Page 41 of Until Presley

“Bitch, I told you I’d make you sorry. You took my mom from me.” She swings at me again, but this time I raise my arm and stop her.

My first year in college here in Miami, I met Morgan, who has a lot of martial arts training. She talked me into taking a self-defense class. All that training kicks in now, even after all these years.

Clara screams from the pain of hitting my forearm and advances on me. I’m in heels, slacks, and a blouse, while she’s in shorts and a tank top. I remember Morgan telling me to use everything at my disposal as a weapon—clothing, shoes, and whatever I could get my hands on.

Using my heel, I stomp her foot when she advances on me. I punch, but she blocks it and hits me again. When she goes for a third hit, I grab her arm and twist her around.

“I’m done being your whipping girl. I’ll be calling the police. I never took your mom from you.” I push her against the wall and step out from the alcove. “You’re nothing but a spoiled bitch.” I back up until I’m far enough away that I’ve attracted attention,then turn and run for my car. I call the police and ask them to meet me at my condo.

She’s bullied me enough. I cry all the way home, knowing our parents are going to be pissed.

I park and get out of the car. My shirt is torn, and there’s blood on it from my split lip. One of my eyes is swelling, making it hard to see.

“Presley,” Ham shouts, his voice is higher pitched than I’ve ever heard it, and he rushes to my side. I collapse into his arms. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I cry and hold on to him. “I’m sorry. It was Clara. She did it all.”

“She beat you up?”

I’m about to answer his questions when the parking lot suddenly flashes with red and blue lights. Ham helps me to my condo with the police following closely behind us. At this point, I don’t care who sees me like this.

I want to change, but the officer insists on taking pictures of me first. I stand there, trying not to tremble and shake with the fear that I’m going to lose everything and everyone now.

I need to talk to Ham, but I can’t with the police here.

When they finally let me go clean up, I make my way toward the bathroom. Ham pushes his way in and helps me. I strip out of my clothes and grab the sweatpants and T-shirt from the back of the door. Ham’s lips tip up in a soft smile when he sees the Navy shirt I stole from him. I couldn’t completely walk away.

“Baby, I’m so pissed this happened to you. But we have a lot to talk about. Come on, the police are going to want to question you some more.” He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. I want him to kiss my lips; I’ve missed his kisses.

He opens the door and takes my hand. We return to the small sitting area. I’ve already told the police about the attack,and they sent officers to pick her up. What more do they want to know?

“Miss Blanchard, can you tell us why she attacked you today?”

“I’m her teacher for the Intro to Marine Biology class,” I begin, “but because she’s my stepsister, I asked the TA for the professor overseeing the class to grade the students’ assignments. That way, it avoids any conflict of interest. The first paper was returned to the students today, and hers got a D. She demanded I pass her.”

“She’s also been posting photos of Presley online,” Ham adds and shows the officers his phone. The latest image is one that Ham took of me when we were out on a surfing date. He captured me lying on the beach, watching him.

“Oh my God! That’s the picture she posted today?” The caption says I’ll pass all the students if one will come give me a good time.

“This is dangerous for her,” Ham states, pointing at me, and I’m beside myself with worry. I can’t believe she did this to me.

“Your address is posted in the comments. Do you have another place to stay?” one of the officers says.

“I don’t know. I can get a hotel. I can’t leave the area until I clear it with my advisor.”

“I suggest you do that. Clara will more than likely make bail right away because of who her father is,” the officer says, and he’s right. Her father always gets her out of trouble.

“We are getting an attorney. I want a restraining order filed right away,” Ham says.

Ham

Iwalk the police to the door. I need to get her somewhere safe, but I also need to get us back on solid ground. I know she missed me; my shirt is proof of that. But it’s been three weeks since I’ve kissed her or spoken to her.

Her phone rings, and I turn around as she answers the call.

“Yes, Dad. Yes, I did that. She attacked me.”

I can hear him yelling at the other end, his voice getting louder with each question she answers. I walk over and sit next to her. I reach for the phone and hit the video button so he can see her. When he sees me, he sputters and blusters for a moment.

---