The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle (New Adult BDSM Erotica) by Eden Myles

would take too long. What if Myles blew off my advice and tried to drive, or hurt himself while he waited for me?
    “Stef, it’s me. If you get this, I’m letting you know that Myles is in trouble and I’m picking him up outside the cafeteria. Call me back ASAP. Thanks.”
    I jumped out of bed and threw on my early-morning jogging clothes and a pair of running shoes, then went downstairs to the student p arking lot and jumped in my car. It was a quick five minute drive to the other side of the campus where the cafeteria was located, the place where we held our weekly support group meeting.
    I drove through the cafeteria parking lot, but didn’t immediately spot Myles’s car. On the second turn, I finally noticed his battered old truck parked under a burned out sodium lamp in a dark corner of the lot. It looked empty, and I realized Myles had likely gone back inside. Sighing, I pulled alongside his truck and cut the engine. When I stepped out into the lot, I immediately regretted not throwing on a jacket before I left my dorm; it was early November, but it definitely felt like snow tonight.
    Huddled down in my hoodie, I raced inside the cafeteria. “Myles?” I called as the door shut pneumatically behind me. My voice echoed back to me. The halls were dim and unoccupied. There was a serving cart in the hallway that someone had forgotten, and the big corkboard where students hung notices about new groups and clubs, but I saw no trace of Myles.
    “Myles!” I called louder. A part o f me started to panic. I thought about calling his sister and telling her that Myles was likely in trouble, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to involve her just yet. I’d likely be waking her up, panicking her, and I had no idea if there was anything to be panicked about.
    I checked the cafeteria, saw it was empty, then let the swinging door s fall shut. I started down the corridor toward the north wing of the college that eventually led to the gymnasium and shop and automotive classrooms. I desperately hoped Myles hadn’t gone down to shop to maybe find a tool to commit self-harm with, and the thought frightened me. I knew how desperate someone like Myles could feel, how helpless and out of control.
    T he corridors were dim and empty. Most nights, there was security guard walking the grounds and you could see him right outside the windows as he paroled the student parking lot. But tonight I didn’t see anyone. I stopped and called, “Myles?” but received no answer, so I kept going until I reached the gym.
    I stopped to peek inside. I saw the shadowy outlines of the horses and balancing beams the gymnasts used during the day, but no Myles. I kept going until I reached Shop and Automotive. The corridor was longer and even darker here, with fewer lights and doors on both sides, some leading to the shop and woodworking classes, some leading to the outside automotive garages. I opened the ones that were unlocked, called into them.
    “M yles, where are you?” I called much louder, growing both irritated and concerned.
    An outside door slammed in the long corridor behind me and I automatically whirled around. “Myles? Are you there? Myles !”
    I could hear footsteps echoing from just around the last bend. I started that way, wondering what kind of sick joke this was, and why Myles wasn’t answering me, but as I closed in on the footsteps, Clark suddenly stepped out into the corridor to face me.
    I stopped and looked at him, told myself this couldn’t be, even as a wave of nausea overwhelmed me for a moment.
    “Just couldn’t stay away, could you, bitch?” he said.
    “Are you following me?” I cried, surprised by the rage in my voice. I was scared and alone, but, finally, mad as hell. I was tired of being afraid of Clark. Tired of Clark running my life this way.
    “I h ad to make certain you and Christa weren’t running your big, fat mouths!”
    “I’m not here for Christa! You go home and leave me alone!”
    “You talking to her,