“Badass boss. In training for life,” I whispered to myself. You’re good at what you want to be good at. You’ve got the moves. You’ve got the muscles. Fucking use them.
A fire lit in my gaze.
He continued pawing at me as I raced to remember how to fight off an attack from behind. Get him to hug you, and get ready.
Relaxing was impossible, but I leaned back into him. He paused those icky fingers and took a deep breath. “Good girl. Come here.” A kiss landed on my hair as, sure enough, his arms wrapped around my chest.
I rested my hands on his—and then tensed up hard. My grip tightened and pushed down as I rocked my shoulder and hip to the right. Megs and I used to laugh that this was combat dabbing, but there was no time for humor now. I ducked under his hug, pulling him forward with my momentum. My fists slammed down on his back as I brought my knee up into his stomach once, twice.
“Fuck,” he shouted.
He twisted away from the attack. I jerked my knee again, forgetting that the right thing to do was back away and put my fists in guard. Bad mistake.
His fists hit my abdomen somewhere between a punch and a shove. My unsteady, forward momentum intensified the impact and stole my breath. He shoved again, and I nearly vomited from the force.
“Don’t make me angry, baby.”
My ears rang from the backhand he threw to my jaw. Another blow struck my temple by my eye, but the numbness in my face muted the pain.
I spun around, doubled over, and slammed into the corner of the sink. Bile forced its way up my throat just as he shoved his hips against my ass, delivering another nasty jab to my stomach thanks to the sink. His fingers gripped my shoulders and hauled me to stand up straight.
With another dry heave, I found myself in the mirror again.
Take what you want.
I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kill him. But I had to find my center in this mess if I wanted to even escape him.
He tried to turn me by the waist, but my feet were planted, knees braced. While he kicked at my boots to make me yield, I lifted my right arm parallel to the floor, fingers curled into a fist. Deep breath, girl. This will hurt.
I rammed my elbow backward. His face stopped the momentum, but I didn’t care. My fist flew forward.
My eyes in the mirror disappeared. I drove into the shattered glass, and this pain definitely registered. The shards ground into my skin, just as I’d wanted. My wrist twisted, breath held to grind as hard as I dared before I flew backward, thrown against the opposite wall.
Blood leaked from his busted lip. I must’ve clipped his mouth with my elbow. He was the angriest monster I’d ever imagined.
“You should’ve just let me make this nice. I don’t like to play rough, but if you insist,” he growled.
Most of my defense moves had drained out of my head by then, but I curled into myself and ducked away.
“No, no, no. Get back here, Olivia.”
He reached for me with his right hand. In the moment before he grabbed me, I knew what to do.
In a flurry of nightmarish seconds, every ounce of strength I’d been building at CrossFit came into play. I held his wrist and jackknifed his arm, but not to free myself. His elbow bent at a hard angle, which took his attention to that pain. I clamped tighter on his wrist with my left hand and pulled, making him tip downward just enough.
My right fist, the one I’d been saving, arced up by my ear and came down with all my might against his temple. Agony rocketed up my arm as the bits of glass drove deeper into my knuckles, but they ground into him, too. I twisted and dragged my knuckles down his fucking ugly face, imagining I could hear the glass tear his flesh.
His feeble block came far too late. All he could do was bat at my already-retreating strike. He screamed as he recoiled, his hand to his cheek, his head dropped back.
It was the gift I’d counted on.
No hesitation. This was my tenth pull-up, my final burpee. I used all the power I had left to let my fist fly straight to his windpipe.
Cam fell to the floor, eyes glazed. The roaring ocean in my head got quiet. I gulped air until I was lightheaded as I gazed down at him. You’re killer at those pull-ups now… Liv Milani, did you sweep the leg?… Oh, god, get me out of here.
I pushed off the wall and straightened my dress. He was still on the floor, semi-conscious, so I buried the heel of my knee-high boot between two ribs for good measure. A wheezy groan was all I heard while I grabbed my purse from the floor and clawed at the lock on the door.
Outside that hell, the party went on like I didn’t just fight for my life. The air out here was cooler but stuffy, too, and the music made my head pound. I’m exhausted. Sleep would be so great. Maybe then I could sober up a little. How did I let this happen?
“Don’t cry,” I whispered as I stumbled down the little hallway and out to the main dining room.
Where are my friends? Where is our table? Maybe Megs can call me a cab home. The bar is to my right, not far. Water would be nice. If my feet wouldn’t tangle over each other so much, I’d be there already.
I grabbed a chair to stay upright and spied a flash of red hair—Mel, with Celeste beside her at the bar. I’ll say goodnight, congratulations…
“Celeste,” I tried to shout, but my throat was dust and my tongue was still thick.
They heard me, though. Both women’s eyes went round as they fixed on me. I cringed in embarrassment to be so fall-down drunk. Talk fast and get out of here.
“Hey, ladies, great party. Celeste, I’m so happy for you and Ben. You, too, Mel, you and, um, yeah. Cheers.”
“Olivia?” Celeste grabbed my arm. Her voice was strange, full of something I couldn’t name.
I winced at her touch. “Yeah, sorry, I know I’m a little…”
I covered my mouth and coughed hard. When I looked down, my hand was coated in blood. I couldn’t be sure if it was mine or his.
Keep it together. Don’t ruin the party. Jesus, I’m tired.
Hand hidden by my side, I looked at them again and struggled to smile. “Celeste, I need a favor.”
I fumbled for my phone and thrust it toward her. “Will… my Will… can you call him? Tell him I’m sorry. So, so sorry.” Tears and darkness blurred my vision.
“She’s about to pass out,” Celeste said. “Keep her talking, Mel. Someone call the cops! Ben!”
The cops? Who, me? No, I’m just tired.
I forgot about the blood and palmed my eyes. Nothing registered beyond fatigue. “I’m sorry I’m so…”
My tongue stopped working. Celeste disappeared. Mel’s lips moved as she gently tapped my cheek, but all I could do was plead silently with her to understand. Please call Will. Please tell him…
I stumbled backward into strong arms. Panic surged, but when I forced my eyes open, Ben was holding me. He lifted me, and in his arms where I knew I didn’t belong, it made sense that I could rest now.
Blink. Focus. I’m moving? God, the light.
At first, the only sense that worked was sight. Squares of fluorescent light flashed past. A couple breaths later, I could feel, too. I was lying on a moving bed. My hands were screaming with pain. My mouth was covered with something hard and plastic. I couldn’t talk. Hearing came back. Squeaky wheels and a chorus of chatter filled in the scene.
And the voice I’d prayed for.
“Olivia? Can you hear me? Look at me, Liv, I’m here.”
My gaze gravitated toward the dark command of his voice. I blinked back tears of relief. I wasn’t sure where I was, but it didn’t matter. He’s here.
“Liv, can you hear me?”
I tried to nod, but it hurt. Tears fell.
“She’s awake.” He looked from me to—where?
Several people began speaking at once. We turned, slowed down. The words, “Stomach pump,” and, “Sutures for her hand,” made me tense up in fear, and I understood where I was.
Don’t leave, Will. My eyes screamed at him. I reached out with the hand
that hurt less, but something restrained my movement.
Will was still there, his face cut with panic and fear. “Baby, what happened?”
I could tell he didn’t expect me to talk. I squeezed my eyes to try and make the tears stop, but they wouldn’t quit. He reached out and swiped them away with his thumb. It only made more pool up.
“…Toxicology report and rape exam…”
Will’s head jerked at those words. He paled and gripped the bedrail. My tears gushed even harder. I wanted to explain so damn bad. He looked at me, and I shook my head no.
It’s enough for now. I can tell him later. Once I’m sober and don’t hurt so much. Please stay, please be here when I wake up, please, Will...
35
Liv
…Not comfortable with you here.
Your comfort isn’t my concern. I have to know what happened. I will tear that fucker to pieces…
You and me both. But consider this: she said she didn’t want to see you. Do you think she wants to deal with this conflict while she heals? Please, just go to Chicago and leave our family to get through this.
When at last I took a lazy swim up to consciousness, I looked around. The bed was white. My hand was wrapped in white. My papery gown was white. I turned my head to the window, and a rainbow of flowers blinded me. The only thing on my mind was a monstrous thirst.
“Livi?” Tom was on his feet from a chair in the corner, over me in a flash. He pressed two fingers to my throat, eyes on a monitor above me. “You awake, sis? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two,” I croaked.
Tom palmed my forehead and lifted my eyelids. He shone a light in each and fussed when I tried to jerk away. I guess he was satisfied because the torture ended quickly.
“Water.” I was dying. He put a cup in my hand. I frowned to see ice.
“Eat the ice first,” Tom said. “You need to go slow.”
I packed my mouth with as much as I could stand. The cold sharpened my senses. The moisture was a lifesaver. Tom brought the chair to the bed and waited to speak while I gobbled the whole cup.
“Better?”
“A little,” I said, relieved that my tongue worked properly again at last. My voice was raspy, but at least words came out like I intended them to. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yeah, a little better.”
I tipped the cup for a final droplet. A million questions and worries crept in, but I didn’t know where to start. Before I could ask him anything, a flock of people arrived. Nurses, three doctors, and my parents, who looked so gray and scared that my heart twisted, crowded around. I tried to smile.
Mom pushed around the lab coats and wrapped me in her arms. Her scent washed over me, and my tears began to soak her shirt. She whispered in my ear, called me brave, said how proud she was of me.
“Mom, she shouldn’t get her pulse up,” Tom said.
Mom turned and hissed, “Let me hold my baby.”
No one dared argue.
I was so thoroughly prodded and inspected by the medical team that I felt like tenderized steak. They said I could be released the next morning, but police and a psychiatrist were waiting to talk to me ASAP.
“What time is it?” I asked when they finished.
The doctor checked his watch. “It’s sixteen hundred hours—four pm—on November two.”
I frowned. “Wait. Yesterday was Halloween.”
Yesterday was not Halloween. The sedatives they’d given me were pretty powerful. I’d slept almost two days. Holy shit.
“Well, now, Ms. Milani, are you up for a little chat?”
The medical team had barely vacated when two policemen strolled in. My family made a little wall of squared shoulders around me, but I leaned forward. “I guess so.”
Detectives Carlino and Watts said my family could stay. When they asked me to recount what happened, I clamped my mouth shut and looked at my ghostly mother.
“They need to leave,” I said quietly.
Mom wiped a tear and tossed her hair—must be where I got that gesture—and said, “You don’t think ignorance is bliss, do you?”
So, I told it all. Mom, bless her heart, had to muffle more than one sob along the way.
The cops seemed pretty impressed, but the interrogation wasn’t over. They asked a ton of questions that basically resulted in a second telling. I had to recall everything I’d had to eat in itemized detail. I repeated three times that I wasn’t sure how much I’d had to drink. The whole thing was starting to piss me off when they sat back and held up a sheet of paper.
Watts cleared his throat. “We know how much you had to drink, Ms. Milani. Roughly twelve ounces of beer. It’s the one-point-five grams of Gamma-hydroxybutyrate we’re concerned about.”
The room went silent.
I gripped the sheet. “What?”
“GHB? Gamma-OH? Georgia Home Boy? It’s a popular narcotic on the club scene. It’s also…” Watts trailed off, assessing my reaction.
Don’t do drugs. Drugs are bad, m’kay?
I kept that in my head this time. Things started to make more sense, and my teeth clenched along with my fists. “Are you telling me I was roofied?”
“I’m telling you that you ingested GHB. However, it was a very small dose, and you did it on a full stomach. The fact that you’re in excellent shape definitely slowed the effects, too, which is probably why you were able to stay conscious enough to fight off your attacker. Are you telling me you took it involuntarily?”
“Damn right,” I growled.
All these years, all the clubs and the concerts and the nights out, never had I been drugged.
I. Was. Furious.
The cops and my family cleared out pretty fast. I guess my story and reaction told them what they needed to know. The therapist arrived right after to find me flushed with rage, still fisting the sheets.
“Roofied?” I barked at her.
Poor woman, she startled and hurried to sit down. “Let’s talk, Olivia. Tell me everything, and don’t edit. I can handle it.”
A stream of profanity mingled with broken thoughts poured out until I could see straight again. When my pulse monitor stopped beeping so loud, I leaned back against the pillows.
“I want him dead,” I said simply. “Tell the cops. I don’t care. I want him dead.”
She shook her head. “Only if I feel you’re in imminent danger of breaking the law. Wanting and plotting aren’t the same things. But I do think you and I should continue talking after you’re released tomorrow. Healing is a process.”
“Where is he?”
“In another hospital. He’s being monitored by the police. They had to hear your story before they knew what to do.”
“I hope his fucking windpipe is broken.”
She nodded. “Hairline fracture was what it said on my report. Ribs, too.”
I smirked.
Dr. Huang put on a serious face. “You’ll go through stages as you process this. I encourage you to journal about it and bring those notes to our sessions.”
I nodded, but the only stage I could see “going through” anytime soon was revenge on that smarmy fucker.
The rage had ebbed by the time Dr. Huang left, replaced by hunger so great that I wolfed down a whole tray of hospital food. After that, the nurse helped me with a bath.
My appearance hadn’t occurred to me until I walked into the bathroom, but my reflection stole my breath. Purple and yellow welts streaked across my hairline and both cheeks. It was worse on the right, where the bruise seeped under my eye, too.
“Oh, my god.” With shaking fingers, I disrobed. The sight of my body made me stumble backward in shock. “Oh, my god. I’m a mess.”
Red and purple marks slashed across the tops of my thighs. The bruise on my abdomen was violet, navy, and green, deep and angry.
The nurse touched my shoulder gently. “No, Ms. Milani. You have some bruises, but you walked away from an attack on your own.”
Her words put me somewher
e between pride and guilt. I had walked away. I had fought with all I had to save myself. But it didn’t bring me peace when I thought of all the women who couldn’t fight back, whose battle had to be fought harder afterward when healing and recovery seemed impossible. Why should any woman, ever, have to fight for her dignity, for her body?
I’m not special. But, like all women, I am strong.
It was late by the time I’d dried and dressed in another paper gown. Clean at last and with food in my stomach, I felt a lot better, even if I was exhausted again.
I was reading the cards on the flowers when my door opened. Tom came in, still dressed in his scrubs. He stood by me to look at the flowers. “Mom and Dad went home for the night. I just wanted to check in before I left. These flowers started arriving yesterday. Your colleague Rachel volunteered to keep Maddie when we called the daycare. You are loved dearly, sis.”
“Yes.”
“By me too, you know.”
“I know.” I perched on the bed.
He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes.
“Tom,” I said at last, stomach fluttering. “Where is Will?”
I held my breath while he got still, the muscle in his jaw tight. “Chicago.”
Someone must’ve opened a window because chills crawled down my body. I scrambled into the blankets and pulled them high. “Chicago? He… he just left?”
“He has business to attend to, and you have your family. Speaking of, do you need anything?”
I did not.
“Then Mom and Dad will take you home tomorrow morning. I work seven-a to seven-p.” Tom hesitated, then reached out and touched my hair. “Baby sis, I’m so glad you’re so strong.”
And with that, he was gone.
I was not to blame. Nothing that happened that night was a result of my carelessness. I did not have this coming because of anything I had done in my life.
Those were the things Dr. Monica Huang wanted me to know. It took two sessions for her to realize that those were things I already knew. No, hell no I didn’t blame myself. I blamed him. If anything, I blamed myself for not breaking his fingers the first time he ever put his hand on me.
Nemesis Page 23
