Page 157 of Ominous: Part 1
I frown, confused as I blink my eyes open, taking in the sun stabbing through the canopy of the forest, but before I can say anything, he grabs my face, turning my head so our lips are touching.
“I told you not to grab me—”
“You don’t like when anyone touches you,” he interrupts me, his words ragged.“Except me.”
Before I can respond to that, or think it through, he releases my face, then shoves me forward, towards a thick tree. He grabs my arm, spinning me around, handling me like a ragdoll, his palm pressing into my chest, pinning me to the rough bark at my back.
Everything feels out of control, all at once. Inside my head, I see them. Luna on her knees, his fingers around her throat, maybe his palm over her nose.
It’s like black blurs my vision and my actions justhappen.
I dart out my hand, slipping my fingers into his pocket, the one he always keeps his phone in. I snatch it out at the same time I shove my free hand against his chest. He doesn’t budge, of course, but I bring his phone up to my face, the screen lighting up as I do.
A black background, the time, no notifications. I stare at it as I speak. “That’s a shitty excuse,” I say, my voice low. “Because you think I don’t like when people touch me, that gives you permission to touch whoever the fuck you want?”
His hand is over my chest, fingertips splayed right atop my heart. “I’ll give you my passcode.” His words are quiet, addressing nothing of what I said.
I swipe my thumb over the screen, the keypad opening up for me. “Yeah? Give it to me then.”Let me see everything.
He curls his fingers over the fabric of my shirt. He lifts his other hand, pressing it beside my head, trapping me to this tree. “3, 3, 3, 3.”
I raise my eyes to his. He’s smirking down at me as he tilts his head. “My secrets are inside my head,” he says in a whisper. “But you can look, if it makes you feel better.”
I don’t believe him, about the passcode. With shaky fingers, I enter it in.
My breath hitches when it opens.
I scan the apps quickly. Only four on the initial home screen. His emails and calls and messages are at the bottom, alongside music. No emails. No missed calls. No texts either.
It feels… bizarre.
“Go ahead.” He leans down closer, his eyes inches from mine.“Look.”
I grit my teeth, feeling a little sick. Eli is… known. Popular isn’t really the right word. He’s not always with his friends, not constantly surrounded by a crowd in the hallway. Dominic and Luna and Janelle seem closest to him, and they speak to him more than everyone else. But… people know him, don’t they? Everyone seems to. Who does he text? Who does he talk to?It can’t just be me.
The thought is disorienting. That maybe all those texts to get me to forgive him for Saturday weren’t because he wanted me, but because he… doesn’t have anyone else.
I decide I don’t want to do this anymore.
Without thought, I throw his phone over his shoulder, thinking he’ll fetch it. We hear it drop to the leaves, a gentle thud, but he doesn’t react. He just keeps staring at me.
“Get off of me.” I bring my palms behind me, grasping onto the tree, like I’m surrendering even though my words aren’t submission.
Slowly, holding my gaze, both hands coming to my chest and shifting with his movement,he drops to his fucking knees.
I suck in hot, early-fall air, dipping my head to watch him bow at my feet. His hands come to my thighs, his fingers splayed wide, possessive even as he kneels.
He turns his head, biting the inside of my thigh softly, the strip of my flesh exposed just beneath the edge of my skirt. “You wore the skirt.” His voice is hoarse, and my head spins from his change of subject.
But we’re not done,I want to say.
We are for now.He doesn’t say it, but I’m sure he would.
This stupid skirt isfor you, for you, for you.I want to speak those words out loud, I want to tell him Iwantto drive him insane, just like he’s doing to me.
But I don’t like the way he hurts me. It’s not a prick of pain. Not a tease. It’s a knife in my gut. But his obsession is almost like a bandage.
“Getup.”I say the words as cold as I can. “Get your fucking phone.”
