Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 50 I glare at the rain as it slams against my Tesla's windshield. The wipers are going full blast, but I might as well have them turned off. Water sluices down the glass, only briefly dispersed by the blades before a fresh wave ripples down. ...it's never going to stop, Bash. Never, ever, ever... My jaw clenches, teeth gritting. It wasn't raining this hard when I left home. If I knew it would come down like this, I wouldn't have⁠- A bark of laughter stabs through Chopin's nocturnes. Please. Like I had a fucking choice.

My resentful glare turns into a bemused smile as I guide my Tesla down the road. Who knew my brain could still surprise me with its little idiosyncrasies? Like pretending I'm not a slave to my urges. In that respect, I'm all too human. I couldn't have stayed home anymore than I could have stopped myself spitting into Haven's bleeding pussy. Or helping her rid herself of her familial duties. This isn't about what I want. It's about what I need. And thank God, there's a college kid in Agony Hollow who needs this as much as I do. A demonic red glow up ahead warns me of an intersection.

I stop the Tesla, shoulders hunched as I peer through the pouring rain, waiting for the light to change. This late at night, I'd barely have slowed down before speeding through, but with such poor visibility, I'd be risking someone T-boning me. Definitely shouldn't be out in this weather, but I won't suffer through a dry weekend when this rain looks like it won't let up for days still. Who knows what I'd get up to? Passages from Evelyn's manuscript keep rattling around in my head. I scavenged a few pages from the trash, those I hadn't already burned...or eaten.

Jesus, I wonder if I made Ginger Snap eat a page? There's this shard of a memory that keeps replaying, someone saying they don't like the way the paper tastes. Could have been her. Could have been me. Should have burned all of it, but I've always been a collector of oddities, among other things. Besides, there might be enough evidence in those pages for some form of litigation. All I need to do is find a lawyer willing to sue a renowned, dementia-ridden old woman. Hmm. I wonder if criminal charges are an option, too?

But then I'd have to appear in court, and the thought alone is enough to dissuade me. She'll get away with it, like she has been for decades. I park down the road from The Hollow Point. It's a short walk and an even shorter drive from campus, and I've heard they're pretty lax about carding inside. But I'm not here for the intoxicated underage students. Not tonight, anyway. A young man emerges from the alleyway beside the bar, hoodie up to ward off the rain as he scurries over to my car.

"What's up, Professor?" Corbin drawls, his fingers sliding through the gap as soon as I wind my window down far enough. I swap out my bills for the baggie between his fingers. "All good. You heard from your dad yet?" "Yeah," Corbin whines. "I told him what you said, but he's still giving me shit about dropping out." "Fuck him. Not everyone's built for college. You save up enough to get your crypto business off the ground, and he'll be the one apologizing to you." "After I pay back my student loans," Corbin mutters, then hikes a thumb over his shoulder. "It's pissing down.

I'm gonna take off." "You got an eighth on you?" "Yo, weed?" Corbin laughs, giving my window a little thump with his fist that makes my jaw clench. "Since when, Professor?" "It's for a friend." "Most def-i-nitely." He digs around in his pockets and shoves the bag through the gap in my window but flicks his hand when I try to hand him another stack of rolled-up bills. "Nah, first one's free. This shit's epic.

You-" he clears his throat dramatically "-your friend will def be back for more." He falls back, gives me an awkward half-wave that looks more like a lowkey Nazi salute, and disappears into the rain. I peel open the bag and sniff the contents, then seal it up again and toss it into my glove compartment. Sliding my phone off the wireless charging bay in the Tesla's console, I tap a small heap of coke onto the screen and cut myself two precise lines with my black Amex. I make sure no intoxicated young things are around, and duck to snort up the line with a rolled-up bill.

I lick my finger and drag it over the ghostly smudges left on my phone screen, rubbing the residue over my gums. The coke hits like a most-welcome nuclear strike. The initial whiteout devastates everything in its radius, followed by a slow bloom, like a radioactive cloud. My ears ring as warmth and light and bliss sear through every neuron in my brain. It's almost good enough to eradicate the bitter tang of chemicals coating the back of my throat, or the suddenly urgent pitter-patter of my heart. I crank up Chopin's C-sharp minor as I wait for the rain to ease.

Draping my wrist over the Tesla's steering wheel, I mimic the pianist's fingertips as I imagine them dancing over smooth ivory. Chopin wrote it as if he were already mourning his own death, every note a poor decision, or destroyed hope. Pained and tortured. How fitting. I'm practically invisible out here in the dark with the Tesla's matte black wrap, and I savor my intentional isolation as much as the numbness spreading in my gums, contrasting so deliciously with the heightened awareness of every other sense and thought. Evelyn insisted her children played at least one musical instrument.

I gravitated toward the piano, because that was something she couldn't play herself, so she fucked off and left me alone when I was practicing. My sister, Sybil, made the mistake of picking up the violin. Probably had romantic notions about it. Evelyn excelled at many things, but teaching her daughter to play the violin wasn't one of them. It's not that Sybil wasn't smart enough to learn. Evelyn just didn't have the patience to teach her. Pain stings through my finger where I'd been biting the knuckle. I rip my fist away from my mouth, pressing it against my thigh. Christ. Enough of that.

As if the universe finds my annoyance hilarious, laughter bursts out nearby. I quickly seal the drugs and toss them in my glove box, glancing aside as a pair of girls stagger toward, then fall into, a nearby car. The vehicle drives off, prompting me to start the Tesla. But I don't pull off right away, letting the car idle for a moment. If I carry on down this road and make a left, I'll be passing Haven's sorority. I could stop in for a midnight snack. It'll give her the opportunity to explain to me why the hell she thought it was a wise idea to ignore me. I know she accepted my gift.

I cloned the phone before having it delivered to her. She goes into VibeFeed a few times a day, mostly to scroll aimlessly through her feed, and every so often to reread the messages I've sent her. Updates are released by find{n}ovel.net If I can lure her downstairs without waking the other girls, I'll let her give me head in the car to make up for it. I rake a hand through my hair as I turn onto Greek Row. Despite feeling like garbage today, I made a point of showering and getting dressed in charcoal slacks and a dove gray button-up shirt.

It made me feel better for all of a second, but as soon as I saw the shattered glass of my sliding door, my mood soured again. My to-do list is growing, and everything seems like a fucking top priority. Replacing my glass door. Cleaning the neon body paint from the carpet. Getting the Tesla's upholstery steam cleaned...although I'm in two minds about whether to just replace it at this stage. The ghost of Bobby Lee-his grimy clothes, his stinking breath, his foul temperament-haunts this vehicle and is determined to stay no matter how many pine-shaped air fresheners I hang from the rearview.

I frown when I see flickering blue and red lights through the torrential downpour up ahead. It takes my frazzled mind much too long to figure out what the hell they are. By the time I do, I'm only a few yards away. I veer toward the sidewalk, ducking to peer through the windshield as I slow my car to a halt. Two police cruisers are parked outside a sorority house, one belonging to campus police, the other to the local sheriff's department. Haven's sorority. It can't possibly have anything to do with me. I'm not a fucking rookie anymore-I know how to cover my tracks. So what then?

Did someone OD again? Or was there another 'he-said, she-said' situation involving too much liquor and a couple of kids regretting the extra digit they added to their body count? The urge to sate my curiosity is strong, but I don't need the cops asking what I'm doing in Greek Row this time of night. Especially with this much marching powder and an eighth of Corbin's epic free weed in my glove box. I guide the car back onto the road and take off as fast as I dare, getting the hell out of the cops' radius before someone spots my car.

I'm about halfway down Greek Row when someone runs right in front of my car. If it hadn't been for the Tesla's ABS, the kid would be dead. The kid is Haven. She stares toward me, but not quite at me, shock writ in uppercase over her face. It's too dark for her to see my face, and raining too hard for her to even make out which car almost put her in an early grave. "The fuck are doing?" I mutter, my jaw clenching tight over the words. Out in the rain, fucking again, wearing the skimpiest clothes imaginable? Running in the street when visibility is pretty much nonexistent? She has a death wish.

Or she's the reason the cops are at the GAZ house. Must be. No other reason for her to be running. What the fuck has Haven gotten herself into? This girl will be the fucking death of me. I scowl as I kick open the car door. I honestly hope the cops can't see us down the road, because I'm going to drag her into my car, drive to the nearest hideaway, and spank some fucking sense into her. And then fuck her, for good measure. But for the second time tonight, I can't sate my curiosity, because Haven doesn't stick around to apologize for almost putting me in jail for manslaughter.

She bolts away and disappears into the rain. I fall back into my seat and slam the door. My hands are shaking when I grip the steering wheel. I'm pissed, and I don't know if it's the coke or that I scared her off. This must be how a hunter feels when he alerts the prey he's been stalking, and she slips out of his grasp. What's Haven gotten herself into? What the hell have I gotten myself into? I'm supposed to be lying low in Agony Hollow, not getting involved with mentally unstable girls and sexually repressed boys. My life was a dumpster fire before I moved here.

It's taken three years to reach some semblance of normalcy, and now I'm ready to throw it all away? I need control, not chaos. Driving away instead of trying to find out where Haven ran off to is physically painful. Something she'll pay dearly for. But I make myself do it anyway. It's not the most unpleasant thing I've been forced to do in my life. And it won't be the last.