Unspoken Words (Unspoken #1)

by H. P. Davenport

  She caught me off guard with that statement. Camryn never came to our table. I gave her a sidelong glance. “Why? Why are you looking at me like that? Didn’t she come to your table?”

  Lindsey wipes her hands on her napkin, slowly pulling her feet off of the chair next to her. She looks at me, then at Christian. When I don’t respond. Christian says, “No, Lindsey. We haven’t seen Camryn since the two of you were dancing. Tabitha, Jamie’s ex, came up to the table. We were bullshitting with her. We didn’t even notice the two of you leave the dance floor.”

  My temper flares, why would Camryn leave Lindsey up here and come looking for us by herself. She knows better than that. This place is packed tonight. Curses fall from my mouth. I shake my head giving Lindsey a hostile glare.

  With sudden anger in her eyes, she shouts, “What, Jamie? She’s a big girl. She told me to stay here, and she would be right back. Stop looking at me like I did something wrong!”

  Without saying anything, I walk out of the room in search of Camryn. Hearing my name being called behind me, I don’t bother to stop. Hopefully she is at the bar with Lincoln and Morgan.

  CAMRYN

  WHEN I GET halfway across the dance floor to meet up with the guys, I see Jamie at the table with a girl’s arms thrown around his neck and pressed up against him. Who the hell is that? Her back is toward me, so I can’t see her face. I am not usually a jealous person, but when it comes to Jamie, something fierce inside of me ignites. Jamie and I just started seeing each other. We agreed to be exclusive while we tested the waters with us as a couple, so why is he allowing this chick to touch him?

  In order to avoid a scene here at the club, I turn my attention toward the bar. While heading in that direction, I debate on what drink I will order. As I try and squeeze my way to the bar, Lincoln spots me.

  Waiting for me to reach him, he wipes the bar down in front of him. “Hey, baby girl. What’s up? Why are you down here? The bartender up there could have made you anything you wanted.”

  Shrugging my shoulders, not really wanting to go into the real reason why I was at this bar, rather than upstairs. “Lindsey and I were heading upstairs, I was going to tell the guys where we were when we left the dance floor. Then I saw some girl with her arms around Jamie’s neck. He didn’t remove himself from her hold, so I bailed and headed over here.”

  Nodding his head in understanding, “You know it was probably nothing, baby girl. That man only has eyes for you. It’s been that way for a while now.” Lincoln raises his brows at me as if asking, ‘you knew that, right’?

  I don’t respond to his declaration. Lincoln must realize that I had no knowledge of what he just disclosed. Changing the subject, he asks, “Have you seen Morgan? She’s around here somewhere. The last I saw her, she was trying to get one of the security guys to run in the back and grab a few bottles of liquor from the storage room.”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t seen her since she left us on the dance floor. She said that she would be busy tonight running around, making sure everything ran smoothly. It’s no big deal, she’ll stop upstairs when she has a free minute.”

  Lincoln asks what I would like to drink. When I reply, a watermelon martini, he laughs and shakes his head. “One watermelon martini, coming right up.”

  He walks away to prepare my drink, leaving me standing there by myself. I turn around, leaning my back against the bar. Glancing around the room, I take in all the costumes. There are a few guys dressed as Superman, a fighter with a robe on with “Rocky” displayed on his back. His makeup on his face shows several black and blue marks portraying he was fresh from a fight. I notice a man at the end of the bar wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask staring in my direction. I can’t really tell if he’s staring or not because of his mask, but it’s freaking me out.

  My attention is drawn to another man wearing a bright white mask with his eyes cut out. With the black lights in the club, his face is glowing. He has a huge condom on his head, with a large “C” on an emblem on his chest. When he turns around, I spot “Condom Man” written across his cape. Immediately, I start laughing. Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I turn my attention toward the bar.

  “Here ya go, baby girl,” Lincoln says as he places a napkin in front of me then placing my drink on the napkin. My drink is in a fancy margarita glass, rimmed with sugar, with a small wedge of watermelon, placed nicely on the side.

  Stirring my drink slowly, then placing the stirrer on the napkin next to my drink, I gently, lift the drink to my lips, and try to avoid spilling any. I close my eyes, as my taste buds relish the sweet flavor. The perfect amount of alcohol mixed with sweetness. Opening my eyes, I see Lincoln with his head tilted to the side and his infamous crocked smile plastered on his face.

  “Are you enjoying that, Camryn? By the moan that just left your mouth, I think you gave the guy standing next to you a hard on. He adjusted himself and quickly walked away when I gave him a look to beat it.”

  Placing my drink down. I laugh at Lincoln’s comment. “I did not moan, you are exaggerating.”

  Lincoln laughs, “Whatever you say, baby girl, whatever you say.”

  I spend a few minutes at the bar talking with Lincoln. Every now and then he walks away to take a few drink orders. He is helping the bartenders out tonight since Redemption is so crowded. There are three bartenders covering this side, with an additional three on the other. The bar is set up in an L-shape. Since I have been standing here at the bar with Lincoln, the bar backs have filled the coolers with fresh ice and beer two times.

  My eyes are drawn to the Phantom of the Opera mask again making its way through the crowd. I’m not sure if it’s the same guy that was at the end of the bar earlier, or my mind is playing tricks on me?

  Once I finish my drink, my body feels warm. A slight buzz hits me from the martini. While attempting to make my way through the crowd, I decide I should go to the restroom before I make my way over to Jamie and Christian.

  Weaving my way through the crowd, I reach my destination. There is a line at least twenty girls deep. Sighing, knowing I am going to be here for a while, I pull out my phone to check my email. I respond to a few while I wait. Before I know it, I walk through the door to the bathroom.

  After taking care of business, I dig through my tiny wristlet, and find the red lipstick that Morgan used earlier on my lips. I reapply a coat, and throw it back in. I do a once over in the mirror. Happy with my appearance, I turn to leave.

  I weave my way through the line of girls in the hallway. Right before I reach the opening to the club, a set of strong arms wrap around my body, guiding me away from the bathroom, and toward a door labeled storage room. Taking a deep breath, I inhale his scent. Exhaling deeply, knowing it’s Jamie. I would know his smell anywhere. The whole time walking toward the door, soft kisses are being placed on my neck. Leaning my head back against his chest, giving him more access, he plants kisses from my ear to my collarbone. His mouth continues its attack on my neck, and lightly bites it. My body immediately reacts to his touch, thereby pushing my ass into his groin. He growls near my ear, igniting my body even more.

  Once the door is open, he pushes us in the dark room, letting the door shut behind us. He forcefully pins me against the wall. “Do you like how that feels?” he murmurs.

  I freeze. My body tenses on high alert. It isn’t Jamie’s voice. Who is the hell is it? I need to get out of here.

  I push back against the body behind me, then throw my elbow into his stomach. He groans, pulling back some, then slams my face into the wall. Tears run down my face as I scream, “Someone help me! Help me!”

  A punch hits the left side of my mouth. Pain immediately floods my face. Tasting copper, I know I am bleeding. He grabs my hair and pulls it back against his chest. He leans down close to my ear. “Shut the fuck up. No one can hear you over the music. This can be easy, or it can be rough. It’s your choice.”

  “Someone help me! Help me!” I scream as loud as I can. My throat burns as if som
eone has set it on fire. Struggling against his hold, I throw my head back, striking his face with the back of my head. I learned that move in a self-defense class I took in college.

  “You bitch, this is going to be rough now.” He growls.

  He slams my face against the wall again, and spots form in my vision. I feel trickles of blood running down my face. Trying to open my eyes again, something sharp presses against my neck. How can this be happening? He is going to rape me. Where are my friends? Where is Jaime? I rack my brain on what to do. I refuse to allow this to happen without putting up a fight. I will fight with all I have before he gets what he wants. Hopefully, I can last long enough for someone to come looking for me.

  His body presses against my back, forcing my body against the wall. Due to the darkness of the room, I can’t see his face. I can only feel his breath against my neck. “Why are you going to fight me? I saw the way you were looking at me out there. You were begging me with your eyes to come dance with you, to touch you.” What the hell is he talking about? I didn’t look at anyone while I was dancing with Jamie or with the girls.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I plead in between sobs, trying to breathe.

  He grabs at my dress to pull it up. Pushing back from the wall, I’m able to lift my left leg giving me just enough room to kick him, striking his shin. I throw my left elbow back, making contact again. I have to get out of here. There are hundreds of people in this club. The other side of the door is my salvation.

  “You, bitch,” he growls as he pushes himself against me. I gag when I feel his arousal against me.

  I continue to scream at the top of my lungs. Any sound, any words, if I stop screaming then I feel like I’m giving up and allowing this to happen. This can’t be real though. There were people in the hall, how can they not hear me is all I keep saying to myself in between my shouts.

  He tries to clamp a hand over my mouth and I bite down, hitting air but letting him know that I won’t go quietly and not caring about the repercussions.

  I struggle to get free, but he slams me against the wall again. His right forearm is now around my neck, holding the knife along the left side of my throat. I grab at his arm with my right hand, trying to pull his arm away from my throat. It doesn’t budge, it only tightens against my throat. Taking my fingernails, I dig them into his forearm and scratch him. He jerks his arm from the pain I just inflicted. Instantly feeling pain, I gasp from the sharp pain on my neck. This crazy fucker just cut me.

  He leans down to my ear, “Look what you made me do. You made me cut you. Are you happy now? You were perfect, now you are flawed. I expected to mark you but not in this way. This is your fault. If you didn’t fight me, this could have been easy.”

  He grabs a handful of hair, jerking my head back toward him. He licks the side of my face, then kisses the side of my mouth. I throw my head back again, colliding with his head. I see stars from the impact. His left hand comes up to punch me in the face again. I feel my lip split on that punch. He tries to turn my face around so he can kiss me on the lips, but I spit in his face. “Fuck you,” I scream, which only infuriates him.

  He throws my limp body against the wall again, striking my head against it in the process. My head is pounding and my vision blurs. The weight of his body is pressed flush against my back. His breath is touching my neck. Bile rises in my throat, and I start to gag. He wraps his left arm around my body, groping my chest. He then begins to pull at my dress tearing at the buttons to gain access underneath, leaving me exposed. His hand squeezes my breast roughly. I let out a cry as the pain shoots through my body. The knife is still pressed firmly against my throat, as he removes his hand from my breast. I feel him pulling at my shorts under my dress. I try to pull away from him, but that only makes his hold around my throat tighten. He takes his right leg, pushing my right leg farther part, giving him more access. Tears are running down my face as I continue to sob, the screams lessening as my energy and self-preservation wane. This cannot be happening. Why is this happening?

  I feel my black shorts being torn from my body. I hear something being torn behind me. “Be thankful, I’m using a condom,” he says in my ear. When he steps away to put it on, I try to turn around to see his face. He quickly shoves me back into the wall face first. He curses under his breath, “You stay right there, sweetie.” He pushes his erection against my bottom. I’m going to be sick.

  “Your boyfriend is one lucky guy. He gets to touch this body all the time. He doesn’t know how lucky he truly is,” he says against my ear as he grinds his erection into me.

  With his left hand, he shoves my legs apart even more. He takes his finger, shoving it into my mouth, saying, “lick my finger.” Instead, I bite down with the force I put behind the bite earlier.

  “You bitch,” he yells withdrawing his finger from my mouth. He punches me in the side, immediately feeling like he fractured a rib, I can’t breathe. I gasp for air, feeling like my lung won’t expand.

  He takes his finger, shoving it violently into me. I whimper as he moves his finger around inside of my body.

  “Oh, baby, you are sooooo ready for me. I know you’ve been wanting me all night, I could see it every time you looked my way. Get ready, cuz I’m about to give you the best time of your life.”

  He removes his finger, then thrusts his penis inside of me. My stomach churns and I close my eyes, sobbing. What did I do that would make him want to do this to me?

  “You’re tight, baby. Just like I imagined you would be.” He grunts against my ear.

  My body hurts with every thrust . . . so badly. I feel so broken. I try to fight more, but the more I fight, the harder he pushes himself into me. I feel his breath on my neck. He kisses my neck as he jerks himself in me. He thrusts so hard, my feet are lifted off of the ground. My entire body is shaking as I sob. I want to die. I wish he would just kill me. Move the knife against my throat, slice my carotid artery, anything. I would rather die than live through this.

  He thrusts a few more times, then grunts as he reaches his climax. He withdraws himself from me, but not before kissing my cheek. I fall to the floor, curling into the fetal position.

  “Now that’s how it’s done, sweetie,” he says, and tucks himself inside zippering his pants.

  I can’t see out of my one eye. I try to look up at him to get a glance of the monster who did this to me. When he opens the door, I see that he is wearing all black, a black cape and what appears to be the Phantom of the Opera mask. One side of his face is covered. The only thing I see is a smirk across his lips. He turns and walks out of the room, and leaves me lying on the floor. It’s the guy I saw that was watching me at the end of the bar.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been physically and emotionally dying here, before the door opens. I tighten my hold around my legs, praying it isn’t him again. The light flicks on, blinding me. I hear a gasp, then my name. “Cami, oh my God.”

  I recognize the voice immediately, it’s Lincoln. He kneels next to me. “Cami, who did this to you?” I don’t answer him, I just shake my head back and forth. I hear him talking to someone, “Call a fucking ambulance, Jason. Now!” he screams.

  I flinch away from his touch to my arm. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I’ll get you help. Don’t move, Cami, your head is bleeding really badly.”

  I hear Lincoln talking again. He is telling Morgan to get her ass to the storage room and bring a blanket from the office. Morgan burst through the door moments later. Glancing in her direction, I see her hand immediately cover her mouth. She walks over to me, gently placing the blanket over me. Lincoln barks, “Go get Jamie and Christian now.” Morgan nods her head and runs out of the room.

  “Baby girl, I am so sorry. This is my club, you were supposed to be safe in my club. I am so sorry,” he murmurs, and I think I hear tears threatening his words, him bearing the weight of what occurred in this tiny room. I see him looking around the room to find something to cover me with, my clothes ripped much like the tatters that
my very soul is in now.

  I see a tear run down his face. “Jason called 911, the police and ambulance are on their way.”

  Morgan quickly returns to the room. She comes over and kneels next to me on the floor. She goes to wipe my hair from my face, but I stop her. “Please, don’t touch me. You can’t. He touched me everywhere.”

  She covers her mouth with her hand, tears running down her face. Her body shakes as she sobs. “Camryn, I am so sorry. So sorry,” she repeats.

  The door is shoved upon, Lincoln jumps to his feet. Jamie and my brother are in the doorway. Jamie sees me on the floor, and hollers my name, “CAMRYN!” The way my name is said, will haunt me forever. The pain in his voice is so raw. He sounds like a wounded animal.

  Jamie lunges toward me, but Lincoln stops him. Jamie tries to push Lincoln out of the way, causing Lincoln to wrap his arms around him. Jamie struggles to get out of Lincoln’s hold. “You can’t touch her, man. You can’t. You have to wait for the paramedics to get here.”

  “Why can’t I touch her, she’s my girl. Get the fuck off me, now!” Jamie screams. I see Lincoln lean in to Jamie’s ear whispering so I can’t hear. I am guessing he told him I was raped. Watching this scene unfold in front of me is so surreal, like I’m an observer watching the chaos. Jamie gets his arm loose, shoving Lincoln out of the way. He runs over to my side, coming down to my side on the floor.

  He lifts his hands to touch my face but stops. “Oh my God, Camryn.” His voice weak.

  I can’t even acknowledge his words. Looking past Jamie, I see my brother standing next to Lincoln by the door. Unabashed tears stream down Christian’s face. He doesn’t try to wipe them away. Lincoln didn’t need to tell my brother what happened. He is piecing it all together. His hands are fisted at his side. This is the first time that my brother hasn’t been there to protect me. Looking my brother in the eye, I can only watch him, the effort too much to do anything in this moment.