Grown(30)

Korey picks up a large stuffed Flounder.

“Yeah, this is perfect,” he mumbles, and takes it to the register.

“Did you have fun today?”

“Mmhmm,” I nod with a yawn, hugging Flounder tight to my chest. “It was the best. Thank you!”

Korey follows me into my room, and I set Flounder on the desk. A reminder of this perfect day.

“Well, good night,” I sigh. “See you—”

Korey is taking off his hoodie, chain, watch, and rings. He looks at me like I’m something to eat. The air changes and I back away.

“Korey?”

He kisses me hard, hands everywhere. I can’t catch up. I push away but he grabs my chin, nails digging, and pulls my lips to his.

My body freezes as he lays me on the bed.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” he whispers. “I’m sorry I yelled at you, baby. I just can’t stand the thought of someone stealing what’s mine. You’re all I have.”

His words thaw me a little.

“You have me,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He kisses my neck, more and more, his body heavy on top of mine. My shirt is gone. So is his. I’m being dragged underwater and can’t breathe. The sound of his zipper rips the room apart. That’s when he grabs my wrist, leading it down his stomach.

“Wait,” I mutter, yanking my hand away. He sits up, hurt in his eyes.

“What? What is it?”

“I . . . um? I just . . .”

He sighs, shaking his head.

“I thought you cared about me.”

I shoot up. “I do care about you! I really do!”

“Then I need you to make me feel good,” he says, pushing my hand toward his crotch again. “Don’t you want me to be happy? After the way you hurt me last night?”

That panic returns. I’m back in the hotel room with Creighton. Trapped. Alone. Scared. But . . . Korey saved me then. So why don’t I feel safe now? His words replay on a loop, he said he’d wait. He said, When you’re ready, I’ll be ready.

“Korey, do you love me?”

Korey smiles. “Of course I do, Bright Eyes. Why else would I do all this? Only for you.”

I nod, the answer not as satisfying as I’d hoped. Thought my heart would burst and flood the earth with our love; instead it races loud in my ears. My muscles tense, bracing themselves.

“Shhhh . . . relax,” he whispers.

Then, I give in, and let him lead my hand down his pants, into his boxers. Something slimy flops in my palm.

He doesn’t kiss my lips. He just grabs my breast, hard, panting, twisting, and it hurts.

It. Hurts.

Holding back tears, I stare at Flounder, sitting on the dresser, watching us. I don’t want him to see me this way. So I squeeze my eyes shut and float away, back to the sea, the waves, the seagulls, Grandma . . .

Korey lets out a moan clipped by a slight scream then an “Ah! . . . That’s my good girl.”





Chapter 38


Witness Statement


NOW



Witness Statement: Tim Houlihan, doorman at The Courlander

On May 20, I started my shift around 6 p.m. Ms. Enchanted Jones came in around 10:30 p.m. Almost didn’t recognize her since her hair is usually short, cut like a boy’s, and she was always with her mother or father. But that night, she came alone. I called Mr. Fields to alert him of a visitor. Told me to send her right up. Seemed a little surprised but happy.

Around 11:30 p.m., Mr. Jones came in, demanding to see his daughter. I called upstairs twice, but no one answered. He called the police, but it’s private property and she’s eighteen. He stayed until around 1:30 a.m., when Ms. Jessica Owens stopped by. They talked outside.

My shift ended around 4 a.m. Ms. Jones never came back downstairs.





Chapter 39


Juice Box


THEN



Caesars Palace in Las Vegas has a giant pool. The fake water calls, begging me to dive in from the penthouse floor.

I want to swim. I need to swim. I need to submerge myself, wash my thoughts clean. Erase the memories.

But Korey doesn’t want me walking around in a bathing suit.

I should be happy. Korey is like Edward from Twilight, doting over Bella with his overprotectiveness. Except, I don’t feel happiness. I feel . . . tired. Exhausted from being woken up in the middle of the night over and over.

I feel . . . used.

“Again!” Korey bellows, standing next to his stylist, Leigh.

Step, step, step. I practice strutting in four-inch heels, each step wobbly, worried that at any moment my ankles will snap like twigs.

The room is crowded with Korey, Leigh, Jessica, and Tony. Korey says I need to wear more designer brands. Gucci, Balmain, Chanel, and Versace. Makes sense since I’m in his world now—I should look the part.

Except . . . all these clothes are super tight. They cling like a second skin, pinching my sides.

“She’s coming along,” Leigh says, giving me a sympathetic smile.

“She has terrible posture,” Jessica comments from the corner.

He nods. “Yeah, and she need to lose some of this belly fat. And tone up these arms.”

I glance in the mirror as he grabs a piece of skin, mistaking it for fat. I try to be on my best behavior. Because the last thing I want to do is piss in an ice bucket again. Maybe my arms aren’t as toned they used to be, after weeks of not swimming.