Sheila’s POV
“Tomorrow, Sheila. You won’t be able to walk.”
His words haunted me the rest of the night.
Through the walk back to my dorm. Through the shower where I pressed my thighs together so tight it hurt. Through the restless hours tangled in sheets that smelled faintly of detergent and shame.
By morning, I was already shaking. Not from fear. From the ache he’d planted in me and left to fester.
I told myself I wouldn’t go to class. I told myself I could avoid him.
But I went.
Because some part of me wanted to see if he’d keep his word.
And of course, he did.
The lecture was a blur. I barely heard a word. Every time I dared glance his way, he was already watching me, lips curved in that knowing smirk, like he could see straight through me.
When the bell finally rang, I moved
