by S. M. Soto
“Did you sleep with her?” Myrah asks, glaring at me.
I jerk back at her tone and the look on her face. “What? With Emery? No. I was just angry. I needed space.”
“You have no idea, Liam. God, you don’t even know.”
My lip curls in anger at all her secrets and the fucking riddles. “I would know if you would just fucking spit it out!”
“She told me everything, Liam.” Myrah says, finally lifting her gaze to me. The normally vibrant green of her eyes looks dull and tortured. Her face is pale, and her eyes are blood shot and puffy from crying.
“Who? About what?” I furrow my brows, still not following.
“Bea. She told me what he does to her. That sick fuck. For six years he's been...oh, god.” She breaks down again, dropping her head into her hands.
My blood runs cold at her words, and my pulse is pounding so loud I can hardly hear anything but the erratic thumping.
“Just tell me Myrah!” I snap at her, close to losing my shit.
“He rapes her!” she screams. “He's been raping her in that house and no one even knows, Liam.” Her voice cracks at the end.
“Oh my god.” I hear Emery choke from somewhere behind me.
“No one even knows,” she whispers thickly.
I stumble backward on my knees, her words like a slap in the face. My hand flies to my chest as I grapple at the sternum with the heel of my palm, trying to suppress the shooting pain.
Like someone has a viselike grip around my heart, the pressure in my chest is unbearable. Her words start to sink in and my body starts to shake.
For the last six years he's been raping her. For the last six years he's been raping her.
Her words echo over and over until suddenly they stop.
I left six years ago.
He’s been raping her for six years.
It all started six years ago. When I left.
I sprint out of the guest bedroom and run into Myrah’s room, nearly ripping the door off the hinges in my haste. Once I spot her laptop on her desk, I yank it off and run back to the guest bedroom snatching the drive off the desk, exactly where I left it. After I destroyed the last laptop, I yanked out the drive and tossed it on the desk, disgusted with the offending piece of what I thought was the truth.
“What are you doing?” Myrah asks from her position by the bedroom door.
Ignoring her, I plug in the memory drive, and load up the video. With shaking hands, I press play, and my heart caves once the video starts playing.
I should’ve payed closer attention the first time I watched it.
Connor roughly pounds her small body into the mattress, and her muffled sobs ring around me almost like I’m there. It’s fucking torture. It feels like my heart is being torn in half with a chainsaw.
When I first watched the video, I didn’t bother with the volume. Once I saw him inside her bedroom, I didn’t want to watch anymore. But now…fuck, I wish I would’ve. As the video goes on, it gets even worse until it gets to the point where I can’t take it anymore. Myrah sobs into her hands, unable to control her despair. Emery’s eyes are glued to the screen, her face is white as a sheet and she has tears coursing down her cheeks. Over the duration of the video they must’ve walked closer, but I didn’t notice. I was so immersed in my mistake—my monumental fuck up—that I didn’t hear them.
My hands shake violently with a rage I've never felt before. It’s all consuming. I can't breathe or see straight. All I see is red. All I want is Connor’s blood. Clenching my hands into fists I try to bring feeling back into my hands but they’re numb.
A feral growl tears from my chest just thinking about Connor with his hands on my sweet Bea. It’s the sound of a wounded animal. My ribcage cracks open as I think about everything she’s been through.
It all fucking makes sense now.
She was hiding from him.
She tried to kill herself because of him.
She’s afraid of him.
My harsh words and accusations from the other night come back to haunt me. I clutch my hand over my abdomen, bend at the waist and try to catch my breath. I almost spill the contents of my stomach all over Myrah’s room as the images replay over and over again.
There’s only one thing on my mind right now, and that’s killing Connor. Damn the consequences. Damn it all.
“Liam....we have to get her out of there,” Myrah whispers.
Lifting my head, I stare at her for a beat before asking, “Is she at school today?”
She nods her head. “Connor’s home with his father and Shelly. His car is still in the driveway.”
She doesn’t need to say anything more.
I fly out of the house, and almost as if it’s a fucking sign, Connor comes strolling out of his house with a carefree grin. I don’t give him the chance to prepare himself. I charge him like an angry bull. His eyes widen once he sees me coming, but it all happens so fast, he doesn’t have a chance to react before my fist collides with his jaw and I’m tackling him to the ground.
A red haze consumes me, blocking my vision. All I see is red. I throw blow after blow, in his face, relishing in the crunching noise that echoes around us each time my fist slams home. I don’t stop when I see a pool of blood beneath him. I don’t stop when there’s loud commotion and shrill screaming around us. I don’t even stop when there’s hands at my back, prying me off him, trying to subdue me. I only stop when I’m dragged away by a group of uniformed men who read me my Miranda Rights.
Tears stream down Bea’s mother’s face as Connor is rolled into the back of an ambulance. There’s a small crowd that formed around our houses over the course of the fight. I see Emery pushing through the crowd of people with a stricken look on her face. She finally pushes through and manages to run to me.
“I’ve called a lawyer. Just stay quiet and cooperate. They can’t officially book you unless he presses charges.”
I nod my head, accepting whatever fate I’m given. I only wish I would’ve killed the son of a bitch.
“Do not let him near her, no matter what, Emery. Keep him the fuck away from her!” I growl as they drag me away. I’m shoved into the back of the police car and driven to the station. My body is still brimming with rage. If given half a chance, I would still kill him with my bare hands. Doesn’t matter where we are or who’s around.
A few hours of sitting in the cell with swollen and split knuckles, my lawyer manages to get me out with Myrah and Emery waiting back in the car.
“David is working damage control. He’s making certain this won’t become public knowledge,” Emery rants off, jumping into professional mode. “Connor has been admitted to Sutter Lakeside for an overnight screening. His injuries aren’t too heinous, other than a shattered cheekbone and a broken nose, he’ll survive.”
“That’s a shame,” I grind out. “Make sure this doesn’t get out. I won’t have Bea dragged into this. You know the press, they’ll dig and dig until they come up with a story.”
Emery nods her head, fingers flying away on her phone. “Already on it.”
I settle back into the leather seat of the SUV. I clench my eyes shut against the throbbing in my knuckles. My mind drifts to Bea, and I suck in a sharp breath, thankful my eyes are closed for the fear of letting a tear fall. I have to remind myself to be strong for her. She needed me for six long years, and now, I’m finally coming to her rescue.
After class, I told Melody my whole truth, just like I did with Myrah. It felt good, and for once in my life, I felt close to being free.
She shed a few tears, but when I told her I finally came clean to Myrah, she smiled. It was a proud smile. A smile that said she knew I could do it.
“I can finally breathe again,” I whisper to her with tears glistening in my eyes. Clasping our hands together, she squeezes reassuringly and nods her head.
“Good,” she whispers, “that’s where it all starts.”
Melody locks her arm with mine and leads me through the campus
with an extra pep in her step. “And the old boyfriend? Is there a possibility he could be your new boyfriend?” She waggles her brows playfully, but I don’t return the gesture. An ache shoots through my chest. I lift one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug.
“No. I haven’t seen him since he basically said he was disgusted with me. Which is fine,” I sigh sadly. “It hurts like hell, but if he wants to be with Emery back in San Francisco, then so be it. I’ve gone six years without him by my side, I can do it again if need be.”
“I’m sorry, Bea,” Melody says, tugging me closer to her side. “The hot ones are always the ones without any brains,” she jokes, nudging me in my side. A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips.
“Bad boys: Great for the body, but bad for the heart,” I say, thinking of Liam. Melody barks out a laugh and shoots a smirk my way.
“Now that’s the best tagline if I’ve ever heard one.”
I suddenly stop walking and tighten my arm around Melody. I stare at her and her vibrant hair, and colorful personality, so damn thankful that she came into my life when she did.
“Thank you, Melody. For being there for me. Pushing me. Making me laugh whenever I need a pick me up. Being my friend when I’ve never felt more alone. Just…thank you.”
Melody’s eyes water and she sniffles. Her arm tightens around mine in a reassuring squeeze. “Ditto, girlfriend. Ditto.”
After class and my shift at the library, I spend time with Melody at her place before I drive home in good spirits, ready to enjoy dinner with my mother before she takes off to the Caribbean with Richard. I think this is the longest they’ve been home with me and Connor in years.
A few days ago, my mom suggested dinner before she takes off on her next adventure. I was glad when my mom said she wanted dinner to be with just the two of us. I didn’t have to worry about Connor, or how he would react to anything I said over the meal. I could finally be myself for once. Without fear of consequence.
Grabbing my bag off the passenger seat, I head inside unprepared for my mother’s hysterics. As soon as I open the door, I hear her frantic rambling interspersed with sobs. My heart quickens as I round the corner of the living room. My mother is seated at the breakfast bar, and when she sees me, she jumps to her feet pulling me into her arms.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so glad your home,” she breathes out dramatically. “We need to head to the hospital. Your brother was attacked by that hoodlum next door.”
My entire body locks up, and my heart just about explodes in my chest. Each tendon strains with unbridled anxiety. My breaths come out in wheezing pants, and I lick my dry lips nervously.
“W-what are you talking about?”
“Earlier today Connor was attacked by Myrah’s cousin. He beat your brother half to death!” She just about screams in my ear. I flinch away at her tone, and slowly, my eyes drift to the dark house next door.
There’s no way…
He couldn’t possibly know.
Myrah would never say anything. She promised.
“That son of a bitch is going to pay. We are going to press charges against him! He thinks just because he’s some big shot baseball player that he’s above the law? Well, he isn’t. Richard will see to it.”
My stomach drops and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest. Shifting my gaze back to my mother, I see the worry lining her features. I start shaking my head back and forth, bile rising up my throat.
“I c-can’t…” I stutter. “I’ll just stay here and wait for you guys.”
Just the thought of visiting Connor in the hospital makes me sick. And visiting him will only make it worse. Once he finds out I opened my mouth…Oh, god.
My stomach flips violently at the thought, and I spin on my heels sprinting toward the bathroom, releasing the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. Fear grips my body, making me tremble in anticipation for what’s to come.
He’s going to kill me.
He’s going to kill me.
I jolt away from my mother’s hand that rubs slow circles on my back. She must’ve come in whilst I was in the midst of a breakdown.
“Stay, sweetie. You’re sick over this and I understand,” she sniffles, and I almost roll my eyes at her. With a final pat to my back, my mother slips out of the bathroom and leaves to visit Connor in the hospital.
Minutes pass with me seated on the hard, cold floor of the bathroom, but I have no inclination to move. Part of me wants to call Myrah and thank her for saying something. The other part, the frightened part, wants to run away and hide out until I know I’m safe. I’m half tempted to text Myrah and demand why she did it, but I leave it alone.
I curl into a ball on my bed and shed tears for the life I was rebuilding. Now that Liam knows, there’s no way he’ll be able to look at me. I’m filthy, just like Connor says. My heart squeezes, making it difficult to breathe every time I think about Liam and what he knows.
I hate that he knows the truth. I feel like I’ve betrayed him. Now that he knows about Connor—my darkest secret—I can’t help but wonder how badly he thinks of me, how badly he hates me. I feel dirty and tainted with his knowledge. Every good moment we shared six years ago is corrupted now that he knows about Connor and what he’s done to me.
Early the next morning, I hear the shuffle of my mom and Richard coming home with Connor. I do everything I can to avoid running into any of them for the remainder of the day. I feign sickness and pretend to sleep. It’s my only hope against Connor’s wrath.
I haven’t gotten a good look at him or his injuries, but if I’ve learned anything over the last six years, nothing will stop him if he’s intent on doing something. When he said he’d kill me if I ever opened my mouth, I believed him—I still do—he held the promise in his eyes. And I know he’s just waiting to even the score.
I perk up on my bed at the sound of someone repeatedly pressing the doorbell. With furrowed brows, I rest my back up against the headboard and wait it out. Suddenly there’s yelling. My eyes widen when the shouting from the living room grows louder and louder with each passing second.
What the hell?
Pushing myself off the bed, I open the door and walk toward the living room. My brows pull down, my face crumpling as the shouting voices become more familiar and recognizable.
“You are not welcome here! Get out of my house!” My mother screams.
“I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay. You’re going to sit and listen to what I tell you, Shelly.”
My heart pounds.
My footsteps quicken.
I turn the corner of the hallway, finding Liam and my mother facing off, shouting at each other. My heart skips when I hear his voice. The deep baritone sends chills down my spine, causing goosebumps to pebble over my skin.
Even after six years, he still has this visceral effect on me. My feet pause over the threshold into the living room, as I take in the scene before me. Both of them are so caught up in their heated battle they don’t notice my presence. I loudly clear my throat, effectively gaining their attention. Both sets of enraged eyes swing to mine.
My gaze connects with troubled blue eyes across the room. There’s so much emotion swimming in them, but the pain and the anger brews at the surface. Liam’s face visibly softens as we stare at each other. The pressure in my chest increases and my heart gallops wildly.
“Tell her, Bea,” he pleads and my breath catches. A shiver of dread runs through my body and cold sweat seeps out of my pores. I shake my head back and forth.
“No. No, I can’t,” I whisper feeling my anxiety rise.
I can’t tell her. If I do, Connor will hurt her. I can’t.
Liam strides to me in less than three steps, cupping my face in his hands gently. His beautiful eyes probe mine, searching for how I’m feeling.
“She needs to know, Bea. He can’t hurt you anymore. The police are already on their way.”
His words wrap around my heart, but my brain screams to use logic and keep my mouth shut. I w
ant to believe he can’t hurt us, but how do I know?
“What have you done?” I whisper in horror, my eyes brimming with tears.
“I love you, Bea. I won’t ever let him hurt you again. Do you understand me?”
The fierce protectiveness in his voice makes the tears spill over. Those three words float around me, warming me from head to toe. Disbelief clouds my brain.
How can he still love me? After everything?
Hot tears splash onto my cheeks, and of course, Liam is there to wipe them away.
“She needs to know,” he whispers. His normally bright blue eyes are tinged with sadness.
“I need to know what?” My mother shouts angrily, her patience snapping. Liam’s lips thin into a grim line and he whirls around, facing her.
“You need to hear about what’s been going on under your own roof. What’s been happening to your fucking daughter!”
“How dare you try to tell me about what’s happening under my own roof? You’ve been gone for years! I lost my Bea for six years because you broke her heart! She was never the same after you. I always knew you were trouble,” she growls, and his body visibly tenses. Her words make my heart drop.
She doesn’t understand.
Clenching my eyes shut against their bickering, I shake my head back and forth, waging an internal war within myself.
“I did leave, and that was the worst mistake of my life, but I’m not leaving her here in this house with that sick fuck.”
“How dare you speak of my son that way,” she hisses. “You’ve nearly beat him half to death!”
“He fucking deserved it after what he did to her!”
My mom freezes, and her eyes widen, darting to mine. “What is he talking about Bea?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to speak through the tightness blocking my airway.
“I’m talking about what he’s done to her over the years, right under your own goddamn nose! Do you realize you left your daughter in the hands of a fucking rapist?”
She stumbles at his words. They echo around us infinitely. Unable to be taken back.
My mother’s face pales, her mouth opens and closes like that of a gaping fish. She places a trembling hand over her lips and shakes her head back and forth vehemently.
