Page 2 of Unwrapping Ember

“It'll beover real soon, Ember.I promise,” he coos directly in my ear as he shoves my legs open and settles between them, keeping me pinned to the bed with the weight of his body.

I feel his cock rubbing against me, and I cringe, feeling the vomit churning in my stomach as he presses even harder against me. Closing my eyes tightly, a sharp, burning pain has them shooting open as he finally pushes his cock into me. My back arches and my legs flail to try to get him off of me one more time, but he refuses to budge, thrusting into me and ripping my tight, virgin muscle with the roughness of his brutal movements.

The tears fall from my eyes heavily, soaking my cheeks. But he doesn't care. He grunts and groans, thrusting away without a care in the world, while I lie here helpless, bloody, and sobbing beneath him, not sure how much longer this hell is going to last.

I'm not sure how much time passes with him on top of me, but to me it feels like an eternity. By the time he gets up and pulls his clothes back on, the tears have dried from my eyes, and I've lost my voice from screaming. The sheet beneath me is drenched in blood—along with my inner thighs—and all he does is throw me a wet rag and make me clean myself up.

"Keep your fucking mouth shut, Ember. If you speak about this to anyone and risk me losing my scholarship, I'll make your life a living fucking hell." He glares at me with threatening eyes as I clean myself up, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

Thinking he's going to leave now that he got what he wanted, I'm shocked when all he does is stand by the door, fully dressed, his eyes piercing into my soul as I sit up in bed. I can feel his presence suffocating me, like a dense fog that won’t lift. The weight of his threat hangs heavy in the air, curling around me like a noose. I look down at the rag in my hands, stained and threatening to mark my spirit just as deeply as my body.

"Did you fucking hear me?" His voice cuts through the silence, sharp enough to slice through flesh.

Instinctively, I nod, even though the gesture feels like a betrayal of everything I am—everything I believe, everything I was taught.

“Good,” he says, his lips curling into a smug smirk. “Because you know I can make your ass disappear.”

I want to scream, to lash out, to tell him that he doesn’t own me, that I’m not his plaything. But the words coil in my throat, each syllable weighed down by fear. He turns to face the door, and I feel a flicker of hope, a spark that maybe he'sreallyleaving. But then he stops, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Ember?” His tone is casual, as if we’re merely engaged in small talk, not entangled in a nightmare. “You might want to think about how this could affect your life too. No one will believe you. I’m a star athlete. You’re just…you.” The smirk returns, and I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his eyes, not wanting to seem weak.

As he steps out, the door clicks shut behind him, trapping me in a silence that feels like a stone in my gut. In the quiet, I finally let the tears fall freely again, staining the rag and the sheets, but this time they’re not just remnants of pain; they’re a promise to myself.

I might be isolatedand scared, but I refuse to let him or his actions define me. He may have taken something from me—something fundamental—but I still have my mind, my will, my determination.

I push myself up from the bed, the bloodied sheets crumpling beneath me, and I take a deep breath. I gather my resolve and step away from the remnants of what just happened. I’ll wash the sheets; I’ll wash the rag. I’ll scrub until my skin is raw if I have to. But even I know that nothing I do will erase the brutal reminder of what just happened—what he did to me.

I look one last time at the door through which he escaped—no, not escaped, but rather scurried like a fucking coward—because it’s his fear, not mine, that keeps him at bay.

I take the rag and toss it into the nearest trash can, as if discarding that part of my life along with it. Putting my dress back on and leaving my torn underwear behind, I fix my appearance as best I can and slip out of the room to rejoin the chaos.

Holding my breath and my tears in, I frantically search for Bella, just wanting to leave—to run away from this nightmare and never look back. I make it through the house without bumping into anyone, finally spotting Bella near the door with a drink in her hand, talking to one of his teammates.

Once she sees me, she smiles, happily waving me over. I rush up to her, looping my arm through hers and holding it tightly as if she'll be able to save me from whatever hell still lies ahead. But I know she can't.

Sensing the fear in my eyes and the horror etched into my face, she pulls me outside and faces me, cupping my tear-stained cheeks in her warm hands.

"Ember, what happened?" she asks, her voice heavy with concern.

"We need to go," I tell her firmly, shaking, but not because of the cold.

"What happened, Em? Something happened, and I need to know what." She looks into my eyes, pleading with me to tell her, but I can't.

I can't bring myselfto say it.

Instead, I pull out of her embrace and I run, my feet slapping against the pavement, wind blowing my matted hair behind me, and I don't stop until I reach the safety of my apartment.

one

Christmas Break

A few months later

Ember

Ican feel his gaze piercing into the back of my head as he sits behind me, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. I stifle a shiver and focus intently on the clock, counting down the minutes until the bell rings—the start of Christmas break.

My professor drones on about safety and a myriad of other topics that filter through my mind like water through a sieve; I find it impossible to concentrate on his words.