Page 97 of The Devil We Crave
I’d been giving conflicting signals.
I wanted it.
I was misremembering.
I was drunk, and the restaurant could confirm that.
I was embarrassed because I’d peed on his floor, so I ran off.
Whatever else he said in his office that day is a blur. All I know is, after I left I realized I had nothing to go on in terms of “accusing him”. I also had nothing to gain, and everything to lose.
So I stayed quiet.
Buried it.
And the exact same conversation just played out here again in the dark parking lot next to Elvira’s.
“I haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”
He looks up from his phone and smiles in recognition.
“What did I do to you, Yelena? Take you out on a date?”
“You assaulted me. You tried to rape me.”
“Did I?”
“YES.”
“So why aren't I in jail?” He smiles again. “Ah, maybe it’s because you haven’t told anyone. Because you're not actually a victim.”
My brain short-circuits at his audacity. Then I freeze when he steps closer.
“You know what I think?” he murmurs. “I think you like having this between us. It’s why you can’t let it go.”
My jaw tightens. “Fuck you,” I whisper hoarsely.
The fucker is still smiling. “You willingly came to that dinner that night, Yelena. So eagerly, too.”
I feel sick. Not because there's any truth to it, but because I recognize it as a thing abusers say. Knowing that doesn't make it any less nauseating, though.
He sighs, like he’s annoyed. “I know you're still thinking about that night. About me. Maybe that's why you're still here talking to me.”
I SHOULD be walking away. Better yet, running. But my feet won’t move, and part of that is because I know I’m alone with a predator.
Not a hunter like Achilles.
A predator.
And you don't turn your back on one of those.
He sighs and lifts a shoulder. “Don’t come here looking for me again, Yelena. You and I have nothing more to talk about, and this conversation is over.”
When he’s gone, I close my eyes as I draw in a haggard breath, trying to shake off the rage and fear and shame.
I hate how helpless this asshole makes me feel. How pathetic. How weak. Worse, I’d finally come up with that plan to leave murder evidence in his old room at Kingsward…and nothing came of it.
No police response. No Kyle in jail.
