Breaking Grace

by Rose Devereux

  Torment is replaced by pure, crystalline fear. I’ve seen terror on a woman’s face before, but never like this. Her breaths are quick and shallow. Her dilated eyes are like a trapped animal’s.

  “How did I get here?” she asks. Her teeth are chattering.

  “Someone dropped you off. You were unconscious.”

  She swallows hard. “This is for coming to your office, isn’t it? For writing that letter.”

  “No,” I say.

  “Then why am I here? Who was that Coral woman?”

  “She’s a friend I’ve known a long time.”

  “It was weird, like…she’s done this before. Like you both have.” Her frantic gaze scours my face. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “What’s best for you, Grace.”

  She draws up her shoulders as if that will make her look bigger. “You can’t hold me against my will.”

  I smile. “Against your will? Think of it as protective custody.”

  She may be terrified, but she can still manage a scornful smirk. “What’s protective about kidnapping?”

  I pull a tiny lock of hair from the corner of her mouth. “Do you remember last night?”

  She blinks, and a tear falls to her chest. “What about it?”

  There’s no way to soft-pedal it, so I say it straight out. “You tried to kill yourself.”

  The scar on her bottom lip quivers. “No, I didn’t.”

  “What were you doing on the Chapman Bridge at midnight?”

  “The Chapman Bridge?” Her eyes shift blankly across my face. She doesn’t remember.

  “You were on the railing about to jump.”

  “You’re lying,” she says, but her eyes are dark with doubt.

  “You were up there in the rain with no shoes on.”

  She squints. “How do you know? You saw me?”

  “No. But the man who saved your life did.”

  Her mouth hardens. “My kidnapper?”

  “No, Grace. Your savior.”

  Her shivering terror turns back to fury. “You paid somebody to kidnap me.”

  “That’s not what happened.” What I mean is, pretty damn close to it. I paid him with a car a year ago, even though I had no fucking idea.

  Using my thumb, I wipe the track of a heavy tear. She whips her face away and scowls. “Don’t touch me.”

  God, what a gift. I haven’t seen a girl so intensely real…ever. I knew she would be.

  At this moment, I’d give her anything. I’d sacrifice the world for her. I can be that fucking tender inside. But tenderness doesn’t enter into it. With Grace, it can’t.

  “You don’t remember being on the bridge, do you?” I ask.

  “I want a phone,” she snaps. “I want to call my parents. I want to call the police and have you locked up for good.”

  “You jumped from your parents’ window last night. Now you want to call them?”

  Her huge eyes fill with confusion. She’s trapped by my logic and her shitty options. Everywhere she looks there’s a brick wall.

  “I’m not talking to you anymore,” she says through gritted teeth.

  “All right,” I say. “We’ll try again later.”

  She shoots me a surprised look as I get to my feet. A hundred questions haunt her face. I leave them all unanswered and walk away.

  Switching off the light, I leave and shut the door. I can’t afford to be soft, not this early on. Pity her and I’ll lose her. I learned that lesson years ago.

  I hear a thud as she flies at the door and pounds on it.

  “Please!” she shouts. Then, in a voice so quiet my heart almost breaks, she says, “Don’t go.”

  She doesn’t hear my footsteps yet. She thinks she still has a chance. A little bit of power in that soft, pleading voice.

  She has none. That’s her first lesson.

  “Don’t go!” she screams.

  If I didn’t care, I’d go back inside. I’d set her free to self-destruct again.

  That’s what a true monster would do. He’d give her her power back, and watch her ruin herself with it.

  As she beats her fists against the door, I walk away. Every echoing step sounds like a message meant just for her.

  You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.

  Bram

  It’s midnight when I go back upstairs. She’s had three hours to realize how much she needs me. I’m her everything. Her sun, moon, and fucking stars.

  But not for long. It was addicting while it lasted.

  All is quiet inside her room. I knock twice and go in. She’s sitting on the bed with the light on low overhead.

  I set an ice pack on the comforter next to her. She doesn’t even look at it. “Hungry yet?” I ask.

  Eyes cast down, she shakes her head. She’s washed the mascara from her cheeks. That tells me something. She cares how she looks for me. She wants to be pretty for the man she despises. I like that.

  I walk up and loom over her. Her face goes dark in my shadow.

  “Call your parents,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket.

  She looks at the phone and then at me. “What?”

  “You heard me. Tell them to come and get you.”

  I curse the words as I say them. I’m doing the right thing, but it feels like killing something precious. Like letting go of a treasure I’ll never have again.

  She lowers her eyes. “No.”

  “No?”

  “I want to call my friend Stephanie instead.”

  “Why not your parents?”

  “Because they’ll…” She swallows. “Make me live with him.”

  “Who?”

  I see defeat in her shrug. “Isaac. He works for my father. They want me to live with him and his family until I – get my shit together.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  She swivels her eyes up and stares at me. “He tried to rape me at my father’s church when I was fourteen. He’ll try again if he has a chance. That’s what’s wrong with it.”

  My guts churn. “He – Jesus. I’m so sorry, Grace.”

  But I’m only sorry for a second. Then I’m so enraged I’m shaking. Some asshole tried to shove his dick in this precious girl when she was still a child. I want to strangle him. I want to find out everything about him so I can destroy him.

  Suddenly her eyes flash and her teeth clench. “What am I telling you this for? You’re worse than he is.”

  Of course I am, in my own way. After last night, lying in bed with her, I can’t even pretend to be pious.

  “You’ve told your parents?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Like it mattered.”

  “You’re an adult. They can’t force you to live with him.”

  “They can make life impossible if I don’t. They locked me out of my apartment. My money is in a family account, and they won’t let me have it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m embarrassing them,” she says. “Sound familiar, Mr. CEO? Who had me thrown out by security?”

  “You were drunk and wanted to slander me.”

  She gives me a bratty eye-roll. “Thanks for fucking with my job, by the way. Did you hope I’d quit?”

  I shake my head. “If you think I’m involved in minor event-planning decisions, then you don’t know what CEOs do. Maybe I should bring you along for the next Take Your Daughter to Work day.”

  She glares at me. “I want to get out of here. I want to call Stephanie.”

  “You’re not leaving with a friend, Grace. Do I need to remind you? Last night you were suicidal. You have no home, no job, and no money. You don’t even have a phone.”

  She crosses her arms. “I’m fine on my own.”

  “Your father or the police. I’ll have to tell them you tried to kill yourself. They need to know you’re a danger to yourself.”

  Her forehead crinkles. “But I’m not. Whatever that man thinks he saw –”

  “I’m not taking any chances.”

  Her ey
es glitter. “I’ll tell them you kidnapped me.”

  “Go ahead. You’ll be in a mental hospital and I’ll be in jail. A lose-lose for everybody.”

  Her mouth quivers. “No, please.”

  Pocketing the phone, I sit on the edge of the bed. “Let’s say we do this your way and you go with your friend. Your parents will find you. You’re not exactly anonymous.” I reach out and cup my hand around her smooth, oval cheek. “The only place you’re anonymous is in here. With me.”

  Her face falls. There’s no way out, and she knows it.

  I let my hand drop as she pulls away from me. “I guess there’s one thing I can thank you for,” she says.

  “What’s that?” I’m riveted to her every word.

  Her gaze is like broken glass as she looks at me. “I always believed that bad people get punished, but now I know they don’t. They just keep on taking what they want and hurting everyone else.”

  I should feel regret but I don’t. She’s learned a lesson she’ll need if she’s going to survive. It’s a lesson I learned twenty years ago, when I was bullied and beaten and had no one to stand up for me.

  “Villains run the world, Grace. Are you just figuring that out?”

  Her eyes blaze a sharp jade. “I know how unfair life is, thanks to you.”

  I stare at her, pondering her beautiful bitterness. How I’d love to do the impossible, and restore the innocence to that sweet face. To show Grace that sometimes, if girls are very good, even a tragedy can have a fairytale ending.

  “What if we could change that, just this once?”

  “What do you mean?” She frowns. She thinks I’m toying with her. I’m a predator, and predators like to tease their prey before they shake it to death by the neck.

  “What would make you feel better?” I ask.

  “Better?” She waves the question away. “Ask me when you learn to raise the dead.”

  Snatching her hand in mid-hair, I hold it still. If she thinks this is a democracy, she’s very fucking mistaken. “I’m asking you now.”

  She tries to jerk her hand away, but I hold it tight. Her mouth twists. “You won’t like my answer,” she says.

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Her eyes are sharp and focused. “All right. For you to hurt the way I do.”

  Beaten down though she is, there’s a triumphant edge to her voice. A killer instinct that lives under all that brokenness.

  Something snaps inside me. Fuck. I finally get it. She doesn’t want to hurt me. She wants me to hurt like she does. She wants somebody to understand. And for the first time, I do.

  “An eye for an eye,” I say.

  She nods. Our gazes connect like two strings of barbed wire. Her face takes on a faraway look as she imagines this fair and just world, but pain floods her face as the fantasy fades. It’s a game. I don’t really mean it.

  “Okay,” I say.

  Her expression is dark and confused. She shakes her head. “Okay?”

  “You can make me hurt the way you do. But you’ll have to earn it.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I bring my face close to hers so there’ll be no mistake. “It means this. You do as I say. You listen. You give me everything. Nothing in your body or mind are off limits.” I grab her slender shoulders in my hands. “It’ll be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But if you get through it, I’ll give you what you want.”

  Her eyes are so transparent, I can almost see into her soul. “What are you talking about?”

  “Thirteen million dollars for you and the Winthrops. Exactly what you sued me for.”

  She doesn’t blink. “You don’t mean it.”

  “You have no fucking idea how much I mean it.”

  She turns her head and eyes me warily. “It’s hush money, isn’t it? As long as I’m here, I can’t cause trouble for you.”

  “Yes,” I say. “That’s part of it.”

  It’s a brutal admission, but she seems to accept it. “What’s the other part?”

  Jesus. The other part is a quagmire. It’s regret and bitterness and the urge to fuck her, it’s the impossible wish to undo the past. To go back to the moment I first met James Winthrop, and do everything differently.

  “I owe it to you,” I say.

  She lowers her eyes. I let her go of her shoulders. She pulls at the scar on her lip with her top teeth.

  What does ‘nothing is off limits’ include?” she asks. “Sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Money isn’t enough.”

  “Come on,” I say. “There’s always been an attraction between us. While you sat there in court in your little blouse and skirt, you hoped I’d walk up, rip your panties off, and fuck you senseless. Don’t bullshit me. You’d do it for free.”

  Her eyes dilate for an instant before closing like a cat’s. Of course I’m right, but her shame and anger are like a heavy shield. “I told you,” she says. “It isn’t enough.”

  Not enough. Damn. I thought she’d fold, given her desperate circumstances. I knew she was as strong as a bull, but she’s even stronger than that.

  “Everybody has a price,” I say. “And I’m not talking about money.”

  There’s that cynical look again, like she’s done and heard it all. “What more could you offer me than that?”

  It’s like a fucking revelation when I think of it. A crazy spark that goes off in my brain. It’s as if I’ve been waiting for it all along, and didn’t even know it.

  I hold her chin so she can’t look away. “An eye for an eye, right, Grace?”

  “So?”

  “So. I’ve got a roomful of weapons downstairs.”

  Face draining, her lips part. “What? Do you mean…”

  “Yes. If you stay, and money isn’t enough, then you decide what to use and how to use it.”

  Her eyes are huge and green-black. “That’s…insane.”

  “But it’s fair, isn’t it? It’s justice?”

  “Why – why would you do that?”

  It takes me a long time to answer. “Because this has to end. And if that’s how it ends, then so fucking be it.”

  A tiny shudder ripples through her shoulders. “Wouldn’t that make me a killer, too?”

  “Not if I do it myself.”

  She gasps. Pulling back, she gives her a head a hard, determined shake. It’s one thing to dream of revenge. But this is too close, too fucked-up, too real.

  “I can’t,” she says. “Never.”

  I stifle the urge to fight her. To try to convince this weak-strong, sweet-evil girl to take the deal of a lifetime. Hand-to-hand combat won’t work. Not with her.

  “I had your dress cleaned today, and your lingerie washed,” I say.

  This bit of information seems to startle her. “Oh. Okay.”

  “You can keep the slippers Coral gave you.”

  “Thanks.” Her voice is small and docile. “And I’ll um, ice my ankle.”

  “Good.” I stand and go to the door. “There’s a paper and a pen in your nightstand. Tonight, make your decision to stay or go. Write yes or no and put it under the door.”

  She blinks at me. She’s never looked more innocent. “Under the door?”

  “I’ll see it in the morning. If you write no, you’ll get dressed and I’ll drive you to your parents’ house. We’ll never see or speak to each other again.”

  “And if…I write yes?” she asks.

  I switch off the light, plunging us both into darkness. “If you write yes, then you’re mine.”

  Grace

  During the night, Isaac comes for me.

  I’m young again, barely fourteen. Images tumble through my mind, dark dominos falling one after another. Tearing lace. Screams. The taste of my own warm, metallic blood.

  I’m lost in a nightmare and I can’t get out.

  Sweat trickles between my breasts. Wherever I am, it’s not safe. My head swims. It’s too dark to see.

  It smells like the church basement. Concre
te and dust. Wet wool. Old wood pews and floor wax.

  I drag in a breath and try to hold onto right now. It slips away. I hear a harsh voice in my ear, but the words jumble together.

  “Why?” I hear myself say.

  “Because we belong together,” a man replies. Isaac. His horrible whiskered face scrapes against my cheek. I claw at his stiff shirt as his fingers thrust into my panties.

  I have my period. I’m bleeding. He doesn’t seem to notice or care.

  He kisses my neck. I feel his thick lips and tongue, and then his teeth.

  “I like the way you look at me.” His voice turns my stomach.

  “Please don’t. My father –”

  All of a sudden he’s mean. He’s twisting my arm. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

  “But – I thought you liked me.”

  “I do, Gracie.” He pushes my face hard into the wall and rips my panties off.

  “No!” I try to scream, but then I see something across the room. A shadow, a black hole. Whatever it is, it’s worse than what’s happening to me. It’s worse than anything in the world.

  I wake up choking on my own silent screams. A shudder runs through me, and I sob without crying. I feel sick. I can still smell him, feel him, taste his bitter cologne on my tongue.

  I drag in deep breaths and look around. I’m in a locked room at the Bristol Mansion. For a long time I lie staring into the dark.

  He’s not here. No. This is a different kind of hell.

  That was a dream. Reality is almost worse.

  Isaac or Bram. Two terrible choices. Rapist or murderer. Abuser or abuser.

  I can almost feel my bones crack as fury rips me apart. I bite the pillow, claw the sheets until my fingers feel raw.

  Bram called it a choice. It isn’t. It’s a trick. A mindfuck so twisted it unburied a ten year-old torment. Thanks for that.

  You want to leap off a cliff or drown in the river? Your choice, buttercup.

  I can’t leave. He knows it.

  It doesn’t matter who I choose. Everybody will control me. Everybody will hurt and use me.

  But only one is promising a reward. The millions I and James’s parents deserve. The chance to extract a pound of flesh.

  I never thought I was a violent person, but that chance convinced me. He’ll even do it himself. If he means it. And I believe he does. I shouldn’t trust what I saw in his eyes, but I do.