by Gemma James
I wish I were as brave.
Yours always,
Alex
My hands shook as I pulled out another folded piece of paper. Her words became darker the more I read, and I was close to going inside the cabin and forcing her tell me what she hadn’t said in the letters, but I couldn’t tear myself away.
Rafe,
I got drunk tonight. Graduation is supposed to be cause for celebration, so I partook in the craziness. I shouldn’t have because I was off my game when I came home. He was waiting for me in the shadows, enraged because he thought I’d fucked someone else.
He just left my room, and now…now I’m disgusted with myself and stone cold sober. I don’t fight him anymore. Truth is, I stopped fighting him after they took you away. I fucking hate myself, Rafe. Probably more than you hate me.
He made me come tonight. It’s happened a few times before, but tonight was different. Tonight, he hit me, pinched my nipples so hard he had to smother my cries with a pillow. They weren’t cries of pain, and that’s why I’m so sick right now.
What is wrong with me?
Crazy thing is, as I write this and remember, I’m still turned on. But it’s you I’m thinking of and not him. After I’m done writing this, I’m going to climb into bed and touch myself. I’ll regret thinking of you in the morning because it’s not fair to gain pleasure when you’re where you are.
But I can’t help myself right now. I need to wash away his touch and replace it with something else. When my fingers are sliding between my thighs, I’ll pretend they’re yours, pretend your tongue is down there too. He hasn’t done that yet. I’m probably the only seventeen-year-old girl who hasn’t had her pussy eaten out.
Tonight, in my heart, in my dreams, it’ll be you.
Yours always,
Alex
Ah, holy hell. I dropped my head into my hand, her letter still clutched in the other. Reading between the lines filled me with rage. Someone had raped her for years, yet she hadn’t named him. The logical conclusion, since she’d mention he’d been waiting for her when she came home, was that it was someone in her household, or someone who spent a lot time there. An associate of her father’s? A random person hired on as help?
A boyfriend?
I wanted to hunt down whoever it was and castrate the fucker.
Her next letter called to me, and I couldn’t resist the allure of her words. Words meant for me. Words written to me. The stack had thinned considerably, yet there was so much left untold.
Rafe,
Oh. My. God. I’m so sorry. I’m so close to destroying my last letter, but I promised myself I wouldn’t. But that was TMI.
Yours always,
Alex
I shook my head, mouth turning up slightly, and like an addict, I pulled out another, and another. Her need to spill strengthened with each word, each tear that splotched the pages as she poured her heart out. I hurt for her. I hurt for me too, because the way she wrote it, she’d sent me to hell. A hell she hadn’t fully grasped, though she’d sensed it. As I continued to read, a lump formed in my throat.
My nightmares came back to haunt me again, and I did what I hadn’t been able to do before. I accepted them as memories. I’d been violated in prison. Something in that place made me snap, made me embrace the dark side of myself I’d fought for so long. I’d become the type of man who hadn’t settled for fantasies. In Alex, I’d found the perfect excuse to justify an act that was and always would be unforgivable.
I carefully unfolded her last letter, hoping she’d finally tell me what I needed to know.
Rafe,
Today I graduated college. I should be over the moon, right? I’m not. I stopped to look back at my life these past seven years and that’s when it truly hit me. I’ve left you to rot in that place all this time.
One more year, and you’ll be out.
But what will I say to you? I want to see you so badly I ache with it. The need is a beast inside me, tearing my chest open and spilling my heart onto the floor. My crush has turned into a full-fledged obsession.
Dad wants me to take over the position of managing accountant for the business. I’ve got the degree for it, but the MMA world is the last place I want to be. That’s where HE is. I’m shaking as I write this because I want so badly to write his name, but I just can’t.
At the very least, you deserve to know why I sent you to prison, and I need to get it out of me once and for all because I need to move on. Dad set me up with a business partner. He’s much older, but he’s nice. Best of all, he’s not…him.
Maybe I’m clinging to the first opportunity to break free, though it feels like I’m trading one prison for another. I don’t love this guy. I barely know him, but I can tell he’s serious about me. He’s already asked me to go with him to Paris for Christmas.
I’m stalling. I know I’m stalling. I’ve written you so many letters, but I’ve never explained. So here goes, from the beginning.
It started right after I met you. At first, I fought him. Over time, it was easier to give in. Then…I became a whore. I don’t fight him anymore because he gets me off. It’s sick and disgraceful. I know this. I’ve tried to get him to leave me alone, have even done some extreme things to break free for a while, but he always pulls me back.
When I was fifteen, he got me pregnant. I got an abortion, and when Dad found out, he went through the roof. I don’t know why he told Dad you raped me…no, that’s not true. He did it because he was jealous of you. He’s always been jealous of you.
You’re probably wondering why I went along with the lie. I ask myself the same thing all the time. But I’ve seen his rage, seen firsthand what he’s capable of, and he threatened to kill you if I didn’t back him up. Hindsight’s 20/20, they say. I know now that I should have stood up to him. You’re a big boy and could’ve taken care of yourself. At the time, though, the threat choked me.
Now it’s too late. You’ll be out in a year…less, actually. I need to let you go. I need you to get past this and be happy. I want your forgiveness more than you could know, but that’s an impossible dream. I wouldn’t forgive me. I can’t forgive myself.
Rafe, this is the last time I’ll write, and you’ll be safe because you’ll never read these letters. You’ll live your life hating me, and I’ll have to find a way to live with that. If I could say one thing to you right now, it would be how sorry I am. He did it because I love you.
Yours always,
Alex
I dropped the page, watched it flutter to the ground, and stared at it for what seemed like forever. She waited inside, and I found it ironic that she was scared to face me. That she wanted my forgiveness. I’d kidnapped and done unforgivable acts—things I couldn’t even recall—to a victim of rape. Maybe I’d feel differently if I remembered the last eight years, but I didn’t.
So that begged the question…what the fuck was I supposed to say to her?
Gathering her letters, I rose to my feet and pulled the screen door open. She’d left the front door cracked. Slowly, I stepped inside and the sound of running water brought me into the kitchen where I found her loading my fucking dishwasher like it was an everyday chore she did.
She must have sensed my presence because she shut off the faucet, though she didn’t move or turn around. “You read them?”
“Every word.” I wanted to ask her so many things. Why didn’t she send the letters? Why was she giving them to me now? Most of all, I wanted to know the name of the scumbag who’d raped her. I had my suspicions, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it yet. I placed the envelopes on the table and fisted my hands. With all the pent-up rage rushing through my veins, I was surprised at how level my words came out. “Why are you doing my dishes?”
She shrugged. “To stay busy.”
“Can you turn around and talk to me?”
“I’m scared, Rafe.”
“I already told you”—willing the anger to leave my voice and body, I unfurled my fists and relaxed
my stance—“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She propped against the counter, fingers clutching the edge. “I’m scared of what you’re thinking. We’ve been through so much together, but letting you read those letters was like giving you free access to my journal.”
“Why’d you do it then?”
She dropped her head. “I let everyone around me dictate my life. I’ve basically been a doormat. What I did, sending you away like that when you hadn’t even touched me…if I could change one thing, it would be that.” She inhaled then let the breath out in a whoosh. “I want to make this right,” she said, voice fracturing, “but I don’t know if I can do it alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you like that again.” It felt like a dick thing to say, considering how the words came from a hypocrite’s mouth, but it was the truth. I wanted to tear into the person who’d done this to her. By the time I was through, no one would recognize his disgusting face. “Who raped you?”
She paused, back straightening before she whirled around to face me. “What?” Her large green eyes rounded in shock.
Shit. Fucking amnesia. The eight-year blank she knew nothing about.
“There’s something you need to know.” I gestured toward the half-filled dishwasher. “Those can wait.” I pulled out a chair and gave her a pointed look.
Rather than cross the few feet between us, she wiped her palms on her jeans. “Why are you acting like this?” Her voice rose, on the level of screeching, and the confusion on her face splintered through me. “Don’t treat me like I’m breakable. I want you back! I need you back.” She blinked rapidly, sucked in several breaths, and to my horror, tears leaked down her cheeks. “Make me sit in that chair.”
I gaped at her, at a complete loss. “Alex…come sit down. We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk! I want you to turn back time and come after me.” She doubled over, her shoulders quaking with sobs. “I want you to take back control! Stop acting like nothing happened between us.” She wiped the hair from her eyes and slid to the floor, the fight bleeding from her body, then covered her face with her hands.
Carefully, I closed the distance and a sense of Deja vu came over me. I crouched in front of her, pulling her hands to the sides of her damp cheeks. “I don’t remember.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The last eight years, Alex.” Of their own volition, our fingers entwined. “I don’t remember any of it.”
He didn’t remember?
I searched his eyes, looking for a hint of recognition as I attempted to process what he’d told me.
Anything?
I tried to imagine what it would be like to wipe away that much pain and betrayal. Poof, gone. No more hurt, no more baggage, just a chance at a clean slate. Hadn’t I tried to do the same, albeit a more permanent method born from desperation in a bathroom in the middle of nowhere?
His fingers tightened around mine, instantly grounding me. “Now you’re the one who needs to say something.”
“I…” What if he’d forgotten for a reason? What if deep down, he didn’t want to know? “I don’t know what to say.”
He stood, pulling me with him, and led me to the chair. Though his hand pressed on my shoulder with a gentleness that surprised me, he made me lower into the seat. Some sick part of myself rejoiced in that. His odd behavior had unsettled me to my toes, his lack of imposing do-as-I-say presence. I wanted to wrap myself in it because it felt natural and familiar, and I needed that from him.
He tilted my chin up, and his mouth formed a hard line. “Who raped you?” Regardless of whether his psyche wanted to remain in the dark, some part of him still sought the truth, or he wouldn’t push for it.
“It was Zach.” I wasn’t about to repeat the same mistake. Whatever he wanted to know, I’d tell him.
His touch fell from my face, and I missed the contact instantly. “Did I know that? Before I lost my memory?”
“Yes.”
He let out a breath. “This is a lot for me to take in, Alex. I woke up in the hospital thinking I was twenty-one. The fight against Zach in Seattle is the last memory I have.” He clenched his jaw. “What happened the night I was shot?”
Suddenly, it dawned on me. He hadn’t come after me…not because he hadn’t cared but because he’d lost his memory. “Zach showed up. You guys fought, then you made me get into a boat.” I swallowed hard, but the memory of their last fight—the blast of the gun that still ricocheted in my head, even now—burned in my eyes and nose. “You tried to protect me, but he…he…”
“He shot me?”
I nodded, too choked up to speak.
He crouched in front of me, took my right arm in his hands, and ran his fingertips down the material hiding the ugly scars that had scabbed over. All I wanted was to throw myself at him and beg him to hold me, to never let go. I wanted to hide in his embrace forever. What an impossible, dangerous idea. Zach wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted…me.
“Is he in jail?”
I shook my head.
“Why the hell not?”
“Dad’s covering for him again.” I tucked my lip between my teeth. “He said Zach would leave me alone, but he cornered me in a restaurant today.”
Rafe pushed up my sleeve and caressed the wound I’d inflicted on myself. “Why did you come here? Why didn’t you go to the cops?”
“You make me feel safe.” I trembled under the warmth of his touch. “I don’t trust anyone else. Don’t make me leave.”
“I fucking kidnapped you, Alex. I might not remember the details, but I know that much. Jax filled me in, and I saw the prison in the cellar. How can you feel safe around me?”
“Because I’m as twisted as you are.”
“I think that’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.” His thumb rubbed over my scar. “Tell me what happened here.”
I shook my head, my brain refusing to go back to that cabin, even though I’d promised myself I’d tell him anything. “I can’t talk about it. Please don’t make me.”
“Make you?” He looked at me in confusion. “You keep using that word.”
“You’ve obviously forgotten the power you have over me.”
“Then tell me. I need to know what happened. All of it.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” He tangled his fingers with mine. “Because we’re going to the police and they’ll need to hear it.”
I shook my head. “My father will have me committed. He’s got everyone thinking I’m crazy, that I tried to kill myself.”
“Did you?” His attention landed on my arms.
I studied our joined hands. “It’s not what you think. I tried to get away from Zach, but he kept me high on ecstasy half the time.” I blinked rapidly. “I convinced myself he was you, and…”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m listening.”
Turning my head, I gazed out the window at the cloudless sky, too ashamed to face him. “He snapped after I cried out your name.” I untangled our hands and slowly lifted my shirt.
Rafe stood, bringing my attention back to him. His jaw twitched and his green eyes went so dark, I was glad his anger wasn’t directed at me. “He did that to you?” Fury drenched his words, flooded the space between us with an oath of retribution.
Closing my eyes, I nodded. “Afterward, I…I lost my mind and locked myself in the bathroom, broke the mirror and…I just wanted him to stop.”
Without warning, he pulled me from the chair and into the shelter of his arms. One hand tangled in my hair as the other held me to his shaking body. “He’ll never hurt you again.”
Standing on tiptoes, I clutched his shirt and burrowed into the crook of his shoulder. “I wasn’t the only one he hurt. He wrecked your life, Rafe. We both did, and I am so, so sorry. I know I need to turn him in but—”
“Stop.” He pulled back and framed my face in his hands. “If it’s forgivenes
s you’re asking for, you’ve got it. Fuck, Alex, I’ll never forget the sight of you in that hospital bed. If I’d known, there’s no way in hell I would have left you there.” He drew in a deep breath. “But none of it matters as much as you being able to heal from all of this. You were only fifteen, way too fucking young to be held accountable for a decision your rapist coerced you into making.”
Hot tears slipped from my eyes, dripping down my face in relief. In the deepest and darkest crevices of my being, I’d never believed he’d be able to forgive me. A lump of anxiety formed in my throat, and I swallowed, but it only crashed into the pit of my stomach. His forgiveness wouldn’t keep me safe from Zach’s madness…wouldn’t keep him safe.
“He’ll come after us both. He’s insane and jealous—”
“You need to turn him in, Alex.” His hands fell from my face. “Zach belongs in jail. Fuck, I belong in jail. We’re gonna do something about it, regardless of what your piece-of-shit father has to say.”
My gaze darted through the window where trees obscured the bane of my existence. Those plans were terrifying—they involved getting into a boat again. They involved coming forward. I wasn’t sure which I dreaded more. “I won’t tell them what you did. If you want me to talk to the police, then you staying out of jail is my stipulation.”
“I won’t argue with that. I’d rather be here protecting you than sitting in a jail cell, so I guess we’d better get our stories straight.”
I glanced at her in the passenger seat. The pallor of her skin worried me. So did the way she wrung her hands in her lap. She’d barely said two words since we’d left the island, except to insist on going to the sheriff’s department here in Dante’s Pass instead of filing the report in Portland. The boat ride had thoroughly rattled her, and I dreaded the trip back to the cabin. By the end of the day, I feared she’d hate my guts for making her go.
