Part of me still wants to do it for those good reasons. That’s the part of me that won’t stop—it’s like this voice I can hear that’s always telling me to butt in and says the ends justify the meanness. Then there’s the rest of me that feels awful about the whole thing, but doesn’t want to let him go, so she just lets that voice justify everything even though I’m really doing it because I like being with him.
It feels like I’m pulling myself in two, kind of, like there’s these two sides to him and they’re each pulling me in a separate direction, and both of the directions are towards him. There’s the part of him that I saw at his home, and with Ashley (don’t worry, not turning this entry into another rant about her). That DJ is thoughtless and mean and selfish, and that bitch (sorry but TRUE) just makes him a hundred times worse. Like I’ve said a dozen times I know he doesn’t think he’s doing any harm, and I know I’m as guilty as anyone else for not telling him. Any more I get the impression most of the bad stuff is her pushing him to do it anyway and he does it for her. Most if it, anyway.
Then there’s the other DJ, the one I see when we’re together. The one who looks at me with love in his eyes, who wants to hold me. When we just lie there and talk. This morning we met in the shower again and he just spooned me and caressed me and when we had sex I felt like the whole rest of the world didn’t exist. I felt completely safe. When I finally started to get pruny and said we should go, he asked me if I would stay with him just a few more minutes. Asked, not told, when we both know he could have told.
If we were together, would he still want all those other girls? Would I still be enough? I don’t know. It would be fine if he did—but I don’t even trust myself any more to know if that’s how I feel or how his power makes me feel. Most of it is harmless anyway—none of the girls really mind whatever he does behind closed doors. It’s just when things get all public I feel bad. Maybe I could stop that. Maybe I could make him just want me, like I just want him. I don’t know.
I just hate what it’s turning me into, and I feel guilty every time he touches me because I know I’m manipulating him and I’m doing it because I’m afraid of him and because I want him at the same time. I can’t tell him, but I can’t stop touching him either.
When he finished reading, he looked over to Brittney, whose baby blues were brimming with anxious tears. “Do you hate me?” her tremulous voice asked.
“Hate you? Brittney…” He wanted to say a hundred things, but first, more than anything, he wanted her to know how he felt. Finally those feelings from hours ago in her bedroom caught up with him. Gently, he tilted her chin up and kissed her. Their arms wrapped around one another as they sunk to the bed, their lips not parting again.
“Get a room you two,” Mercedes said. They hadn’t even noticed her coming in, they’d been so intent on one another. Glancing at the clock, he saw they’d been making out for most of an hour.
Brittney grinned bashfully as she sat up, tugging her shirt back into place. “Heya, girl. Have a good break?”
“Do you really wanna talk about my break or do you two wanna keep going at it like wild young Bohemians? ’Cause you can do what you gotta do, but there’s also a nice vacant room a few doors down. Just sayin’.”
DJ laughed. “We can get out of your hair. That is, if you still want to Brittney.”
“I want to.” He couldn’t help it. He kissed her again.
“You two are seriously gross,” Mercedes said, but she was smiling. Almost as big as the two of them.
“We’re going, we’re going,” Brittney reassured her, rising and tugging DJ in her wake towards his own room. She resumed making out with him right there in the hall as he fumbled with his keys to open the door, throwing it open as soon as he managed it. He launched himself into her, pressing her hard against the wall in the dark room, shirts and pants flying off in their mutual frenzy to touch one another.
DJ was down to his boxers, Brittney to her bra and panties, before he couldn’t wait any more and threw her to the bed. He was readying to pounce when she screamed.
“Brittney?! What’s wrong?” In the darkened room, she was scrambling away from him to where the bed was pushed up against the wall. He couldn’t see her face, but something obviously was wrong. He ran to the light switch and flipped it on.
There on the bed was Emily. The sheets and blanket were pulled up to her chin, but her eyes were closed. From her position, it was clear that when he’d pushed Brittney onto the bed, he’d landed on her. Seeing who it was, she began to relax. Only…
She wasn’t moving.
“Emily?” he asked softly. If Brittney’s weight falling on her hadn’t awakened her, his voice certainly wouldn’t. He sat down beside her, shaking her gently. She didn’t stir, and he shook harder. “Emily? Emily, wake up.”
Brittney’s eyes slowly widened in comprehension as DJ started patting her pale cheeks with increasing urgency. “Emily, wake up! EMILY!” He slapped with increasing urgency, but her head just lolled to the side limply. Throwing the blankets back all the way, there was no more wondering.
Both of her wrists had long cuts down them; with the blanket no longer holding it in, the stench of her blood filled the room. He put his ear to her chest to listen for a heartbeat. She was cold to the touch.
DJ looked to Brittney numbly. “She’s dead.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brittney was impressed with how well DJ held it together. She herself had been on the edge of screaming or crying for hours, ever since she’d literally stumbled upon the body. Emily’s body.
He’d stood there numbly at first, then took Brittney by the hand and helped her out of the bed without further disturbing Emily. They’d gotten dressed, feeling awkward being naked in front of… that. Her. It had been while Brittney was looking for where her shirt had wound up that she’d found the letter. The envelope had DJ’s name on it; she quietly pointed it out to him and stood back while he read. Trying not to throw up, or run from the room. Or both.
When he’d finished, he just folded the letter back up and put it on his desk. After another long, numb look at her, he’d gone ahead and called the police. After that, it all happened fast. Some paramedics had come and taken the body, the police had questioned DJ and her separately. She didn’t really know what to say, so she just told them that Emily was a co-worker of his who he’d been sleeping with and that they’d broken up last week. Other than giving this pretty new face in his room a wry look, they accepted it without a lot of questioning; it was the kind of thing that happened sometimes. His power didn’t even seem to come into it that she could tell.
He’d called his boss, a blonde woman with a bit of an accent Brittney couldn’t place, who arrived soon after. The woman was crying when she walked in, and didn’t ever really stop. She’d offered to let him move into another room, but he said all he needed was a new mattress. They’d gotten it together from the supply closet, and DJ hauled the old one out to the dumpster himself.
There was so much blood on it. She wouldn’t have believed a person could bleed so much.
Worried about how such an event could impact the floor—they’d all seen plenty of Emily around, after all—DJ was holding an emergency floor meeting to tell everyone what had happened. (After all, they’d seen medics leaving with a body bag; he’d have to tell them something just to prevent a panic.) Brittney sat there only half-listening as he told them, mentioned the campus counseling center, offered to talk if anyone needed to.
Brittney barely heard it, laying her head on Mercedes’ shoulder and losing herself in the feelings. She wasn’t in shock, exactly; finding the body had been jarring, to say the least. But that the body was there to be found… she wished it surprised her more. Part of the reason she’d reached out to Emily last week had been fear for the girl’s well-being. She’d always struck Brittney as a bit unhinged—her bizarre behavior, how cagey she’d been when Brittney had tried to approach her. Then after their conversation, when she’d learned how damaged her poor mind had been, how bleak her outlook still was…