Jane's POV
"Jane," I hear him knock on the bathroom door.
I want him gone. He is as much a jerk as Professor Rafael. Nothing good comes from being involved with someone like that.
Who the hell judges someone like that for being a virgin?
It's not my fault. I wasn't all pretty in high school. That's just what happens when you grow up Catholic. I didn't believe much in God. But my parents did.
When you grow up with God fearing parents, you end up becoming what they want you to be. And in my household, wasn't societal respect much more important than individual existence?
My mother had no trouble kicking me out for underage drinking. Then they tell me years later that I might have murdered people.
My only respite in the circus of craziness was Dr. Phil. The prescription drugs weren't so bad. The judgement was. I left my parents' house. But there's just something so immaculate about childhood trauma.
It never really leaves you.
"I don't want to talk to you! Leave my apartment," I cried from the inside.
It's my apartment to be fair. He had no business making me cry, staying here. All of this seemed like a mistake.
There's this thing where life fucks you raw. And then there's this thing where you get to a point where it doesn't bother you.
It seemed to me that I hadn't grown quite that resilient. If anything, I wanted to open the bathroom door and punch the man in the face. Maybe even make him bleed a little.
"Jane, I told you everything. You have no reason to be mad. Don't be mad at me," he yelled.
Of course. Leave it up to a guy to tell me how to feel. Wasn't he the one who put me in a box because I was a virgin? Whose fucking fault was that?
"You are an asshole, but I would settle with a mean bastard for now. Don't make me call the cops!"
"Open the door. I swear I won't do anything. I just want to have one good look before I leave you to your own devices," he says.
Of course.
Slowly, I open the door. I watch his long, loose hair framing his perfect face. His obnoxious nose and his enticing lips. God. If only he had given this man a little bit of personality.
Looking at him was like looking at some Greek God. Only that the Greek God was Eros, but with Zeus' personality. The catch? He seemed like a man whore. Dicky slut. Or whatever.
"I have no respect for you. I hope you know that!" I told him, and his lips pursed together.
"Fine. I deserve this. But don't freak out-"
"Freak out? I am not even your fucking girlfriend. You kissed me four times. Five times. Showed up at my apartment. And you acted like a whacko when I told you I was a virgin!" My anger seemed no bounds.
"Yes, and yes. I see my shortcomings. Come on, Jane. I am not a perfect man. If I was a perfect man, why would I date you?" He shrugged.
"Excuse me?"
This was an INSULT. All caps.
"Yeah. You're not exactly a Princess either. You should be glad. Is there any asset that I lack?" He refurbished.
"Yes. It's called a personality. And I bet you also have a very small-"
He pulls me with sheer strength and pushes me onto the bathroom door.
"This is very creepy. Leave me, this instant," I warned him.
"I won't let you comment on a dick, when I know you have never seen one," he challenged.
"And who's to say I haven't? I might be a virgin but I might have done other things," I looked him in the eye.
Of course, I was bullshitting. I had never seen one. Heck, if I see one now I might faint.
"Pray tell me how are you still a virgin if you have seen a dick?" He asks.
"Small. All of them," I cleared my throat, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.
"It's not the size. It's what you do with the size," he tells me.
"Of course you would say that. That's what they all say when they have small ones," I shot back.
"Fucking let me go!" I barked. I know I had made some bad decisions. But this won't be another one.
"Very quickly, I would show you mine. And then you'll know that I don't have a small one. In fact, it would be so marvellous, it would be all you will ever think of!" He smirks.
"Dude. What era do you live in? Do you think it's the 80's or something? Your dick isn't a gift to mankind. Just in case..."
Before I could say more, he grabbed a fistful of my hair.
"You naive girl. You have no fucking idea what my dick can do!"
I didn't want to know anything! This man was a fucking creep.
"I was so wrong about you. The long coat. The long hair. The weird glasses. I should have known you are like those serial killers. And now I have led you to me," I shuddered at the thought.
If what mom thought about me had an ounce of truth, maybe... I knew how to kill people. Because I really wanted to kill this one here.
"I am going to be nice, and you are going to be a good girl. Okay, Vanya?" Her sneers.
Who the fuck is Vanya?
"I am not Vanya. I am Jane," God. Not only is he a serial killer who hints female students. He is also someone who fucks them to fulfill his weird fantasy.
One of his hands push me to the wall, while the other one reaches for his zipper.
In what world is this not a red alarm?
My phone rang on my bed. A large thud banged on the front door.
"Open up! You are surrounded," the cops were here. I could hear the sirens blaring. My eyes met Professor Hank's. And then...
I felt something of a shock ride through me.
With great strength I pushed him down on the floor. My head felt dizzy as I climbed over, and wrapped fingers around his throat.
"Why don't you go and fuck yourself, Theodore? Because of you, I can't even fucking stay here in peace. Tell me, were we ever friends?" The voice mocks him, as he struggles to breathe.
"At least you know what my dick feels like, don't you?"
"You imbecile! I will have your crushed," I sneered.
"Seriously? A virgin's body. Saving yourself for my bastard of a brother? Versailles will kill you," he laughed maniacally.
My vision was blurry. All I could make out was the....
Crash.
"Put your hands in the air, and do not move," someone barked the instructions. But I couldn't breathe. Shaking, I rolled onto the floor and my head hit something hard.