DAVID POV:I brought a plastic bag from the basement while Geroge stayed in the backyard, utterly quiet and calm.I couldn’t believe that he had just killed Eloise. I am still not able to see a single trace of fear on his face which surprised me, but at this moment dumping Eloise’s body was more important than focusing on Geroge’s emotions.Eloise deserved that death, she deserved it. My son has taken my revenge and I can’t be more proud of him for making such a huge move.I put Eloise’s body into the big plastic bag. It was difficult to do it alone because she has become unusually heavy, but somehow I did. I didn’t allow Geroge to get closer to her dead body.Geroge stayed at his place watching me all the time, he was still holding the gun in his hand and lost in deep thought.I don’t know what will happen next but I need to focus on my son more to erase this awful memory from his mind.“Stay here, George. I’ll be back soon.” I told him and then drove away.I found a good spot, and t
NEW CHARACTERS - NEW PLOT - NEW STORYPatsy POV:It’s difficult to live in a home where your existence doesn't matter at all, but it’s more difficult when out of nowhere your stepfather starts to pick on you.My name is Patsy, I am 18 years old, and my mother just remarried to a man who appears to be my bully, now.He wasn’t like this before but since we moved to his bungalow and I celebrated my 18th birthday, things have started to change.A bizarre change.Like how he tells me to dress properly, what’s wrong with roaming around in my shorts and bra? After all, I am in my home, but no, he has a problem with it.For instance, if I wear a tee and to rest my boobs I remove my bra for a while, so he would start nagging me to cover my things which are my nipples.Like seriously, except for my room, I can’t stay in peace and there also, sometimes I find him barging into me when I am in the most awkward position, like pulling down my bodysuit or standing just in a thong.“I have given you a
PATSY POV:I sort of freeze as Harry leans in.He’s going to kiss me. It’s no surprise. I knew he wanted that from me (or more) when he texted me and asked me to hang out, but I guess I just wasn’t prepared for the reality of it all.Harry is the captain of the varsity hockey team at my school. He’s also got a scholarship for college next year, and a lot of people say he’ll one day end up in the NHL. I had a big crush on him three years ago, but he wouldn’t even look at me, so when he asked for my number last week at school, how could I say no?Harry asking me out is like NASA asking me to join an expedition to the moon; it just shouldn’t happen. But it did, and that’s how I ended up here.I had it all planned out, and it’s working. But now – now I don’t know what to do.Do I really want to kiss him?No, that’s a stupid question. Of course, I don’t. I want him to want to kiss me. That’s all. God, Baron is right; I’m so immature. He’s been telling me that for six months now, but it’s h
PATSY POV:“This is what that boy would have done to you,” Baron tells me, slipping a finger in the hem of my shorts. My core goes tight, trembling as he pulls. I want to stop him, but I can’t move. My body will not listen to me. “Every action has a consequence, and acting like a slut will get you treated like a slut.”He pulls harder, and when I feel the cool air on my mound, I manage to make myself move. I snatch his wrist with one hand and try to stop him, but all it does is make him laugh.“How can you be so naïve? Do you really think you can fight me off? You couldn’t even fight off that little pussy boy back there, and I’m twice his size.”A burst of heat flares inside me, wrapping me in its painful embrace like my blood has been replaced by lava. Shame. It overwhelms me as my stepdad pulls my shorts down over my hips. They fall to the floor, leaving me standing before him in nothing but my panties.“Christ, a fucking thong too. When did you start wearing those?”“I…I’m eighteen
PATSY POV:I look at myself in the mirror pleased by the choice of Baron, That asshole really has good taste.I turn around to see if the back is as sexy as the front.Yeah, it is.The red lingerie on my body compliments my skin, and as I have added the red lipstick on my lips, it’s adding the charm.Taking my phone, I start to take mirror selfies of myself in lingerie, I look damn hot.Yes!!!And then choosing a few, I posted them on my social media account. Let's see who is the ugly one here, Harry.Just in two minutes, people start to react, booing Harry for getting dumped by me. Pleasingly, I started to read all the comments one by one, and just as I was so lost in celebrating my victory, I didn’t hear the knock at my door.And the door opens.“Imani… In my study, now.” Baron barks, making me drop my phone from my hand.His eyes wander on my body with no emotion, but a muscle in his jaw clenched when he notices the phone in my hand.“With your phone.” He adds and forgetting about
PATSY POV:Taking a deep breath, I slowly move my hand down, down, down between my legs until I find it, the spot that gets me there. Only this time when I touch it, my body responds differently.The jolt of sensation is sharp, almost painful, and rocks me. My legs quiver and I have to brace myself against the wall. I hear a groan from Baron and open my eyes to see him stroking his slick cock up and down with a strong hand.“See, you can do it. You’re a good little slut, aren’t you?”I’m nothing more than a visual to him. His eyes are focused on me the same way as if he were watching a movie. I move my finger slowly, circling my clitoris, sending pulses of pleasure through my body. The contrast of feelings inside me is like rays of sunshine breaking through a terrible storm. Despite my humiliation, I can’t help the moan that escapes my lips.“That sweet, teenage body of yours has my cock throbbing, princess,” Baron groans, stepping closer. Isn’t this enough? Is he going to rape me now
PATSY POV:A guy steps out, not much older than me, wearing shorts and flip-flops and a big grin on his face. He spins his keys around his finger as he trots up to the front door and rings the bell. Instantly, my eyes are on my mom.She shrugs. “Hey, a girl has needs.”“Needs, Mom?” I exclaim. “You have a husband!”A husband who clearly has a sexual appetite.“Please, Patsy. Your father and I haven’t had sex in forever.”“Stepfather,” I corrected her. Wait, did she just say they haven’t had sex? How could that be possible? It’s clear that Baron has the sexual appetite of a baboon during mating season. How could he not be taking my mom, even if he’s on to the fact that she’s just using him for his money? “Will you let him in, honey?”“I’m not letting your side-piece booty call in, Mom.” Normally, I might be in the mood to just shut up and do it, but not today. Today I’m not taking any of her shit.“Geez, someone’s in a bitchy mood today.”Thanks, Mom. Way to be supportive.Grabbing my
PATSY POV:“Do your ears not work, Patsy?”Asshole. What is his problem? And how could I have lived with him this long and not known he was a complete psychopath?“Don’t worry. We’ll get you home and warm up. I already started a fire.”“No, that’s okay,” I snapped. “I’ll be fine.”“Oh, no you won’t,” he laughs. “You’ll end up needing me to bring you to the hospital, and I can’t have that.”There’s something obnoxiously charming about the way he’s speaking to me, almost like we’re an old couple and he knows my personality so well that he doesn’t even bother listening to what I say anymore.“You know what? I’m glad to hear you say that, princess. Because the best way to warm another human up is body heat. And I’ve got plenty of that.”“I’ll take the fire,” I reply, finally turning to face him. I expect to see him glaring back at me with anger. Instead, I see him smiling, a light of amusement in his eyes.“You really are a sassy little bitch, aren’t you? I guess that shouldn’t surprise m
VIOLET“Time to wake up,” Greyson says in my ear.I open my eyes and blink rapidly, trying to make sense of where we are. Not on the sidewalk anymore, that’s for sure. The air is warm, absent of a breeze. I’m sitting with my arms over my head. I tug, but they don’t move. Something holds firm around my wrists.A rattling to my right draws my attention. He stands at a wall of windows, pulling a chain to open the vertical blinds. We’re in the dance studio, and the lights are off. My eyes catch on myself in the mirror, but it’s hard to reconcile what I’m seeing with the truth.I’m naked to my waist, my wrists tied to the bar just over my head. My skin pricks, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I force my attention away, back to Greyson. He still stands by the large windows, but his attention is now on me. He’s got the blinds open. Moonlight streams in.“What are you doing?” I scoot backward until I’m as upright as I can be. My back bumps into the wall, and I tilt my head back to get a better
GREYSONViolet, Violet, Violet.I can smell her sweet, floral scent in my room like she rubbed herself along my walls and my sheets. There’s no imprint. No sign of her at all except for the smell. Something I don’t think I could concoct in my imagination.I sit on my bed and inhale again, not wanting to exhale.My father calls me. I consider sending it to voicemail, but the last time I did that, he showed up at my game.Him. At a game.I haven’t seen him witness me play in years, let alone speak to me after the fact. It probably has something to do with our clashing reputations. Can a beloved senator really have a bloodthirsty hockey player for a son?Since our next game is at home, I don’t want to risk that. Coach Roake acted like he walked on water, and I was once again reminded of the complex power my father holds. It goes far beyond his domain of New York.I don’t know if there’s a place his influence can’t reach.“Hey, Dad.”“Greyson,” he greets me. Brisk and businesslike, even t
“When did you get here, Violet?” Paris asks.I tilt my head. “What?”“When. Did. You. Get. Here?”Greyson snorts. “She’s more welcome than you.”You know… when I want him to stick it to her, he doesn’t. He lets her climb all over him and sit close and flirt and fawn. And when I’d rather be anywhere but here, he tells her to shove it.Lovely.“Grey,” she tries.Oh, hell no. “You did not just call him that.”Her expression darkens. “Why, did you lay claim to that nickname?”I cross my arms. “As a matter of fact, I did.”Jesus. Who would’ve thought I’d be arguing about a nickname… this whole night is a mind-fuck. And in the back of my head, I have Senator Devereux’s secretary reminding me of my agreement with them. The fact that my aquatic therapy costs hundreds of dollars that I don’t have to spare, and they’ve been footing the bill.“You’re nothing special,” Paris snaps at me, flipping her hair over her shoulder.I roll my eyes. I’m sick of her attitude, but I don’t have the energy to
Willow rushes me after my first class. She almost crashes into me, skidding to a halt inches away, and drags me into the bathroom. She checks each of the stalls and then locks the main door.“What the hell, Violet?”I jerk back. “What?”“What. The. Hell. Violet.” She glares at me. “You should give a girl some more warning before you go off script.”I drop my backpack and shrug, helpless and more than a bit confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you going to tell me or just keep scolding me?”“This.” She pulls her phone out and shoves it at me.It’s a blog for the CPU Hawks. All sorts of athletic team write-ups, reports, and coverage of the games… plus notices put out by the publicist. Rebecca Dumont.“We met with the publicist the other day,” I say slowly.I click on the most recent post that went live twenty minutes ago.Didn’t take long for Willow to find it—and then me. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find. I told Rebecca that the previous article posted in the
VIOLETThe trip organizers rented out one of the conference rooms for breakfast. There’s a congregation of CPU students in the room, spread out across tables, at the buffet line. I ignore them all, though, in my hunt for Willow.I never ended up texting her last night, and I feel a pang of guilt. It eases slightly, though, when I see her sandwiched between Knox and Amanda.Grey stops beside me. Hearing that I’ve used a nickname he likes—especially coming from me, I guess—does weird things to me. Good things. Strange things. It’s a step in a direction I wasn’t expecting. Like our truce. Like pretending not to hate each other.I’m pretty sure I have frostbite on my ass, though.“Hungry?”I glance up at him. “A bit.”He smiles. “Go sit. I’ll grab us something.”“No, it’s okay.” I head toward the buffet.He snags my wrist. “Vi.”“Grey.” I narrow my eyes. “I have a weird relationship with food, okay? Don’t fight me on this.”He appraises me, understanding lighting his expression. He finall
GREYSON I rise before Violet. I quietly brush my teeth and pull on different clothes, then sit on the unused bed. I grab her phone from the charger and open it, still sort of miffed that she hasn’t thought to put a password on it.Some people are far too trusting.Like Violet, asleep in my bed. I glance back at her and take in her hair scattered across her face, her full lips, parted as she takes in long, deep breaths. Her eyelids twitch, like her eyes are moving in a dream, and her fingers are curled into her pillow.Other than her tense grip, she seems relaxed.My hand aches, but I’ll deal with that later. Both hands are still wrapped. People kept commenting on them last night when I was trying to keep one eye on Violet. The normal rush from being at the center of attention didn’t come, becauseshewasn’t paying attention to me.When the hell did my brain flip to only giving a shit about her?I don’t like it.I go to her texts, and a conversation with Mia Germain catches my eye. The
GREYSONI consider Violet Reece. Before. The girl who seemed to have everything together.Outward appearances can be deceiving. I know that better than anyone.While she hides in the bathroom, I pull up a video of the Crown Point Ballet. One of their shows stars my girl as the lead. I keep the screen close to my face, trying to analyze her every expression when she dances.There’s another video in the suggested list on the side—an interview with Mia Germain and Violet. I don’t know who Mia is, but I’m curious to see Violet. Not just dancing, but her demeanor.It’s different in front of a camera, that much is immediately obvious. She and an older woman sitting in cushioned chairs side by side. Violet on screen is thinner than she is now. She wears a t-shirt, leggings, and a wraparound cardigan cinched tight to her waist. It gapes at the top. Her hair is slicked back in a bun. Even her face has a sharpness to it that isn’t present nowadays.The date on the video is from a year ago.I hi
“You find our special friend?” Amanda asks. “Jess is being the responsible one. She’ll get us home.”Oh, well, that’s a brilliant plan.“I need a drink,” I call.They wave me off.I stand at the bar, silent for a moment, then carefully tug my shirt lower. I don’t have a ton of cleavage, but I guess it does the trick. Seconds later, the bartender pauses in front of me. His gaze goes down, then back to my face.“You got a boyfriend, sweetheart?”I smile sweetly. “Nope, but I do hope I can get a screwdriver. And a vodka tonic for my friend.”He smirks. “I can do that for you.”“Thanks.” My cheeks heat at the insinuation.He hands me a glass filled to the brim with orange juice and vodka. I slide him cash and wait for my change, then take a sip. The taste of vodka gets stuck in my nose, but I ignore it.I’ve stayed away from drugs my whole life. I was a good girl. The one who tried to do no wrong, because I thought that was what would save me in the end.Newsflash—that’s a fucking joke.W
He lifts his head, and I slowly open my eyes. My vision has adjusted. Moonlight comes in through skylights and high windows. There are faint emergency lights outside the rink, just barely visible from here.The cold hit me, and I shiver.He slips out of me and scoots back on his knees. He grips my knees and widens my legs as far as they can go. My ankles are still trapped together by my jeans, stuck on my boots.When he runs his finger from my slit up to my clit, my lips part.“Here’s a little challenge for you, Violent.” He toys with my clit again, analyzing my reaction.I squirm. I want to get off, I’m right there, on the edge, but he pulls away before I can get there. Again. And again. We go through this for fucking eternity, until I’m desperate enough to do it myself.So I do.I touch myself while he watches, while I shiver and moan and try not to let him see all of me. I fucking hate it. Where did my self-control go? Where did my will? But his gaze combats the cold, and I know ju