Free Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) by Erica Chilson Page B

behind me. I don’t want my alone time witnessed. I need to get this makeup off and my clothes puts to rights. I’m thankful that I wore an undershirt because my blouse is torn wide open. Fate’s sexy thigh highs are shredded. No need to worry about showing the goods when I cross my legs at my desk, because my ass was on display to everyone watching. I’m never wearing lacy underthings again.
    I scrub my face free of makeup and drying blood. Last week’s bruises are yellowing around the edges. Sadly, no new bruises are cropping up. I hope that everyone here isn’t used to wounds and won’t notice the difference. My hands are the worst of my injuries. They will take weeks to heal. Acrylic nails against skin, not a fair fight. Next time, I’m yanking their nails off and shoving them down their whining throats. They shouldn’t get to fight with weapons.
    I go bare-legged. I tuck my ripped blouse into my skirt. Since I’m smaller, the blouse overlaps, covering my body. I unroll the waist of my skirt. No need to show off my legs, they’ve seen the show. I finally look my age and I’m pleased with that.
    I look into the mirror and the person gazing back isn’t me. I refuse to be this person. I won’t seduce. I won’t dress in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I won’t lie down and take a beating ever again. If Wil don’t like it, he can slap me around some more. I ain’t guaranteeing that I won’t strike him back, either.
    From this moment on, I’m behaving in the only way I know how. I will pretend I’m my sister around Wil, but my behavior won’t change. And I don’t give a flying fuck if Wil likes it or not.
     
    ~Chapter Seven~
    Unlike last school year, I’m not invisible anymore. Everywhere I go, they’re all staring at me like I’m a bug under a magnifying glass- waiting for me to get fried by the Sun. Just like last school year, they avoid me like the plague. Everyone winces when they look at my face. Hate to tell them, it was Wil that marked me up real good.
    I’d hoped to have a class with Cortez, but no such luck for first and second period. He’s in a bunch of language arts courses, obviously not my strong suit. I’d rather learn things that will help me in the future. I listened around, Cort fancies himself a writer. Well… we officially have nothing in common. I do like to read, so that’s a positive.
    I’m smart. I know why something is the way it is; I just can’t seem to put it into practice. I have an impressive 4.3 grade average. During English, my essays are perfect. If I could only get my mind and mouth to agree before the ignorant words erupt. Practice makes perfect. I’m never going back to West Virginia, so I might as well fit in with the natives. I will overcome this huge obstacle.
    One constant during the first half of my day was Boyd. The boy was everywhere I went. When I’d look him in the eyes, he wouldn’t look away. I think he has a perverse need to have staring contests with me - contests he always lets me win. I’ve looked at him so much today that I swear when I look in the mirror, I’ll see his face staring back at me. I may be smart, but not smart enough to be in senior classes. I don’t know what Boyd is up to, but no way is he in my sophomore classes. Not one single teacher batted an eyelash. He walked in every class I have and sat right next to me. I was his sole focus. It was unnerving as all hell.
    Boyd’s not a big guy for an eighteen-year-old. He’s five and half feet tall and kind of scrawny. If genius had a specific look, Boyd would come to mind. He’s not unattractive- muted and unassuming. A mop of brown curls, huge blue eyes, and a soft face greet you when you see past his invisibility.
    Never touching me, he’s taken my books, my bag, walked me to the bathroom, and even outlined the fading bruises on my face. Not one word has been spoken between the two of us. After second period, I accepted that Boyd was my shadow. Even now, he sits at the