Only For The Professor's Pleasure

EVELYN'S POV

"You think you're better than me?"Melvin asked me with his voice slightly raised.

But I kept my eyes on my magazine and said nothing.

"I'm talking to you Evelyn!"He fired at me whilst shoving me.

"I heard you" I replied without looking up.

"Then answer me!" He snapped at me then he snatched the magazine from my hands and flung it across the room. "All this reading, all these degrees, all this grammar. Who are you acting up for?"

"I never said I was better than you" I said quietly trying to keep my cool.

"You don't have to say it. I see it every day. That look you give me like I'm nothing."

"What look Melvin, i was just sitting here reading" i finally looked up at him.

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid."

"I'm not talking to you like anything, I was just reading, that's all" I said, keeping my voice flat.

He laughed and shook his head. "You and this your reading. You know what your problem is? You think because you have a few certificates on a wall that makes you something special. That makes you better than the man that feeds you."

"You don't feed me" I shot back at him. "I feed myself."

Before I could get up he grabbed my hair and the chair went sideways. I made that sound before I could stop it.

"Stop please!" I grabbed his wrist with both hands. "You're hurting me!"

"Say it again," he said. "Go ahead."

"Melvin please—"

"Say it again. Tell me I don't feed you."

"I didn't mean it like that—" my voice broke.

"Yes you did," he said. "That's exactly what you meant Evelyn."

"Melvin i'm sorry okay, i'm sorry just stop please—"

"You're always sorry," he said. "Every time same sorry. Is it sorry that puts food on this table?"

"Melvin—"

"Does sorry pay the rent?"

"No" I whispered.

"So what is sorry doing for me right now."He growled and shoved me so hard that I landed on my back close to the kitchen.

He stumbled to the couch with a look on his face that screamed satisfaction. He was mumbling something I couldn't hear and passed out mid sentence, one shoe on one shoe off.

I stayed on the kitchen floor with my back against the cabinet, knees up, two fingers on my cheekbone.

For seven years. I had endured all this pain and suffering from him.

He used to be different. Before he started gambling and taking drugs, he couldn't stay a day without getting high and drinking turned him into someone i didn't recognize anymore.

I used to be different too. I had my Masters degree. I had dreams and plans. I was supposed to be lecturing in big halls and publishing research and travelling for conferences. Not hiding money under a floorboard and praying every morning he wouldn't find it.

I looked at the ring on my finger then at him on the couch.

That night I made my decision.

---

He woke up the next morning groaning and holding his head as if he was the victim.

"Coffee," he groaned. "Please."

I placed the mug in front of him without a word. I never did say anything the morning after to avoid another scene.

"Are you heading out today?" I asked.

"Yeah. Meeting the guys" he replied, not looking at me.

"Okay. Be careful."

He looked at me for the first time that morning. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said with a shrug.

"You sure? You seem quiet."

"I'm always quiet Melvin," I replied simply.

He watched me for a second. "You're not still upset about last night are you?"

"No. I'm fine "I said again trying to assure him with the look on my face.

"Good." He grabbed his keys off the counter. "I'll be back before nine."

"Okay."

"Don't cook. I'll bring something back."

"Okay Melvin" I said softly.

He left and the door shut behind him like always.

I waited after he was gone and counted to sixty. Then I went to the bedroom, dropped to my knees near the wall and lifted the loose floorboard.

The envelope was still there.

I held it for a second. Weeks of skipping meals. Weeks of hiding two dollars at a time from grocery money. Weeks of yes Melvin and of course Melvin and smiling with an empty face.

I opened it. It wasn't much but it was enough.

I packed fast. Clothes, certificates, passport, the small framed photo of my parents from the nightstand. I pulled the ring off and left it on the counter.

It meant nothing now.

I took my bag to the door and stepped out and did not look back because I'd already had my mind made up.

---

"We're here ma'am" the cab driver said, watching me through the rearview mirror.

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks, "I said, blinking myself back.

I boarded the last bus leaving Havenwood just in time. Though I didn't ask where it was going because I just wanted to move far away.

When it started moving I cried. Not the quiet kind I taught myself in bathrooms so Melvin wouldn't hear. This was different. It was the kind that comes when you've been holding something for too long.

The woman across the aisle looked at me once then looked away.

I pressed my forehead to the cold window. "I'm not going back there," I whispered to nobody. "I'm not going back."

---

By the time we reached New York it was already night.

I stepped off the bus and just stood there for a minute. The city was loud and moving and nobody stopped to look at me. Nobody knew my face. Nobody knew my name. Nobody knew what I left behind six hours ago.

New York didn't know me and honestly that was the point.

On the first night I couldn't find anywhere to stay so I just walked up to one street and down another with my bag on my shoulder, taking in all the noise and the lights and the people who all seemed to know exactly where they were going.

I ended up in a twenty four hour diner somewhere on a street whose name I didn't know yet. I sat down with one cup of coffee and stayed there for three hours because I had nowhere else to be. The waitress refilled it twice without asking and didn't ask my name or where I was from or why I looked like I hadn't slept. She just refilled it and moved on and I was so grateful that I had to look away.

The second night was harder. I found a small hostel that had space but the woman at the front desk looked me up and down.

"Weekly rate is three fifty" she said flatly.

I did the maths quickly. "Do you have anything cheaper?"

She looked at me again. "How long are you staying?"

"I don't know yet," I said honestly.

She shook her head. "Then get out because I can't help you."

I hurriedly walked back out into the night with my bag to avoid any form of embarrassment.

I was not going to cry again. I had already cried on the bus and that was enough.

On the third day I tried three more places. Two were full. One wanted a deposit I didn't have.

"Come back when you have it," the man behind the counter said without even looking up from his phone.

I wanted to say something back but I didn't.

By evening my feet were done and my head was worse. I was starting to wonder if I had made a terrible mistake leaving without a better plan.

But then I thought about how everything was going horrible, not the way I planned.

No. It wasn't a mistake.

I just needed one thing to go right. Just one.

And that was when I met Anya.