[THIS BOOK CONTAINS MATURE THEMES WHICH IS ACCEPTABLE FOR 18+ READERS ONLY]
"Yes?" His deep voice growls. It's so deep, so velvety. I can feel myself getting aroused. Aroused in ways I've never felt before.
"I was told to come and speak to you abou...
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Unknown POV
The warmth of my bedsheets cradled me, grasped and enclosed me like a soft hug. I've never been good at separating myself from them. I just can't stand the cold air that tingles across my skin, whipping around me and trapping me in its icy grip. Perhaps it's because I've always been a bad sleeper, tearing myself away from the little sleep I get feels distasteful. I've been told it's just insomnia, although I suspect it's a little more sinister than that.
I've never felt safe enough to sleep in my own home. Never experienced that comfort that lulls people to sleep. My mind runs at high alert, fearful of each night. How can anyone sleep when they're afraid of what might happen when they do?
You could argue that the sleepless nights are the cause of my bitter attitude. My mood is swamped with waves of frustration and annoyance. I'd love to blame it on the restlessness, but I'm more inclined to believe that this is just the way I am.
Nevertheless, the sheets rip from my body like a bandaid, the bitter breeze biting my skin. It's better to get it over and done with, even if the sheets do provide a warmth that I crave. Swinging my legs, I stagger like a drunk in a bar, making my way over to the bathroom, that woozy feeling sits in my head as I wake to the world around. My eyes are sunken and my hair dishevelled. The ice-cold water stings my face, a rude awakening that shakes away the grogginess. My hair is tamed back as I freshen up my appearance. I could always look better, but I can't fix the tired eyes and pale complexion.
The house is empty, a silence echo's the rooms around me. It's often like this, and even in a quiet house, my body struggles to succumb to a relaxing peace. My mind refuses, allowing the screams to echo and rattle through my brain. They're not real, but they feel it. It's trauma they say, but what can you do about it?
I get out of here today. Life as I know it will all change and I embrace it with open arms. The Alpha Fraternity. Whereas most dream of Harvard or Yale, this fraternity is like a hidden gem, one that has dominated my dreams for many years. That ticket to freedom. Most wouldn't have used the several thousands of dollars I'd saved to relocate for a Fraternity, they would have used it for a house and a mortgage. But the risk had dragged me in and locked me in its grasp. The risk was worth it if it meant a better life. Today, was the day for risks. I've waited six years for this moment. Escape is only a breath away.
Escape from a life I couldn't bare to live anymore. My mum died at eleven and my dad became distant. As a small child, the beatings were hard to take, constant broken bones and concussions. On a few occasions, I was close to meeting my maker. Perhaps if she hadn't have overdosed, life wouldn't have been so cruel. Perhaps my heart was filled with too much compassion? An abused child that understood why he was being beaten. He had a father who still grieved the loss of his wife and the cure to his broken heart wasn't so forgiving.
As I grew older, my tolerance rose, my pain threshold increased. The beatings were more infrequent, what with the late nights and extra shifts, he was barely home. That's if you could call it home. He avoided me, I looked too much like his dead wife. I mourned her, my silent prayers meeting unheard ears. Praying that one day, even if it wasn't today or the next, things would get better.
