Dominic
I didn’t waste any time putting my shirt on. I didn’t even pull on my shoes before I left Hannah’s room. My insides were molten, my mind raging.
What the fuck?
My fist was curled around my possessions because I knew that if it was loose…I’d be breaking bones.
There was so much money in her purse. And that thing.
I don’t even want to think about it. I just had to get out of there.
All the way home I feel like a fool, thinking that she was just waitressing in that stupid club. When Harrison said that Connor had gone off with a waitress I’d only worried that Hannah might be doing the same thing for a second before I discounted the idea.
She’s a smart girl.
Bright. Sassy and sweet.
She’s got a great future ahead of her. Why the fuck would she sell herself so short?
I want to go back to that club, find the fucking sleazy manager and make him pay. I want to tear that place up so that no one can go there and ruin any more lives.
I want to punch the wall because of my own fucking disappointment. Maybe I’m an idiot for hoping that what I did with Hannah was going to lead to something bigger.
I just don’t get it. I know she said she needs the money, but that was thousands of dollars. What does she need that kind of money for that she would sell sex to make it?
When I walked her up to her dorm I wanted to tell her to quit that job. I wanted to tell her that it’s not safe and that no money is worth the kind of risk she was taking. I wanted to tell her that she was selling herself cheap and that she’d get a reputation that she might not be able to shake.
Most of all I wanted to tell her that I didn’t like it. The idea of all those men looking at her in so little had my blood boiling with jealousy.
I wanted to rage with all the possessiveness and protectiveness that I felt, but I didn’t.
Now I think I should have.
If I had, we never would have gone this far. I would never have felt the rush that came with being inside her, with knowing her that way. The proprietorial feelings that I had at the club came rushing back, and for a while she was mine, just the way I wanted.
Now I realize that all that was a mirage. A fucking pretense.
Now I realize that Hannah Star is anyone’s for the right price.
And you know the worst of it? I’m not even angry with her. She didn’t lie to me. She didn’t try to cover it up. She just turned away and hid her face.
She looked ashamed and that realization is like a shard of glass to my heart.
It doesn’t take long for me to get back to my dorm but once I’m there I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t sleep. The images of the money, of her face when she realized that I’d seen it, are fucking haunting me.
I put the TV on, but nothing works. I have a beer but even that doesn’t take the edge off my fury. In the end, I throw on my running gear and head out into the night.
The air is damp but I welcome the fresh feel of it against my skin. I don’t wait to warm up, just set off into a pounding sprint that has my lungs screaming within minutes. The campus is never totally quiet and I see people making their way home from nights out. I do a full loop of campus, taking me past the library where I met Hannah that first day, past the canteen, the humanities building, the gym. I’m not really concentrating on my route, just using the exertion to clear my mind, so, when I end up at Hannah’s dorm again, I’m surprised. I keep going, not wanting her to see me out here running after what happened. That’s when I see the car.
Black as the night.
License plate D4RK.
I slow to a jog, eyes fixed to the back window, trying to see if there's anyone inside. Just as I get closer the car starts to pull away. I speed up, trying to catch sight of the driver but he’s too fast. I slow to a stop, watching it leave.
What the fuck was that car doing back here again? Hannah was pretty terrified of the owner, but I don’t know. Does the money have something to do with it? I look up to the window of her dorm, hoping to see her so that I’d know she was okay, but the curtains are drawn and it seems as though the lights are off inside.
I stand, panting, lungs burning and sweat trickling down my back, and I have no idea what to do.
Should I go back up there? I have a pretty good idea of the reception I would get if I did. Should I call the police? And tell them what? That I suspect that a car that just left the lot belongs to someone who might be a threat? I have no proof. They’d laugh me off the line. I don’t have a choice. I have to call Hannah.
I pull my cellphone out of my shorts and dial her number. It’s the only thing I can think to do. I hear her answer, then silence. “Hannah,” I say, about to tell her that the car was here again. She doesn’t give me the chance.
“Dominic. Don’t call me again.”
The call clicks off and I’m left staring at the black screen. At least she’s okay.
But her voice. It was flat. Empty.
My finger hovers over the screen. I want to call her again and tell her the car was here. I need her to know, but I’m pretty certain she won’t pick up. Instead, I send her a message. When I press send, I don’t feel any relief. I should be up there, keeping her safe.
I was so angry when I left, but now? Now I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet.