9
Peter
Sara avoids me until lunchtime, which is just as well. My self-control is fraying, the darkness clawing to the surface. I want to f**k her, and at the same time, I want to subjugate and punish her, make her understand that she is mine.
I want to take her to the edge and bring her over, no matter what it might do to her.
“Don’t do it, man,” Ilya says quietly as I finish slapping together Sara’s sandwich. He’s making his own sandwich next to me. “Whatever you’re thinking about, you’ll regret it.”
I bare my teeth in a humorless smile. “Really? You’re a f*****g psychic now?”
“No, but I don’t think you’re thinking straight. She doesn’t deserve this.” He dips a butter knife into a jar of mayonnaise. “The least you can do is give her a little time.”
I picture grabbing the knife and
