Illicit Dose Of Scars: A Dark Rockstar Romance (Love Sick #1)

by Regina Ann Faith

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Go kill it at the shoot.”

  Journee grabs her keys and heads out. As soon as she’s gone, I text the guys to finalize our plans. Man, I need this. With all our practices and shows . . . I just need to drink and get high.

  I straighten up my apartment a bit before settling on the couch to watch a football game, waiting for them to come over. The game’s just about to end when there’s a knock on the door.

  “Hey, Knox. I hope you don’t mind us bringing a few friends with us,” Reid says as he comes in, Ezra and three girls I don’t know trailing behind him.

  Ezra gestures toward the girls, who are each taking a seat on my couch. “This is Delaney, Quinn, and Rory.”

  “Nice apartment,” the one named Quinn says.

  “Thank you,” I say as I get up to grab some beers from the fridge.

  “Do you live alone?” one of the others asks. I think it’s Delaney?

  I hand her a beer. “My girlfriend lives with me.”

  “Oh, too bad. You’re cute.”

  Quinn leans closer to Delaney, but I can hear her loud and clear. “I bet you can get him to fuck you by the end of the night with no problem, Laney.”

  “Quinn, he has a girlfriend,” Ezra cuts in. I do have a girlfriend. Last time I checked, they do too. But I guess they don’t give a fuck about Sarai or Willow right now.

  Rory takes a swig of beer. “So?”

  I don’t know what these guys were thinking, bringing these girls over to my apartment, so I just focus on drinking my beer. Laney is super hot . . . but I have Journee. Damn, it is tempting though.

  We mingle a bit, talking about whatever, before we bring out the weed. I go a little overboard, smoking four joints and chugging two more beers on top of that.

  I’m more than buzzed and more than a little high. Is the room spinning a bit? Next thing I know, a chick comes over and starts to making out with me. Laney, right? This is Laney. Yeah.

  As Laney and I are making out, I feel her slip something into my pants pocket. Damn. Where are Reid and Ezra? Oh, they’re making out with the other chicks. Fuck them. They got girlfriends too, but they were so ready to point out I have one.

  I’m disoriented as fuck, so I really don’t know what’s going on. The next thing I know, I’m stark naked on my bed with whoever this chick is that Ezra and Reid brought over on top of me fucking the shit out of me.

  After it’s all said and done, this chick just up and leaves. I lie on my bed alone to try and process what just happened. This was supposed to have been a guys get-together. I wasn’t expecting them to bring girls over. Guilt starts to creep in, then depression, then anger. What the fuck did I just do?

  My emotions get the best of me, and I’m like “Fuck it.” I go back into the kitchen and grab two more beers. I drink them straight down. Then I roll a few more joints and smoke them as well. I’m so angry at myself for letting this happen. I’m also angry at Journee for not being here when clearly I needed her to be.

  six

  Journee

  We took photos during the daylight and at sunset. Todd Werner loved the shots he took of me, and I was so thrilled he let me preview the pictures through his camera lens.

  I text Knox to let him know I’m on my way home, but I don’t get a response the whole ride, which is weird. It’s not like him to not respond. It’s pitch black when I make it inside the apartment. There isn’t one light on, and the place reeks of weed and alcohol. I look around, and the apartment is literally trashed.

  “Knox? Knox!” No answer.

  My heart starts to race and pound out of my chest. What if something terrible happened while I was gone? Nervous, I approach our bedroom. What if Knox is passed out on the floor? Or worse . . . No, I don’t want to think about that.

  I go inside our bedroom only to let out a scream when Knox grabs me by my arms and starts ripping my clothes off. He digs his nails deep into my skin, causing me to whimper in pain at how aggressive he is. Then he throws me onto our bed. The sheets feel like sand paper on my exposed body, gritty and abrasive. As I’m lying on the bed, Knox slides my panties down my legs and hurls them to the floor. He undoes his zipper and pulls out his dick. He climbs on top of me and tightly holds my wrists right above my head. Knox parts my legs with his knee. He shoves his dick deep inside me and starts thrusting back and forth.

  “I waited forever to fuck your brains out,” he whispers, as if enjoying my pain.

  He continues thrusting in and out, deep and hard, and I don’t know what to think. He’s never acted like this before. This is the first time he’s fucked me without a condom on, and it hurts. It feels like he’s ripping my insides out. He’s huge, and every thrust makes my eyes water —it’s so painful. Seeing the expression on my face, Knox speeds up his rhythm and tells me he wants to make me bleed, wants to make me sore.

  “You are mine, and I can do whatever the hell I want to you,” he says in cruel delight.

  “Your daddy can’t save you now. You are my little whore.”

  After what seems like an eternity, Knox finally pulls out. But he isn’t through with me yet. He cups my jaw with his rough, calloused fingers. I clench my mouth shut, realizing what he wants me to do. This makes him even angrier. His grip tightens, forcing my mouth open, and he forces the tip of his dick right between my lips. All I can taste is his salty semen as he begins moving his dick around in my mouth.

  “Suck it, like a straw, baby,” he all but demands. “You know you want to.” I do as I’m told, and I sit there until my mouth is filled with his semen. Knox pulls out and holds my jaws closed. “Now swallow it.”

  I do.

  He smirks. “Good girl.” He then gets up and steps back into his boxers, which had previously been discarded on the floor. I can only lie there, stark naked, sore, and bleeding—like he promised. “Don’t bother getting dressed,” he says before he leaves for the living room. “I’ll be back for more.”

  Once he’s gone, I’m free to wonder what in the hell is happening. Why is he like this?

  How did he get to this point? The covers on the bed are all disheveled, and I can see where my blood has stained the sheets. I’m afraid to move because of the pain. My throat feels like it’s on fire, and all I want is a drink to quench the burning sensation. I can hear Knox in the kitchen opening the fridge—probably to grab a beer—before turning on the TV.

  After a while, Knox comes back into the bedroom, and he has a friend with him.

  “Journee, Laney. Laney, Journee,” he introduces us, a devilish look in his eyes

  I’m still naked, but I’m under the covers at this point. Knox doesn’t seem to care. “Get up and come here,” he commands. I get up and stand right next to him, trying to control my slight muscle spasms.

  Then he says, “Kiss her.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “I say kiss her.” He raises his voice ever so slightly. “Now!”

  Laney is just standing there. I hesitate at first, but seeing how Knox is in rare form tonight, I don’t disobey. She kisses me back, tongue and all. Knox watches us, his dick out, pumping himself, and I can’t help but wonder what he’ll have us do next.

  After Laney and I finish making out, Knox turns to her. “Strip.” Laney starts taking her clothes off, and then we’re both naked in front of him.

  Knox smirks. “Bend over, ladies. I’m going to enjoy fucking both of you in the ass.” Laney and I both do what he says. We bend over, with our hands on the edge of the bed and asses in the air.

  “You’re first, my little whore,” he tells me.

  His dick sprung straight in the air, he lowers himself and slowly pushes it in my ass. No lubrication, no prep—it hurts like hell. Which is probably exactly what he wants. The rapid inand-out motion of his dick burns. My body goes in sync with the movement of it. He moves to Laney after a while and fucks her in the ass too.

  When he’s done, he says, “There’s one more thing I would like to witness.”

/>   “What’s that?” I say, Laney and I both still bent over.

  “Laney, lay on the bed and spread your legs,” he orders her. She does exactly what Knox says. “Journee, eat her out,” he instructs.

  “Hell no,” I tell him. That earns me a forceful slap across the face.

  “I said go down on her,” Knox says, voice raised as he pushes me toward her pussy.

  “Now, do it.”

  Laney lets out several breathy moans as I go down on her. Her whole body jerks, and she starts grinding her hips wildly. Then Laney finally climaxes and comes in my mouth with Knox just standing there and watching us with a sinister grin. He yanks me by the hair and pulls me away from Laney before telling her to get dressed and leave. I start crying when she’s gone, and my gag reflexes kick in as I try throwing up Laney’s cum. My mind is completely fucked as to why Knox had me do these things. He’s either not himself, just wanted to get his kicks off, or both.

  As I’m bawling, curled up on the floor, Knox sits right beside me. “I wanted to break your spirit so much that reliving the pain I just inflicted on you was your only option.” He places my hands on his dick. “I’m sore. Can you rub it for me?”

  I dare not tell him no after what he just made me do. So I massage his dick. “Yes, baby. Harder. Fuck, yes,” he moans, bucking his hips into my hands. It isn’t long before he comes, and makes me lick the mess off my hands. He kisses me after.

  “Thanks, babe.” He picks me up, lays me on the bed, and puts the covers on me. “Now get some sleep,” he says nonchalantly, as if this whole night never happened.

  The dream starts with me standing in the middle of a lit room. Then the room goes dark. Shards of glass start falling from the ceiling and scrape up my skin. I wake up from this dream with my heart pounding out of my chest, sweating profusely. I remember feeling like I needed to see the blood from the glass cutting my skin, as if it were the only way I could feel alive. It’s a hard pill to swallow—knowing that I put myself in this situation. I thought I knew Knox. I thought he wouldn’t dare hurt me. I gave up the opportunity to go move with my dad to live with Knox. I trusted him. My dad trusted him, and this is what the fucking bastard does. I start shaking because I’m so angry. I want to throw something, anything. But instead, I just bawl my eyes out for what feels like the millionth time this morning.

  I get a voicemail message from a photographer who wants to confirm if I am still available this afternoon for an ad shoot for Camp Out, a local campsite. They want to draw in more college-age people. He also asks if I got the outfit he chose for me from The Casual Corner, a clothing store. The campsite isn’t actually that far away, meaning I don’t have to drive two hours away again. I’m thankful for that, but how the fuck am I going to do a photoshoot and have people touch me without wanting to spazz out on them? Breathe. I decide the hell with it. I need the money, and I need to build my portfolio.

  I make my way to the bathroom. I’m sore all over, and it really hurts to walk, but I manage. I don’t feel like taking a shower, so I run a bath instead. I let the water fill up the tub to the brim. I’m not really paying that much attention and almost let the water overflow. I look at myself in the mirror before I get in. That is the biggest mistake. I don’t see myself. Instead, I see all the bruises—on my face, down my neck, on my wrists where Knox squeezed my arms together above my head. I don’t even want to look at the rest of my body, so I turn away and step into the tub.

  I submerge myself in the lukewarm water. While I’m under the water, my thoughts drift to a dangerous place. I could easily let myself drown, and Knox could totally be blamed for my death. Ha! That would be shitty for him. But then I think about my dad. He would have to also deal with my death on top of my mom’s, which would be unfair to him. I wouldn’t want to subject him to more pain, even more than what he’s already been through. While I’m so tempted let myself drown, I finally come up for air.

  I dry off, then go back into my bedroom to get dressed. This photoshoot, I was told, will take place at a hiking trail in the woods. I’m about to open the package I ordered per the photographer’s suggestion, and I am nervous. The outfit is a knee-length, Aztec-print dress and brown knee-high boots. The dress sports red, brown, blue, white, black, and gray patterns. It’s so cute, and it fits perfectly. I look through the package for the gold earrings and brown fringe belt that go with it. I’m so excited, though I am a little apprehensive too. I’m worried about all that transpired with me over the course of the morning. But I’m not going to let that stop me from pursuing my dreams.

  I drive to the hiking trail we’re using for the shoot. The drive up is a cathartic release I very much needed. The scenery is breathtaking. The trees are tall, with their colorful leaves blowing in the wind. Such beauty, even in the eyes of a broken girl. It, oddly enough, reminds me of the first date Knox and I went on at the botanical garden. I’ve been crying off and on the whole morning, and this is what I needed to feel grounded again. I’m not sure how things will go with my emotional state, but this is what I love to do, and nothing will put a damper on my ambition.

  As soon as I arrive at the hiking trail, I park my car, but sit in it for a few minutes to collect my thoughts before going into the photoshoot. I don’t want the photographer to sense something’s wrong. I am not ready to tell to anyone that I’ve been raped by my boyfriend. That’s why I put on a layer of makeup prior. I don’t want anyone to see the bruises on my face or my body. Thank God for concealer. I finally get the courage to get out of my car and walk up to the trail.

  Connor Abrams is a local photographer. He’s forty-two years old, with salt and pepper hair, and is dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt—very dapper looking. He has about five people on his crew. There’s also another model that’s at the shoot. She looks about my age, with long black hair and green eyes, and she is wearing a similar-looking Aztec-print dress with kneehigh boots.

  “Journee, so glad you could come to this shoot,” Connor tells me as I’m walking up to where they are.

  “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Abrams.”

  “Call me Connor, Journee. This is Francesca. She will be taking part in the shoot as well.”

  “Hey, Francesca,” I say, extending my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Call me Chesca. And we do hugs around here,” Chesca states as she embraces me.

  I don’t know how I feel during or after her embrace. It’s weird. I don’t think I feel anything, to be honest. I just feel hollow and numb. I know I’m somewhat rigid, but at least I don’t pull away from her.

  “Journee, you’re up first,” Connor says. I listen to how and where he wants me to pose. First up is hugging a nearby tree with one knee bent. An easy enough pose. I smile at Connor’s lens, and the flashes of the camera take over.

  “Great, Journee. You look like a natural. But wait— your hair.” Conner starts walking toward me. I hold my breath as he fixes my hair. He then gives me a puzzled look. Did I flinch when he touched me?

  “I’m okay,” I tell him.

  “Are you sure?”

  I give him a half-smile. “Yes.”

  Shit. I don’t want to give off the vibe that something’s wrong with me, but that quickly fails. Now I have Francesca looking at me, as well as the bluish-green-eyed guy that’s also on the crew. Damn it.

  “Why don’t we let Chesca go,” Connor says. “We’ll give you a little break, okay, Journee?”

  I step away from the tree to go sit in a one of those portable fold-up chairs. I sit there, watching how effortlessly Chesca works the camera. She”s definitely a natural, and I can”t help but wonder if she has any dark secrets too. Has she dealt with what I went through? Does she have some hidden trauma too?

  “Yes, Chesca. Good, good,” Connor says between flashes.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I feel the guy from earlier glancing at me. He acts like he can’t take his eyes off of me. What is he staring at? I’m tempted throw a mean glare back at him, bu
t I don’t want to make a scene or have him think I’m a bitch. So I just keep watching Chesca.

  Finishing up, Conner politely asks me, “Would you like to try again, Journee?”

  “Can we just call it a day? I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have committed to this if I wasn’t up to it,” I tell him honestly.

  “Yes, sure. Don’t apologize. There will be other photoshoots in the future. I will definitely keep you in mind.”

  “Thank you for understanding.”

  Connor invites us all to have lunch at Curry Collective, a local Thai restaurant. Before we head to the restaurant, while I’m about to walk to my car, Chesca stops me. “Hey, I noticed how fidgety you were back there. Was this your first photoshoot?”

  “No, it’s not. I just went through something this morning,” I tell her vaguely.

  “Oh . . .” She looks concerned.

  “Let’s go, girls,” Connor calls out to us from his car.

  “I’m okay,” I say to Chesca, getting into my car. “I’ll see you at the restaurant.”

  Connor, Chesca, and the rest of the crew beat me to Curry Collective. So I quickly park my car and grab my cell and purse before heading into the restaurant. I glance down at my cell. Knox never even texted me. I could have been dead in a ditch somewhere. Would he even give two fucks about it? Even though what happened this morning was traumatizing, part of me wants Knox to own up to what he did. As sick as this sounds, after all I’ve been through, I still love him.

  “We have eight people,” Connor says as a one of the workers, a woman, comes up to the front stand.

  “Right this way.” She leads us to a private room in the back. As we sit around the table, she’s hands us the menus. “I’ll give you a few minutes to look over the menus. I’ll go and get us some waters.”

  “So are you sure you’re okay, Journee?” Connor asks me as we wait, some of the others already browsing the food selection.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” I don’t want to get into the reason why I had a slight spasm attack earlier.