Page 16 of Brat Baby
Chapter 9
Emery
“Ems, you’ve got a delivery!”
I pause, head craned over my shoulder in the process of checking my back in the bathroom mirror and trying to get the cream Xavier gave me onto a welt that is still a little open. My reflection frowns back at me. A delivery? I didn’t order anything. “What is it?”
“Come and open it, then we can both find out,” Oakley replies exasperatedly.
I roll my eyes. “One minute,” I call back as I finish checking my back before moving down to my ass.
Mine.
Apparently not.
More like, no one’s.
A heaviness fills my limbs as I internally struggle to get away from the emotional whirlpool of sadness, anger, fear, regret, and loneliness that all try to pull me under. Swallowing, I reach for the cream and squeeze a little onto my fingers before smoothing it over the reddened skin.
The physical wound itself is healing just fine, and I decide to go without the bandage. The cuts on my inner thighs and the bruises over my ass and down my thighs are further along in the healing process, with some patches of green and yellow showing through.
I’d say I have a week left with my marks, and then the evidence of their passion will be wiped clean from my skin. The only thing I will have from them is the thirty grand in my account and the rewards they gave me, which for some reason, feels hollow. Is it wrong of me to hope that some of the marks leave a permanent scar? Just so I know the weekend was real six months from now?
Finishing my inspection, I wash my hands and pull on the pleated denim miniskirt and a loose-necked, light pink off-the-shoulder top. A few minutes later, I have done the bare minimum of brushing my hair, swiping on mascara and lip gloss, and exit the bathroom.
Even though I feel like trash on the inside, I decided this morning that, today, it will remain on the inside. I’m supposed to be fucking excited. It’s my first week of college. The first step to getting my dream life. This is massive. Huge.
I got out. I made it.
Now, I need to act like it.
So, from now on, even though my insides feel like they were put through a meat grinder, my outsides are going to be nothing but sunshine and rainbows.
Besides, I did an internet search last night when I couldn’t sleep about student-professor relationships, and the articles I found weren’t great. Depending on the age of the student, some of the professors actually got arrested on top of losing their jobs. Thankfully, being eighteen, we don’t have that issue.
Which means that if we are to continue anything, we would have to do it in secret. And really, that shouldn’t be too big of a problem, what with their sex apartment. We just wouldn’t be able to interact with each other on campus.
The evidence of our late-night delivery of pizza and ice cream litters the dining room table, which is the first place I look for the package, but it isn’t there.
“Here,” Oakley calls out, waving a hand at the couch seat next to her and then taking a sip from her mug. All her blonde hair is wrapped up in a haphazard bun that is hanging on for dear life on the side of her head. “Did you not order it?”
I shake my head and approach the couch. “Nope, the money from Friday night only deposited into my account this morning. I literally have no idea what this is. Also, I have zero idea how to do the online shopping thing.”
“Maybe it’s from them? And that is a tragedy RE the online shopping. We will be remedying that this week.”
I shake my head again, heart panging at the idea that they sent me a gift, while reaching for my bracelet. “No, they were very clear about never contacting them again. So, I highly doubt they sent me anything. The gifts for Friday and the weekend have both been paid into my vault. And even if it is from them, how did they get my address? Literally, only you and the NU admin know I live here. I have no idea what this is.”
Thisturns out to be a basic thin brown cardboard box with all the usual postal stamps and markings. I lean over the back of the couch, and sure enough, there’s my name under the receiver section. The sender appears to be…
The electronics shop where Derek took me to buy my new phone.
Carefully, I reach down over the back of the couch and grab the box, picking it up like it’s a bomb, a sick feeling that I know what this is growing in the pit of my stomach. But it can’t be, can it? They said this was over. Why the hell are they still sending me things?
I look up at Oakley, and she immediately puts her mug down on the coffee table. She stands, rounds the corner of the couch, and comes over to me. “Itisfrom them, isn’t it?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Do you want to open it?”
