Undo Me (The Good Ol' Boys #3)

by M. Robinson

  I was at a loss.

  I didn’t know what I could do. I didn’t know what I could say. I didn’t know one damn thing on how to handle this.

  To handle her.

  When I heard the shower start running, pure panic set into my bones.

  She was cleaning off all the evidence.

  “What the fuck, Aubrey?” I lamented out loud to myself, looking up at the ceiling. Silently praying to God that this was a nightmare I would soon wake up from. A God-awful dream.

  Something…

  Anything…

  Than what was actually happening.

  It didn’t take long to hear her sobs, each one of them tore into my heart, my soul, my mind, as if I was the one crying. The longer I stood there, the louder they got.

  “Please, God,” I wept, looking back up at the ceiling again. “Please… help me, help her. Please… I beg you.” I wasn’t an extremely religious man, but I did believe in the power of prayer.

  But at that moment I would have sold my soul to the devil if it meant it would take away her pain, undo what had just happened, and her memory of this day.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I ran into the room, slowly walking toward the bathroom as if I was walking towards my execution. In a way, I was. With each step my heart pounded faster, it rang louder in my ears. I gripped the handle, leaning my forehead against the door for a few seconds. Praying once again she wouldn’t push me away. I took a deep, shaky breath and gradually opened the door.

  My stomach dropped.

  My heart was now in my throat with bile rising, but I swallowed it back down. The glass shower doors so fucking foggy with steam immediately pouring out of the bathroom as if she couldn’t get the water hot enough. Her skin bright red, which only accented all the bruises on the side of her stomach, her arms, and down her legs.

  She was sitting in the middle of the shower with her legs pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her face tucked in between, sobbing so fucking hard, her entire fragile frame shaking uncontrollably.

  The memory of seeing her like this would forever haunt me. There wouldn’t be one day where I wouldn’t see her like that.

  Falling apart in front of me.

  Not. One. Day.

  I didn’t even bother to take off my shorts or sneakers. I opened the glass door and she never stopped bawling, if anything she just cried harder. I approached her with caution, terrified that she would push me away, but not caring if she did. I needed to hold her, to help her, to do fucking something. I crouched to sit down behind her, straddling my legs around her body.

  I gently touched her back with the tips of my fingers, where more bruises and cuts had formed, instantly shutting my eyes remembering that I put some of them on her last night. I shook my head, feeling nothing but disgust towards myself. Her body shuddered when she felt me, but I didn’t stop.

  I couldn’t.

  My fingers moved to her sides, her stomach, and down to her legs. Wanting to transfer all the hurt and the pain that she was feeling to me. Wanting to remember that I did this. That I was the reason she was raped. That I was the reason my girl was gone.

  It was entirely my fault.

  I sucked in air, my chest heaving from my own sobs. She was hysterically crying at that point. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her into my chest, and she let me.

  As soon as she was in my arms I broke down.

  “I’m so sorry, baby… I’m so fucking sorry… please… please… I’ll do anything for you to forgive me… please…” I wallowed in her misery and my own. “I’m so fucking sorry…”

  I don’t know who was crying more. Steaming hot water rushed down on us as if it was cleaning off the mistakes that I would never be able to change. Never be able to make better, never be able to forget.

  We stayed like that until the water was freezing and her skin started to turn blue. I shut off the shower and cradled her in my arms, grabbing a towel and laying it on her. I took her up to our bedroom, taking each stair with ease. I pulled back the comforter and sheets before gently placing her under them. She didn’t move from the place I laid her, just stared up at the ceiling that I was praying to, minutes maybe hours before, and I wondered if she was doing the same thing.

  I took off my shorts, grabbing a dry pair of boxers. I sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her for a few more seconds. I slowly gripped the seam of the towel and she immediately froze, holding her arms tightly around her torso.

  “Shhh…” I whispered, placing her hand over my heart. “Shhh… feel me, suga’, feel my heart beating for you.” I placed my hand over hers and gently rubbed my thumb up and down.

  She shut her eyes but still didn’t relax. I carefully took off the towel, never letting go of her hand. Her face fell to the side the moment it was fully off her. My hand went straight to my mouth.

  My sadness turned quickly into rage.

  There wasn’t a place on her torso that wasn’t black and blue, what looked like a boot print etched near her belly button. I fell over, holding myself up with my hand on the other side of her waist. Breaking over my girl that was already broken. With my teeth chattering, I kissed her bruised cheek, her neck, her chest, her waist, her wrists, every place that I saw a mark, I touched it with my lips. Her body remained stiff the entire time, but she didn’t stop me.

  I would take what I could get.

  By the time I made it down to her waist, I was shaking, closing my eyes to get the courage to look at her sacred area that wasn’t mine anymore.

  “Please, don’t,” she wept, reading my mind.

  “Baby, I have to make sure you’re okay. I’m not going to touch you,” I replied with agony laced in my tone, not wanting to look but needing to.

  She sniffled, sucking in air as I spread her legs, opening my eyes. I resisted the urge to fucking hit something when I saw the bruises on her inner thighs and her swollen folds. There was a tiny tear at her opening, and I had to look away unable to control the anger and remorse I felt burning inside.

  She rolled over to her side, cradling her body in a fetal position. I scooted up toward her front and engulfed her in my arms. Her face now mere inches from mine with her dark dilated eyes, vacant, soulless, and dead.

  “I love you. I love you so fucking much,” I blurted, needing to have her hear me say it.

  She just blinked with no emotion whatsoever.

  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I repeated, over and over again like a broken record, kissing all along her face.

  She tucked her face into my neck and cried.

  I lay there trying to hold her together, knowing it didn’t matter. She wasn’t the only one who died that day…

  I died, too.

  I didn’t sleep one second that night.

  I barely remembered closing my eyes. Every time I did it took me right back to the moment my life was abruptly taken from me.

  When I died.

  I thought I hurt that day, but the pain the next morning was almost unbearable. There wasn’t one place on my body that felt like mine anymore. I was a stranger in my own skin.

  Dylan held me the entire night, refusing to let me go. I wish I could tell you it gave me comfort, or made me feel safe, loved, and cared for.

  It didn’t.

  It made me sick to my fucking stomach.

  His scent.

  I resisted the urge to push him away and throw up all night. From the second he touched every one of my bruises in the shower, to the way he kissed over every one of them in the bed, down to the minute he looked in between my legs. I wanted to be sick.

  I let him hold me because what else could I do?

  I didn’t blame him.

  But I couldn’t look at him either. Everything I loved about him was ripped away from me, his touch, his lips, his music, his smell.

  His love.

  Every single time I looked at him all I felt was hatred, hatred for the man that did nothing but love me.

 
He stirred a little when I moved away from him and I bit my lip hard to hold in the pain and not let it escape through my mouth. I didn’t want to wake him. I didn’t even want to be near him right now.

  I don’t know what time it was when I decided to give up on pretending to sleep. I winced the instant my feet touched the carpeted floor, holding onto my ribs that were definitely broken. I stood there for a few seconds, breathing through the agony that took over the body I didn’t recognize. I slowly walked toward the bathroom, trying not to make a sound.

  I wanted to be alone, I used to hate to be alone.

  I wanted and needed to take another shower. To rinse away the filth that covered my entire body.

  I could still smell him.

  I could still hear him.

  I could still fucking feel him all over.

  When I finally reached the bathroom, I made sure to lock the door behind me. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that I would allow Dylan to hold me again. Once was enough. I cringed at the thought. I leaned over on the counter, completely naked and alone. Desperately trying to hold up my frame that seemed to want to give out on me.

  I peered up into the mirror, and I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, glazed over, and hollow. Her cheek had a bruise right at the bridge. I brought my hand up to it and the image of him backhanding me across the face immediately flew through my mind. Her neck had finger marks and bruises. There wasn’t any skin color left on her chest, ribs, and stomach- they were purple, blue, and black all over.

  I touched the boot print near my belly button and shook my head, closing my eyes to block out the memory of him kicking me before he left me there to die. My hand moved down to my folds as if a string was pulling it, I hissed out in pain before I even got to my pubic bone. My gaze never left the mirror as I took in every last inch of my broken body. Gradually turning around to see my back that resembled my torso.

  I scoffed in disgust when I thought about how much I wanted Dylan to mark me the night before. To leave bruises on me. To make me his.

  Did I ask for this?

  Did I bring it on myself?

  Dylan’s markings intertwined with his and I couldn’t tell them apart. I didn’t know which I asked for and which I didn’t.

  I didn’t know anything anymore. I was a black hole of nothing.

  I turned on the shower, setting it on the hottest temperature possible, stepping inside, welcoming the heat. Hoping that it would burn away my tainted skin, scorch away the feeling of his hands all over me, his body on top of mine. The hold I knew that would never go away, no matter how much I tried, how much I wanted it to.

  My mind ran wild. I couldn’t get it to stop, image after image of my brutal attack playing out in front of me. I was like a hamster on a spinning wheel with nowhere to go.

  Round and round in circles with no end in sight.

  I heard the rustling of the doorknob and then the knocking on the door.

  “Darlin’,” he spoke as I pressed my hands against the shower wall, leaning my forehead on the cool rustic tile.

  “Baby, please,” he begged, making me cringe with the simple word baby.

  I closed my eyes and all I could see was him. The coward who hid behind a cloak of anonymity, the monster who raped me physically and killed my very being.

  And all I could smell was Dylan.

  I fell over, heaving down the drain.

  “Shit! Aubrey, open the damn door!” He pounded.

  I threw up again, holding my ribs that ached in pain. Protesting against my actions.

  “Ugh!” I let out, hurling up some more. I spit, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I slid down the tile.

  “Aubrey! Please! Please, don’t do this!” he pleaded, beating on the door.

  I instantly placed my hands over my ears, tuning out his voice, shutting out my own. I shook my head back and forth.

  “Leave me alone! Please just leave me alone!” I shouted until my voice felt raw.

  The banging on the door stopped.

  Except the one in my mind had only just started.

  We stayed a few extra days, giving Aubrey some time before she had to face anyone back home.

  I couldn’t tell you how many showers she took, she would stay in there for hours upon hours, as I sat waiting for her to talk to me, to look at me, to acknowledge that I was even in the fucking room.

  She never did.

  She didn’t raise her gaze to mine.

  She didn’t sleep in our room.

  She didn’t want to be anywhere near me.

  She either showered or she lay in the room that I brought her to after I found her. The door stayed closed and locked.

  I would knock to tell her I left food by the door, but I would come back hours later and the food remained on the ground untouched. The days went by like that with no change, no progress, nothing. I went to sleep every night praying that she would come to me, that she would crawl into my bed and let me hold her. Let me tell her how much I loved her and how sorry I was. How I would spend the rest of my life making it up to her. I held onto the hope that after some time she would let me back in. I barely slept, waking up in pure panic every night remembering how I found her lifeless and everything that happened after. Her dead eyes and broken body was the only image I saw of her now.

  My girl was gone.

  I woke up one morning, groggy as hell and looked over at the clock. It read almost noon. I shook off the sleep, surprised that I even slept in that late. The sleepless nights and overwhelming days must have caught up with me. I sat at the edge of the bed, leaning forward to place my elbows on my knees. I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it away from my face and holding it at the nook of my neck.

  I sat there contemplating and racking my brain for what I could do that day to make it different than the last. I gave up trying after a few minutes. I threw on some gym shorts and made my way to the kitchen to make us some breakfast, even though I already knew Aubrey wasn’t going to eat it. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw that her bedroom door was open. I immediately ran toward it in hopes that she would let me see her.

  That she was waiting for me.

  When I reached the room it was empty, her bed untouched like she hadn’t even been sleeping in it. I opened the bathroom door, and she was nowhere in sight.

  “Aubrey?” I called out into the house to no avail. “What the fuck?”

  I walked outside and peered around, calling out her name some more. The rental car still securely parked in the grass. I went back into her room and that’s when I noticed her suitcase was gone. I opened the drawers and all her clothes had disappeared, too. I turned in a circle searching for something, anything, raking my hands through my hair, ready to pull it out.

  “Jesus Christ,” I muttered to myself.

  She left without saying goodbye.

  I called her cell phone and it went straight to voicemail. I texted her a few times and got no response. I waited for hours, worried sick. How could she do this, after everything? Our flight was supposed to leave the very next afternoon, but she couldn’t even wait one more damn day to get away from me. I spent the entire day trying to call her and text her again and again, finally giving up around nine.

  I called her mom.

  “Hey, honey,” she answered. “Are you as exhausted as Aubrey?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Something like that.”

  She laughed. “You kids had a good time, huh? Aubrey looks like she hasn’t slept in days.”

  I nodded even though she couldn’t see me.

  “That was quite a fall though. I wish one of you had told me. I’m not very happy about being left in the dark.”

  “Fall?” I asked, confused. I had to sit down to hear this.

  “Aubrey told me about you guys running through the trails and her sliding down a hill into a valley. She looks so beat up, Dylan, but she told me you took good care of her and she went to a clinic to get looked at. I
understand that you guys didn’t want me to worry.”

  I was instantly sick to my fucking stomach.

  “Dylan? Honey, are you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, ma’am.” I cleared my throat, my voice breaking.

  “Oh, it’s okay. I know you would never let anything happen to our girl. I know she’s safe with you. I understand accidents happen, just next time please let me know, so I’m not surprised when I see my daughter walk in with bruises and cuts on her body.”

  “Mmm hmm…” Was all I could manage to get out.

  “Are you alright? Aubrey said she wasn’t feeling good. She’s been in her room all day in bed. She barely touched her lunch and dinner. You guys coming down with something?”

  “Maybe,” I simply stated.

  “Well, get better, okay? I know Aubrey can’t go more than a few hours without seeing you,” she laughed.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Was there a reason you were calling?”

  “Umm… yeah.” I scratched my head. “Aubrey wasn’t answering her phone. I just wanted to make sure she was alright.”

  “Awww, Dylan. You’re a mothers dream for their daughter. I’ll tell her you called.”

  “Thank you. Have a goodnight.”

  “You too.”

  I hung up with her mom. I was livid, for all I knew she could have been dead somewhere. My anger got the best of me. I took my phone and threw at the wall. I watched it break just like my heart had.

  I went home by myself the next afternoon.

  I drove to her house as soon as my plane landed. I barely had my Jeep in park before I opened the door to get out. I made it up her porch steps in three strides and knocked on her front door, but no one answered. I knew her mom would be at work. I stepped back and looked up at her bedroom window, it was dark and I couldn’t see a thing.

  I knew she was in there.

  I could feel her.

  “Darlin’, please…” I shouted, praying that she would hear me and open the front door.

  She didn’t.

  I sat on her porch with my back against the door for hours, knocking every few minutes. I realized she wouldn’t answer, but I hoped that maybe her knowing that I was there, still waiting for her, would reassure her that I wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what.