certificate drawn up and tucked away so nicely into its own section of the Gemma file on his computer. The signatures would be there. Judge Stallard had too many connections with too many important people. No matter what shade of crazy he was.
The deep-brown color of his eyes looked black as he glared down into my face, squeezing my neck so tightly I had no other choice but to claw at his skin.
“I hear you’ve been a bad, bad girl, Gemma.” His hand constricted tighter, and black started to creep into my vision. No! I wanted to sob.
How did he get into the school and into the girls’ hallway? Did the headmaster lead him to my room? Did I misjudge Headmaster Ellison’s good character? How stupid could I have been? To trust him? To trust anyone?
Isaiah. He was coming.