Fear Me by B. B. Reid Page A

did tell me that our bodies would start to change after puberty so maybe that was it. He had just turned fifteen after all. Gosh, I hope my voice won’t become like that when I turn fifteen in six months . Boys already didn’t like me.
    He pushed past me, into the janitor’s closet, then gripped my wrist and yanked me inside before shutting the door and closing us in with the darkness. My breathing became uneven as I started to panic from being enclosed in such a small place with him.
    “What do you want?” I wanted my voice to sound strong but it trembled along with my body. There was only the sound of his erratic breathing so I squinted, to see what he was doing.
    “Open your shirt,” he ordered. I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest and took a step back but the shelves behind me told me there was nowhere to go.
    “What? Wh— why?”
    “Why what?” he snapped.
    “Why do you want me to open my shirt? You’ll see my—”
    “I won’t see anything, stupid. It’s fucking dark.”
    “So why –.”
    “Just do it,” he said impatiently. I was fourteen and already self-conscious about my body, especially because I knew what my shirt hid. I was a late bloomer so my breasts were new to me and I wasn’t all that comfortable with them. My hands dropped to the buttons on my shirt. After the first button it became harder and harder to continue but somehow I did until the sides of my shirt were lying open.
    “I – I’m finished,” I whispered. I heard him suck in a ragged breath and just as he did I could feel something cold and sharp against my neck before it trailed down to my chest and stomach and up again. A knife? Did he really have a knife?
    “Do you feel that?” I could feel his breath on my skin and knew he was close. The hard point was now teasing one of the hard points on my breast and I shivered involuntarily.
    “Yes.”
    “What is it?” he asked.
    “A knife.” My voice was small as I answered him.
    “No,” he said softly. I felt a sharp nick and winced silently in pain. “That’s your life coming so close to ending. Soon, Monroe.”
    * * *
    I remember going home later that day and finding dried blood on my shirt and skin and realized he must have cut me. I often wondered if it was by accident or intentional. After that, I never chanced going to the bathroom alone.
    “So are you sure you’ll be okay staying by yourself for six weeks?” My aunt’s next question snapped me back to the present.
    “I’m sure. This is big, Aunt Carissa. You shouldn’t miss it.”
    “I just feel awful about missing your birthday.”
    “No worries. You know how I feel about my birthday.”
    “Oh honey…”
    “Really, it’s fine.” I shifted from my feet, hoping she wouldn’t bring them up. “Are you still mad at Susan?” Susan was my aunt’s agent and friend. They’d been through thick and thin since the start of her career.
    “No. She pulled some strings and got Europe fitted into the tour schedule, so all is forgiven now.”
    “That’s awesome!” I swallowed against the pain in my throat while trying to hide the anxiety I felt over having her leave. What if she never came back like they did? I shook it off and headed for the stairs, thinking to get a head start on my homework assignments. Bainbridge gave out syllabi with pre-planned assignments and readings to prepare us for college. This was pretty much my routine since I didn’t have a social life.
    When I reached the landing I made a beeline for the shower, deciding to wash the day away first. After showering, I wrapped a towel around my body and headed for my room, flipping the light switch on as I entered. I immediately saw him lounging on my bed and felt my heart leap out of my chest. Thankfully, I didn’t scream or it would have alerted my aunt.
    “Close the door,” he said. I tensed at the angry and predatory tone of his voice. As I shut the door, I couldn’t help but feel as if I was locking myself in with the devil