Vision (5 page)

Somehow I avoided him the rest of the day,
heading to the library after my last class to finish an assignment,
partly to avoid him and partly to finish the assignment. Earlier I
had sent Sienna a text, telling her I would see her at home. The
house wasn’t too far to walk, and my umbrella was attached to my
hip these days. Like Portland, the fall season meant rain in
England and lots of it.

Nearly two hours after classes ended, I left
the campus having completed a good deal of homework. Feeling
lighter, I headed back to the Brown’s grateful for the time alone
to think and process recent events. The clouds were dark and
threatening, ready to dump rain. I quickened my pace hoping to
reach the Brown’s before the sky opened up.

I thought about how everything had changed
since my move to Cambridge. Change was good, but I had never felt
so – confused. The night visions had shifted to a beckoning from
the great beyond – more personal, and inviting, and persistent, and
horrifying.

Two boys were giving me attention. One,
apparently on a forbidden list known to everyone but me, and one
who seemed to – know me already, who was totally irresistible. Life
had indeed shifted to stranger than fiction.

The black car approached slowly, and I
contemplated between waiting or dashing across the street.

It was the Jaguar.

Andre.

My plan to avoid him after school had failed.
He had simply waited for me.

The car slowed to a stop where I stood
curbside.

His expression was serious, demanding, with a
big smile on top for effect. “Hop in.”

The passenger door was already open. My heart
sped up with apprehension. Was this sudden anxiety brought on by
all the warnings, or was I actually sensing something?

My reads were so off these days.

And with theatrical timing, it started
raining.

“Oh, hi.” My greeting was nonchalant,
distracted as I giggled with nerves. “You know, normally I would
take you up on your offer, but I need to walk right now. Call me
later.” My thumb and pinkie finger formed the universal hand signal
for phone, a gesture I would never use under normal
circumstances.

But nothing about my life resembled normal
anymore.

His head tilted to one side, briefly
contemplating the rejected offer before he became demanding again.
“Layla. It’s wet out. Get in. Let me drive you up the street.” He
added a smile like an after thought, his eyes burning with
foreboding passion.

If he drove me up the street, he would want
more, but if I refused again he wouldn’t leave me alone either.
There was no one around.

Rock and a hard place, rock and a hard
place.

Reading minds had always been my go-to, when
in doubt, reliable character read. I never had this problem, and
didn’t have a back-up plan. If I continued walking, he would
follow. But the thought of sitting alone with him in a confined
space didn’t feel safe either.

I should have walked away. “Um – okay why
not.”

His smile switched to satisfied, and I got in
the car.

“I missed you today. How were your classes?”
He was talking to me in a tone that insinuated we were in a
relationship, like ‘hi honey how was your day?’

Stay cool. Almost home.

I tried relaxing, hoping he didn’t pick up on
my uneasiness. For some reason, I felt like prey, and didn’t want
Andre to sense my fear. “Good, you know, I just wanted to make sure
my assignments were on track. I tend to get obsessive about
schoolwork. Oh, this is the street.” I pointed toward the left, but
he didn’t turn.

Instead he sped up moving through the Brown’s
neighborhood, and within seconds we were blocks past my
destination. “Let me show you something first.” The look in his
eyes was past mischievous, moving toward scary determination. The
Jag was fast, and he didn’t hesitate to break speed limits.

He pulled off the road into a park area
filled with overgrown trees that masked all light from entering.
This was shade central, even on a sunny day, but with wet skies it
was pretty damn dark.

I silently gulped. “Andre, I really need to
get home.” I struggled to keep a casual timbre, masking the slight
panic welling up in my chest.

He shut off the engine and turned toward me.
“Thought you said your assignments were fate accompli?” His fingers
touched my curls, his hand moving to caress my neck, making me
shudder with discontent. This felt nothing like Stuart’s sensual
electricity. My eyes closed trying to think of a way out of the
situation. He misinterpreted that as pleasure, moving closer.
“Let’s get in the back,” he growled.

My eyes sprang open, my skin now crawling
with anxiety. “Andre. Take me back to the Brown’s and stop trying
to hold me hostage.” I forced a laugh for good measure that turned
into more of a rattled sounding guffaw.

His eyes darted around quickly before meeting
my eyes. “Better idea. Let’s make-out. Just for a few minutes.
Please?” And suddenly he was a young boy asking for ice cream –
pretending he was hard to resist, and extremely manipulative.
Unsure how to respond, my eyes locked into his trying to get
something, anything, to help me figure out what was on his
mind.

But there was nothing except the unabashed
hunger in his eyes that frightened me to death.

I switched to offensive strategy.
Maybe…kissing…will calm him down – a quick make-out session while
my mind wanders. Tomorrow I’ll tell him thanks, but no thanks.
“Five minutes to make out then I need to go. Promise?”

His brows raised in a devilish, suggestive
manner as his hand raised in a promise sign. “You have my
word.”

We moved to the backseat and began kissing.
What started out as a pleasant experience the other night had
turned into something else. Andre was strangely aggressive, almost
– desperate. But beyond that it also felt like I was cheating on
Stuart, which was oddly troubling, like a betrayal of epic
proportions. I hated myself.

I couldn’t breathe, and gasped for air. His
lips were pressing hard. There was nothing soft about his
movements. The oxygen depleted from the car, and the windows grew
condensation, blocking the outside world.

Mine. Can’t stop.

And there it was. His thoughts were flooding
into my head hard and fast, his desire nearly choking the air from
my throat. Even when I tried backing away to catch my breath, he
continued to press his weight into me until we were in a reclined
position, something that caused me great unease.

I’ll have her now. Mmmm. Intoxicating. She’s
mine. Ravishing.

He moaned and groaned and grinded and I was
growing sick.

“Andre!” I managed to gasp out his name
through the corner of my mouth. “Stop!”

He was incredibly strong, pushing his body
harder against mine, the blood racing through his veins pounding
against his muscles.

This was getting out of hand.

“Andre, damn it, time out!” But he didn’t
stop. The space was so confined, the car so freaking automated, I
was unsure if I could even get the door open without a decoder ring
or magic word. “Stop. Now.”

No stopping (moan). Too late to stop. Must
have you. Mine. All mine.

The shove was hard, yet he wasn’t fazed much
except to stop and look down at me, hovering with a dangerous half
grin. “What’s with the hostility, babe?”

Through clenched teeth, I growled, “First of
all, I’m not babe and GET OFF ME!”

His laugh bordered on diabolical, and he was
hyped up on testosterone and adrenaline.

I was in trouble.

“No.” And he was off again, smothering me,
groping in all the places I didn’t want to be groped, grabbing my
pants, reaching for zippers. It was as if he had eight hands, and I
had none.

I was growing both pissed, and
frightened.

Was he actually attacking me? How did I loose
so much control? Shit! Think, Layla think.

I shoved him again, harder this time, which
only agitated his behavior, coaxing a snarl from his throat,
spurring his aggression.

I managed a scream. “NO! I don’t want
this!”

Nothing. He literally was not listening to
me, or caring about me in any way.

How could I have been so bloody stupid?

His pants were lowering, but he wasn’t
getting mine down. I would die first.

Frustrated, we wrestled as he attempted to
get both my hands locked into submission.

Pin her first. She’ll like it.

“NO. I. WON’T! GET OFF ME!”

The slap burned my cheek. No one had ever
struck me. My whole face burned, and tears popped from my eyes.

When another scream rose in my throat, his
hand covered my mouth.

A decision had to be made to continue
fighting, or surrender.

There was a loud crash, and the car door
opened.

It took a moment to realize someone else had
arrived, because Andre was skidding off and away from me, like the
monsters in the movies always did when they managed to find
teenagers in a parked car to murder.

Someone, or some thing, was dragging Andre
straight to hell with brute force.

I noticed the hands shackled around his
ankles, hands I had seen before.

He thudded to a stop outside the car, landing
face down in the dirt.

Tugging at the air, still gasping and
repositioning my clothes, I found the door on my side had been
opened. Jumping out, I ran around the car. He was standing over
Andre, panting.

Stuart.

Paralyzed and shaken, I watched him grab the
back of Andre’s collar, easily pulling him up to his feet. Andre’s
devilish grin turned to face his oppressor. But before he could
speak one word, Stuart punched him straight in the nose – a blow
delivered with such force, blood instantly flowed from Andre’s
nostrils upon impact.

He bunched Andre’s shirt in his hands,
pushing him hard onto the car hood, seething through his teeth as
he held him down. “Who the fuck do you think you are, ass
hole?”

All I could think was, ‘Stuart fights and
drops “F” bombs.’

And here I thought he was the Peaceful Prince
of Nottingham.

His question wasn’t rhetorical, and Andre
didn’t answer – probably a wise choice for Andre, since Stuart
appeared capable of killing.

“She said no didn’t she and more than once?”
There was little space between their faces. Stuart continued to
have a lock on the immobile Andre.

That question did require an answer, but
Andre didn’t seem clear about the rules.

So Stuart slammed him into the car again.
“Didn’t she, I said!”

Andre nodded, finally realizing the full
extent of his problem, beads of perspiration forming on his
face.

“That’s what I thought. Now you listen,
prick. Come within speaking distance of her again, and I will
finish you for good. Do you understand?”

Andre nodded again, his shirt soaked with
nervous moisture.

Stuart held his position, nearly choking
Andre into submission then released him with a hard shove.

After many moments, Stuart looked over at me,
and calmly but firmly ordered me into the Saab as he waited until
Andre’s car lights faded down the road, his chest visibly rising
and falling, fists clenched at his sides.

I turned away from him, and heaved.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day, Stuart’s demeanor told me he
was not in a chatty mood, and would not be talking about the
“incident” just yet. Despite the hundred questions floating in my
head, I respected the space of the person who saved me from – well,
who saved me.

After seeing me safely home the previous
night, I convinced him the hospital was unnecessary. He wanted to
hear what led to the predicament, why I was in the backseat with
Andre so I spoke quickly, knowing he didn’t care to listen longer
than necessary.

We were silent until we pulled up to the
Brown’s, and then he stared a hole into me as he whispered, “Do NOT
see him again,” before driving away.

The following day, he sent a text when we
were in our respective classes to say - we’ll talk this
weekend…promise. That made me feel better, and I started to relax a
little.

Andre was MIA. He didn’t show for classes the
day after, or at all. Unsure whether to be relieved or worried, I
decided to stay close to my friends for good measure, vowing to
ride with them to and from classes, and anything in between.

When we met in the parking lot, Stuart was
leaning on the car with his arms folded, boring a hole in me as I
walked toward him. The flood of emotion seeing him nearly knocked
me down. “I want to go with you. Somewhere. Anywhere.” I was
responding to his offer made at Sienna’s Sunday, worried he may
have changed his mind - that he had changed his mind after what
happened.

Regardless, we had to talk and address the
elephant in the room. There were things to discuss, like how the
hell did he know how to find me? I was desperate for answers.

He gave me a half smile, which I took as a
yes, and I knew I was his.

The following Saturday we went to the
Botanical Gardens at the University. The brisk chill was
invigorating as we strolled among the acres of gardens with endless
paths of adjacent garden themes, colors bursting in all directions.
It was pretty and peaceful and very European, surrounded by the
history I had only read about. The sky held big, puffy, white
clouds quickly shape-shifting as we walked, and I was glad rain
would not threaten our stroll.

Stuart knew the name for every living
organism growing, and it was really annoying. He made me realize I
knew little about botany. “You are scary, Fairchild.”

His laugh made me want him, and I swallowed
hard, imagining about what he would think if I jumped him,
imagining the taste of his lips.

“Just, interested in things.” He
shrugged.