Discarded

by Shae Banks

  There was that commanding edge to his voice again. The one he’d used in his office when he’d reprimanded me. He used it now and then, and every time it set my nerves tingling.

  I smiled and climbed out of the bath, fully aware of his eyes on me, and reached for a towel. “Are you coming?”

  “As soon as we’ve had breakfast, I should think,” he said with a soft drawl.

  I shook my head and laughed. I definitely needed something to eat, but I thrust out a hip. “Yeah?”

  He smiled a lazy smile. “Oh yes. I’m not nearly finished with you yet.”

  “You’re not done?” I asked. We’d easily worked our way through the karma sutra, I was more than surprised by his stamina but had no complaints. “What else could you possibly want to get through?”

  “Oh, you have no idea, but you’re not quite ready for what I have in mind.”

  I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips, but rather than get into what that could possibly mean I turned and went out into the bedroom, hoping he wouldn’t be far behind.

  Chapter Eleven

  I walked to the entrance and shoved the door open. The lobby was empty, the usual sound of Pat’s TV blaring not much comfort. I hadn’t really wanted to, but I knew I had to go home. Even if Johnathan had proven he wasn’t going to give up. He’d never come to my work before, and he’d turned up twice in one day. The message had been loud and clear.

  I’d done everything I could to get my message across. He wasn’t listening. Maybe Callum had been right. Maybe replacing him would be what it took.

  I unlocked the door and went inside, dropping my bag and hanging coat in the hall. It was quiet. Empty. I’d only spent four days with Callum, but it seemed that was enough to grow used to having company.

  I have no idea why, but in the crushing silence of that room I sat on the sofa and called my mom.

  She sounded concerned when she answered. “Bekah? God, is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, just thought I should get in touch. You and dad okay?”

  “Yeah. Dad’s enjoying that little drone thing you got him for Christmas. He keeps landing it on the cat, and you know how he is.”

  Moms cat was as old as god’s donkey and cranky. He hated everyone but her, and that was only because she fed him. I laughed and said, “Muffin will eat that thing and shit it out on Dad’s side of the bed.”

  “To be honest, he deserves it. Poor thing is tortured. Not working today?”

  “No, not today. I’ve had a lazy morning, and it’s looking like an early night. Are you going to the club?”

  “Yeah, same as always. You should come down and have a drink with us there.”

  Mom and Dad went to their favorite club at nine every night for as long as I could remember. Out at nine, home for eleven twenty. That was enough time for dad to drink five pints and play darts while Mum sat with her friend Mo and played bingo. Every. Night.

  “Yeah, I might do one night. I’m up for work first thing though. Today’s my only day off this week.”

  We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I knew what was coming. It was the same every time I called.

  “You wouldn’t have to work so much if you came home for a bit, love. Look for something in management.”

  And there it was.

  “Thanks, Mom, but I… You know. I just can’t be in that room.”

  She went quiet again.

  Dad never believed me. I think, deep down, she did, but it was easier to keep the peace than to push the issue of my sister’s adulterous, rapist husband.

  “I should go. I’ve got my work uniform to wash and dry, and it’ll take ages. I’ll call again soon, okay?”

  “Okay, Love. You look after yourself, and remember where we are if you need us.” The words were sincere, but the relief in her voice took something away from them.

  I ended the call and just looked at my phone.

  I sat there, alone, thinking this is it. This is my life. A family who avoided me, an ex-boyfriend who won’t piss off, and the chance of something, maybe, with someone who gave me everything I’d ever needed, but I had nothing to offer him in return. It was fucking perfect.

  I was about to go get my bag and start doing laundry when I received a message. I’d never received one from Callum before, in fact, I’d only ever had calls from him to ask me to cover shifts or to tell me the place would be closed for whatever reason. It wasn’t something I usually looked forward to. Now? Seeing his name on the screen had an entirely different effect on me.

  Everything okay?

  I replied instantly. Yeah. I’m a bit tired and this flat is too quiet.

  I’ll take that as a compliment. And yes, it’s quiet here, too, you are rather noisy.

  I didn’t need a mirror to know my face had turned scarlet. It took me a second to think of a response, and I was about to reply when I heard a key in the door.

  I froze.

  I’d half forgotten about him, the messages from Callum pulling me away from the awful reality of the life I lived.

  The mess I’d made.

  A few days freedom from Johnathan had been enough to give me a false sense of security. But that fractured with the click of the latch on the door.

  He’d secured it.

  I could still get out, but it would slow me down if I ran again.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” Johnathan said as he walked into my living room.

  There was malice in his words.

  I remembered longing to hear him coming in. I’d have given anything to hear those words more than once a week. But that was over. Any love I had for him was gone.

  What was surprising was how quickly that had happened. I had loved him. I wouldn’t have hung on if I hadn’t, but now I feared him. I feared what he would do to me.

  “I don’t want you here,” I said, getting up and heading into the kitchen. “Get out.”

  He followed. He didn’t bother to speak as he leaned against the doorframe watching me.

  I went to the fridge and took out a can of coke. “Did you bring a new contract?”

  “We don’t need one if you stop being churlish, Bekah.”

  “Do you even know what that means?” I spat, opening my drink. “You’re the one trying to manipulate me—”

  He took three strides and was on me. I dropped the can, the contents fizzing out onto the floor, and backed away. “Don’t fucking touch me, Johnathan.”

  The warning was lost to the fear that shook my voice.

  He reached out and cupped my face with his right hand, stroking my cheek with his thumb, then bent and kissed my other cheek.

  It was all wrong. The smell of his aftershave turned my stomach, my head swimming with the memory of him squeezing my throat, of the struggle to take a breath, of the pain when he hauled me around by my hair and the way he ground my wrists together when he held me down while fucking me. All I could think was he going to hurt me again, or worse, and there was no one to stop him. There was no hope of getting away. I could feel the scream building in my chest but a solid lump in my throat stopped it from escaping.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  He moved his hand, pushing his fingers beneath my ponytail as he spoke, fixing his hand behind my head.

  A few seconds passed, the can still fizzing on the floor, his hand buried in my hair, the stubble on his face pricking my cheek, and I hardly dared breathe.

  “You can’t keep me away, Bekah,” he murmured, kissing the side of my head as he used his hand to angle it to the side.

  My neck was straining, and a sob escaped. “Please...”

  He ignored me, pulling me away from the worktop and toward the kitchen door.

  I tried to grab the doorframe as I passed, but he was too strong, and my fingers barely caught hold. I don’t know when I started to cry, but the living room was a blur as he half dragged me toward the bedroom door.

  The crippling fear slipped, giving way to terror, and the scream stuck in my throat finally escaped as I k
icked out with my feet.

  With his hand trapped behind my ponytail it took him a second to free it, tearing hair as he did, and dropped me to the ground. My landing was awkward, my head hitting the floor as I failed to throw out my arms in time. It wasn’t enough to knock me out, but I was dazed and it took me a second to regain my equilibrium.

  He followed, kneeling over me, and I started screaming again.

  “Shut up.” The slap to my face shocked me into silence, and I lay still as he stroked my throbbing cheek. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  His voice had switched from angry growl to soothing apology, but it had no effect.

  “Please,” I whispered, turning my head away from him. “Please, don’t…”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.” He was stroking my face and kissing my mouth while I fought not to throw up. “I love you. Why won’t you see?”

  He continued to mutter and murmur as his hands moved lower. Stroking my chest, he ran a hand over my right breast, then my left, and the hem of my top lifted.

  I remembered what Callum had asked me. Had he touched me without consent.

  Yes. I hadn’t said it, but I had sent the signals telling him no. He didn’t listen then, and he was doing it again. Only this time I was verbally telling him no, and he wasn’t taking it as an answer. He was going to do it anyway, and there was no way I could stop him. I was trapped beneath him, locked inside my home. He could kill me, and no one would know until the following morning. Longer. No one would look for me until I missed a shift at work. Maybe even two.

  “I only ever wanted to love you,” he said, not stopping his hands from roaming. “Don’t cry. Please. I’m sorry. I just want—”

  “I don’t want you to,” I whispered, “please, don’t touch me. Please.”

  My plea went unheard.

  Until my mobile rang.

  Johnathan ignored it, tugging at the waist of my leggings. I fought to keep them up, but I lost my grip, and he tugged them as far as the knee. I tried to roll away, pressing my knees together, fighting to cover myself, to keep him away, but he was bigger. Stronger. I couldn’t hope to win that fight.

  The phone rang again.

  He roared his frustration and reached out, then looked blankly at the screen. I tugged my leggings up and rolled onto my side, trying not to vomit.

  “Answer it,” he said, thrusting it into my face.

  Swallowing the bile in my throat, I tried to focus. That was my chance to get help. If I fucked up, I was at his mercy. “H–Hello?”

  Silence at the other end.

  I tried again but my voice broke, nothing but a sob passing my lips.

  “Who the fuck was that?” Johnathan demanded, dropping the phone next to my head.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. I didn’t fucking care who it was, I just wanted him to leave. “Please… Please, stop…”

  He looked down at me, his expression unreadable. I didn’t move. I didn’t dare. I didn’t say or do a damn thing, terrified he would pick up where he left off.

  But all he did was get calmly to his feet, straighten his shirt, and walk to the door.

  I watched him leave. I listened to him unlatch the door and close it quietly behind him. I strained to hear his car start.

  When I was sure he was gone, I let the tears fall. I lay on my living room floor and sobbed until I didn’t have the strength any more.

  Exhausted, I rolled onto my side and picked up the phone, checking the missed calls.

  Callum.

  I knew I should call him back but didn’t have the strength for a conversation. I couldn’t hold myself together to hide what had just happened anyway, and he’d only insist on calling the police. Instead I typed a message.

  Sorry, I fell asleep. Going to bed. See you later in the week.

  Would he know it was a lie? I hoped not, but there was no way I could tell him the truth. I couldn’t involve him.

  It took a while, but I eventually dragged myself to my bedroom. I didn’t bother with the front door, there was no point. The only person I wanted to keep out had free access whenever he liked.

  I lay on top of the covers, rolling onto my side, and wished I could be back at the hotel.

  Chapter Twelve

  I didn’t make it into work the following morning. Every time my phone rang I ignored it, opting to stay in bed and hide.

  Eventually it stopped ringing.

  After a while, I was forced to get up to use the bathroom and stopped en route to check the phone. It was out of battery.

  It suited me that way, but it was always safer to have access to a phone. Despite not wanting anyone to contact me I plugged the damn thing in.

  The problem with my bathroom was it was tiny. Which meant I couldn’t escape the mirror. I was already aware of the mark on my cheek. It hurt like hell. What I wasn’t expecting was the bruising. I didn’t know a slap could bruise like this.

  Busy examining the mess, I startled when there was a knock on the front door.

  My instinct was to ignore it entirely. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want any more confrontations. But the knocking didn’t stop, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I stayed in the bathroom door and called, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me. Your phone went to voicemail, and you weren’t at work. Can I come in?”

  So many emotions surged at once I wasn’t able to answer, but I moved to the door and reached for the latch.

  “Bekah?”

  He sounded concerned. What would he say when he saw my face?

  How would I explain it?

  Before I could talk myself out of it, I pushed down the latch and allowed the door to open.

  “Come in,” I said, turning around and heading into the living room. “My phone died last night, I only just plugged it in.”

  He followed me inside, not saying a word, his presence comforting despite what I’d been subject to the night before.

  “I think I’ve got milk,” I said. “Do you want a drink?”

  When he didn’t respond, I turned around, and he sucked in a breath. “What the fuck happened?”

  I opened my mouth, but nothing came out, so I turned to the kitchen and drew up short when I saw the sticky puddle of coke and the empty can in the middle of the floor.

  “Bekah. He clearly attacked you.” I could hear the fury in his tone, but when I turned to face him I noticed he’d managed not to let it show in his expression. “Have you called the police?”

  The tears were already falling. “I didn’t let him... I tried to get away. He left when you called. I should have called back, but he left, and I just couldn’t...”

  He was at my side, a hand reaching for me, but he pulled it back and shoved both in his pockets.

  “He let himself in again, and I told him I didn’t want him because I don’t, I want—” I paused, swallowing hard. I couldn’t look at him. I was so ashamed of my weakness. Of my inability to make Johnathan leave. Of how close he’d come to raping me. After a couple of seconds, I made myself carry on. “He forced me and tried to—” I choked again. I couldn’t say what he’d done. If I said it out loud it made it more real, and I was trying so hard not to let it be my reality. He hadn’t said a word so I looked up at him. That was a mistake. The sadness in his eyes was too much for me to bear. For someone to give a shit about me was more than I could handle. “B–but I screamed, so he slapped me. Then you called, and he stopped. When he left, I went to bed. I just couldn’t face... no, I haven’t reported it, I know I probably should, but I don’t know what to do.”

  I continued looking up at him as I rambled my explanation, and he kept his eyes firmly on mine, but he remained a couple of feet away, hands stuck firmly in his pockets.

  “I can’t work with this on my face.”

  “Bekah, I’m—”

  “I understand. It’s fine.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “That yesterday wasn’t a
good idea, and you want to just carry on as normal. I understand.”

  He didn’t say another word but turned and walked straight out the door.

  I couldn’t move for a second. Couldn’t think.

  There had been a chance, however slim, until he’d seen the full extent of the mess I was in. Who wanted that?

  Who in their right mind would take on anyone as damaged as I was.

  Johnathan had taken everything from me.

  Drying my tears on my T-shirt, I looked back into the kitchen. I had cleaning to do. The distraction was welcome.

  It was over an hour before I’d caught up. I had my work uniforms drying on a clothes rack, the kitchen floor was clean, and I was fresh out of the shower when there was another knock on my front door.

  “Hello?” I called.

  “It’s me.”

  My heart leapt. Callum was back. I didn’t know what he’d come by to say, but he was back.

  I rushed to the door.

  “Is that coffee still on offer?” He asked holding up a small case and a plastic bag. “I brought gifts.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  He stepped forward, and I let him inside.

  “It’s a chain and two bolts for the door. When you’re at home, you’ll be able to lock yourself in.”

  Of course, that would have been a simple solution I could have managed myself had I been thinking straight. It didn’t stop him from being here when I got in from work, but it was a start.

  “I’m not sure I’m allowed to drill holes...”

  Callum shrugged. “Fuck him. Better yet, tell him to bill me. I’ll get these on, you get some clothes on, then make a drink.”

  Confused, I did as he’d said.

  An hour later, I was curled on the sofa with a coffee in my hands. Callum was sitting in the chair by the door, watching me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said after a long silence. “This is such a mess.”

  He shrugged, putting his empty mug on the floor at his feet. “I didn’t walk into this blindly, Bekah. You said you wanted to break away from Pierce, and I’m invested enough to stick this out.”