Page 42 of Break Me

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“I’m stuck in this black hole, and I can’t figure a way out. Marissa is going to move halfway across the world with my daughter…” I let out a mirthless chuckle. “She was kind enough to give me a choice, you know.”

Isaac glances at me, curious. “A choice?”

I nod. “I either give Marissa full custody and keep my job and life mostly intact. Or I can fight for my daughter, and Marissa will broadcast my affair with Chloe. I’ll lose Kelsie, my job, my reputation…everything I’ve worked so hard for. And I’ll probably go to prison.”

Once the world finds out about my affair with a student—even a student who is considered an adult—I can kiss my life goodbye.

Fury fills me, and I stand up, hurling my glass at the wall. It shatters, sending a shower of broken glass scattering to the floor. I scoop up the whiskey bottle and take a swig, all the fight I have left quickly draining out of me. Sinking back into my seat, I set the bottle on the floor at my feet, plant my elbows on my knees, and hang my head in my hands. Isaac inhales, stuffing the papers back into the envelope and speaking in a low voice.

“What are you going to do?”

I shake my head slowly.

“I wish I fucking knew.”

CHAPTER16

CHLOE

“Don’t fight me and it will be all over so much faster.”

His words are rough against my ear. My body stills as his hands travel along my stomach, over the curve of my small breasts, under the safety of my nightgown. I feel scared, vulnerable, and more alone than I’ve felt in my entire life. I try to switch my mind off and not think about what’s happening to me, but it’s hard because he’s anything but gentle. His rough hands explore the most intimate parts of my body, hurting me, violating me, like he has a right to do the unspeakable things he’s doing to me.

The door creaks, and both our heads whip around. He stands there, eyes wide as they shift from his father and back to me. His eyes meet mine, green and piercing, then he looks away as the creep climbs off me.

“She was having a nightmare. It’s fine, go back to bed,” the creep mutters.

Tears sting my eyes. I stare at the shadow by the door, pleading with him to help me, to do something. Anything. His gaze shifts to the floor, and he nods, then backs out of the room, muttering an excuse that I’m too upset to hear.

Why isn’t he helping me?

How can he leave me here, knowing what his father is doing to me?

Gasping, I sit up in bed, my heart hammering in my chest. A film of sweat covers my skin, soaking through my tee shirt. My body shivers uncontrollably as I reach for the lamp switch, flicking it on. The nightmare sits in the forefront of my mind, so vivid and real, like I’m reliving it all over again. I see his face in my mind. It’s always there. Not my foster father, but the one man who could’ve stopped it. Sam. Only it’s nothim. The man in my nightmare shares no resemblance with the man whose life I’m trying to ruin. It’s the thing that sticks in my mind the most. The problem is, I’m not sure I trust my own memories anymore, which means I need proof.

I need to figure out the truth once and for all.

* * *

It’s just after midnight,Tuesday morning, and I’m standing in front of Sam’s house, waiting for him to go to sleep. The light is still on inside his bedroom, and every so often a shadow passes the window, telling me he’s still awake.

My head is one big, muddled mess of feelings I have for Sam and memories from my childhood that I no longer trust. I can’t sleep, I don’t eat. I’ve tried staying away from him, but he’s all I can think about. I’m not sure what is real and what memories my mind has manipulated. All I know is that I need to find something that will tell me who he is. I can’t get the image of my foster brother out of my mind and the more I think about it, the more I am convinced it’s not Sam.

The thought twists deep into my stomach like a knife, leaving me feeling even more confused. As much as I don’t want him to be the man who played a part in ruining my life, it makes things so much easier to cope with if it is him.

How do I rationalize ruining his life otherwise?

Finally, the light flickers off. I shiver as the cool wind blows over my bare arms. I really didn’t think this whole stakeout through very well because I didn’t even bring a jacket. I guess like every other aspect of my life, I act before I think. It’s what got me into this whole mess in the first place.

Half an hour passes, long enough for me to feel confident Sam is asleep. My heart thumps as I creep toward the front door. It’s locked, but I was expecting that. I glance around and spy the fuse box to the side of the front window. I remember reading somewhere that it’s the most logical place for someone to leave a spare key, so let’s see how predictable Sam really is. I open the box and run my fingers along the top compartment, smirking to myself when they brush past a key-shaped object.

I slide the key into the door lock and twist the knob. My heart pumps in my chest as I creep inside, closing the door behind me. It's so quiet, the only sound is my footsteps moving across the floor as I straighten up to get my bearings.

Where do I even start when I don't even know what I'm looking for?

With my hands shoved deep into the comfort of my pockets, I wander around the living room, studying photos of Sam and his perfect little family. An ache fills me. I’ve never felt loved and part of a family, and then the only family I knew was ripped away from me. The house itself feels like it's holding its breath, waiting for me to do something inside it that will make it collapse itself around me. It makes my skin itch, but I'm determined to see this through. I need to find something. Anything that will explain Sam, and all that he is, or should be, to me.

I keep telling myself that Sam is a monster. The same monster that has plagued me since I was a child. But what if he isn’t? I feel like I should have had some visceral reaction to him when we first met. Some semblance of recognition,somethingin my bones that would have felt right seducing and tricking him.


Tags: Ivy Arnold Erotic