Chapter 12

twelve

Avery

I'm sitting in my emergency medicine class with Professor Whitmore. This is my least favorite class; not only is Melanie and her clique in this class, but the professor gives me the creeps. He has the same vibe as the men in my foster homes growing up, so I try to stay off his radar. He's managed to corner me once but before he could touch me, I shoved him away and told him I'm late for another class. Since then, I'm never alone with him, I make sure of it; I've never met his gaze and always look down when around him.

I'm writing down the stuff from the board when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn and see Sara, one of Melanie's friends whose dyed blonde hair has gone wrong because it's a bright ginger. Her makeup's overly done, and she is dressed in a tight dress.

She sneers at me, "Do you know how lucky you are? That man of yours is fine. Why he'd want you I don't know."

I keep my face blank while on the inside I want to claw her eyes out. Every time I have class with someone from Melanie's circle, they comment about how lucky I am and how I'm not good enough for him. It's starting to get annoying. They never paid attention to me until they saw Sergi. Before then, Melanie was always nice in passing, but looks can be deceiving, though.

Finally snapping, I decide to say fuck it.

I smile sweetly and say, "No, Sara, he's lucky to have me." Then I turn around to continue writing down our assignments, leaving her shocked. I'm the quiet, shy girl, who doesn't like conflict, which I am. Growing up in foster care teaches you to keep to the shadows, but it's just, there's only so much a person can take.

Melanie leans over, and I sigh. "Yes, Melanie?"

She looks me up and down, and says, "You know you two won't last, right? He'll move on soon enough."

I snort and turn toward her, raising a brow, looking her up and down like she did to me. How is this chick in med school? Just like Sara, she's in a short, tight dress that shows way too much cleavage for school, high heels, and full makeup on her face. Her hair is in a high ponytail on top of her head. She literally looks like she's ready for clubbing, not school. Her wardrobe has been getting showier since Sergi started picking me up, and my jealousy spikes. He's mine, I'm bound for him just like he's bound for me. I decide then and there to finally put her in her place like Sergi suggested.

"Despite it being over four months, you mean?" Her eyes widen in shock at my sneered response, but I continue, "Because last I checked, it's me in his bed at night, me he messages constantly throughout the day. It's also me he's trying to move in with him, and it's me he picks up whenever he can get out of work." Her face goes red, while her friends stare at me in shock. "And it was you he dissed when you kept overstepping, because he wasn't interested in you. He loves me, not you. Back off and find someone who wants you, and leave the people who are in loving relationships alone. We're not in high school anymore, so grow up." I turn back around and continue taking notes, proud of myself for standing up for me and Sergi. It took me years to get to a place where I can stand up for myself without the fear of being hit in response.

As the professor calls the end of class, Melanie storms out, her clique trailing behind her, making me smile. As I gather my things, I notice that she left her phone, but for once I'm going to be petty. I shrug and leave it. I head to the door when my name is called, making me still.

"Ms. Taylor-Gibson, can I have a word please?"

I quickly grab my phone from my pocket and put it on record, because years in foster care and no one believing me taught me one thing: always have proof. I turn to see what he wants. Everyone else has left so it's just me and my professor.

Professor Whitmore looks me up and down, leering at me, making me uncomfortable. I don't get any closer than a few feet away from him; this isn't my first rodeo with scumbags. I wait for him to finally meet my gaze and tell me what he wants. I take a good look at him for the first time. He's only been my teacher for about six months; he transferred in, and I never really took the time to properly look at him. He looks like the foster father I had before the Gibson's took me in and made me their daughter. My pulse spikes when I see the similarities to Ben. Brown hair slicked back, and brown eyes that're full of hate when they meet mine. I step back a bit, and he grins, looking deranged.

"I see you finally made the connections; I have a proposition for you, Avery." I shake my head and take a step back as he sneers, "You need to go to the police and tell them you lied about my brother, you were confused, he doesn't deserve to be in prison because you couldn't keep your legs closed."

My face goes molten, and I shout out, "Keep my legs closed? At nine years old? He hit me with a baseball bat, he tried to rape me. He deserves to rot!"

Whitmore moves quick, so quick he takes me by surprise when he grabs me by my hair and throws me on the floor, kicking me hard in my stomach. I cough, then scream when he kicks me in the stomach three more times. I cough up some blood.

I hear someone scream out, "Oh my God!"

Several feet stomp into the room before Melanie leans over me, pressing her hand to my cheek as tears fill her eyes. I cough again as more blood appears, my body in agony. My breathing is shallow, and I know he's broken a rib, I'm pretty sure of it. It's the same pain from when Ben did the same thing. Whitmore possibly nicked my lung, which would explain the lack of oxygen and blood in my mouth.

I give Melanie my phone from my white knuckled grip. She furrows her brows and looks at it then gasps when she sees I've recorded everything. She nods and grabs my hand, staying close to me, which I'm grateful for.

I hear the professor shout, "She came on to me, attacking me when I wouldn't give her what she wanted!"

The dean who showed up at some point looks at me and furrows his brows, then glances back to the professor. He nods at Whitmore like he believes him, making tears fill my eyes. It's like I'm a child again, but this time I know I have a voice.

Despite the pain, I struggle to rasp out, "H-he's the brother to one of my old foster parents who is currently serving forty years for child abuse, neglect, and attempt rape of a minor. Don't believe me? Call Mrs. Reaves in Child Protective Services in Seattle."

Melanie's eyes widen at my words, realizing the hell I've been through. She squeezes my hand, her face hardening at the dean, who is still looking at me with suspicion.

She sneers, "I hope she sues this school. It's apparent you favor the faculty over the student despite the fact the student is the one who looks attacked."

She replays the recording from my phone.

The dean's face goes from pale white at her words to bright red as he listens to the recording. Mr. Whitmore pales, then charges toward me again, but the police tackle him before he can get close, handcuffing him. They drag him out of the class as he shouts, "You will get him out of prison, you little bitch. I will fucking kill you!"

I cough again, and more blood comes up. My eyes get heavy as I struggle to get oxygen.

Melanie screams, "We need an ambulance!"

The dean comes into view, worry etching his features. Shame he didn't feel like that two minutes ago, though. Melanie looks at me, tears filling her eyes again.

"Don't c-call Sergi."

Tears falling from her eyes are the last thing I remember seeing.

I wake up to beeping.

I groan and move my head. There's something warm on my hand. I open my eyes, squinting because of the light. I look to my right and see Melanie sitting next to me, her makeup is a mess, and her hair is all over the place.

I rasp, "Hey."

Tears well up as she whispers, "The police have your phone for the recording, but I messaged Sergi pretending to be you. I told him you were going away for a week on a girl's trip. Said you wanted to try and make friends. He texted back, saying he loves you and how proud he is that your being the bigger person, and to-to call him if-if there's any problems." She sobs, and I squeeze her hand. She looks at me again.

"I know why you didn't want him here because I wouldn't, either. You haven't told him you were abused in the foster system, and I never told anyone, either." My eyes widen in shock as more tears fall from her eyes. "When I was seven, I was adopted by a wealthy family, but before that, I was moved from home to home, being beaten and starved. They never tried to rape me but…." She shrugs.

I murmur, "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

She nods. "I'm sorry you had to as well. I thought you grew up privileged, a-and I took my anger out on you, because never has a man like Sergi looked at me like he looks at you. I thought you had it all, but you don't, and you were right, he is lucky to have you." She leans forward and hugs me gently.

Crying, I whisper, "It's okay, it's okay."

She nods and pulls back, wiping her eyes. "You had to have emergency surgery; he broke a rib that nicked your lung, but you'll make a full recovery. You'll just have to tell Sergi that you fell…if you're not ready to tell him your past." I nod, I knew the kicks did some damage. "The dean was suspended after several students came forward, stating he just stood there not helping you, believing a teacher after he attacked you. They started an investigation. Apparently, Professor Whitmore doesn't even have a degree."

My eyes widen at her words.

I whisper, "Shit," realizing the dean didn't do a thorough check on the man. She nods.

There's a knock at the door. I expect to see a doctor, but I gasp in surprise as Mrs. Reeves walks in. She has tears in her eyes, and mine fill quickly. She smiles at Melanie, then walks over to the other side of my bed and takes a seat on the edge. She places a hand on my cheek and lets out a sob.

Guilt builds quickly, and I rasp, "How'd you find me?"

She shakes her head. "I've kept tabs on Ben Whitmore since he attacked you. I've been searching for you for the last seven years, Avery. I needed to make sure you were okay."

Tears fall down my cheeks. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head again and leans forward, kissing my forehead.

"I know why you ran after Tony passed away." She shakes her head. "Eight homes. I placed you in eight homes after you lost your mother, and that's how many homes failed you. That's how many times I failed you. You were starved, beaten, and used for child pornography. Ben would have raped you; he was selling you to child traffickers. The Gibsons became your everything, then Natalie passed, and Tony was the only family you knew. He was your world, and he died in your arms when you were only sixteen." She takes a deep breath, and my tears fall faster as she continues, "I had a feeling you would run. It was why I was trying to find you a home, a good home. I just didn't expect you to run at Tony's funeral. I have been so worried about you."

I hear Melanie sob. She was wearing a mask every day. The mean girl fa?ade was just that, a fa?ade to hide her demons like I hide mine by sticking to the shadows.

I whisper, "I'm okay; Dad made sure I had everything I'd ever need. I'm going to be a doctor, and I'm graduating two years early. And I met someone. He's become my person, my everything. It's like we're meant to be. I'm finally happy." I sniffle but continue, "I'm sorry I worried you. I should have left a letter, but it was all a rush after Dad's heart attack. I didn't mean to worry you, but I couldn't go back into foster care, not after last time. I decided to run, and I've never been happier. This thing with Professor Whitmore…I didn't make the connection because I had been dodging him; he gave off the creep vibe like the foster parents I had. He cornered me once, but I shoved him and ran. Today was the first time I fully looked at him, and I noticed the similarities to Ben. I managed to record the whole conversation."

She nods. "The police have your phone, and hopefully, he'll be put away with his brother." I smile at her.

She stays for a little while, catching up. Before she leaves, she gives me her number, telling me to stay in touch, then hugs me gently. I look at Melanie, who hasn't stopped crying. I move over on the bed and pat it, and she climbs on and wraps her arm around me, leaning her head against mine. I fall asleep like this.

A few days later, Melanie picks me up to take me home. The police came round and took my statement, handing me my phone back, and when I mentioned who my adopted dad was, they paid their respects. Apparently, he was well known in New York, too. The doctor says I only had one broken rib, the rest were only bruised so I was lucky, and I should be back to full strength in 3-6 weeks. So the next month or so I'm going to have to come up with excuses to not see Sergi. I hate lying to him but I'm not ready to explain my childhood and how it came back to bite me on the ass. It's more than he bargained for, and I can't lose him.

Melanie drops me off at home and asks if I need help, but I shake my head, and she glares at me, causing me to chuckle.

"I'll be back tomorrow with your homework and some groceries—no complaining." I smile and nod as she helps me inside, then leaves. I think I may have made an actual friend. I shake my head, smiling, and take my phone out. I text Sergi before taking a shower to wash the hospital smell from me.

Me: I love you and miss you. xoxox

He texts back instantly, making me smile.

My Love: Not as much as I love and miss you. baby.