“That's because it's not.”
“Two years is a long time to be with someone for what happened to not affect you,” Naomi has turned on her authoritative tone that up until now never bothered me, “but to be honest, I was more worried you two would get married and he'd take his weird sense of ownership of you to another level.”
“How long have you two felt this way about me and Will?”
They shoot another glance at each other and I tighten my fists in aggravation.
“Almost from the beginning,” Stevie softly answers.
“And you never came to me about it?” I'm proud of myself for keeping my voice at a steady level.
“You really liked him, but there was always something about him that was a bit off. At first we both just didn't like him. It wasn't until the St. Patrick's Day party that we began to worry.”
“So you're telling me that the two of you have been talking behind my back for two years!?” I shout back at them, feeling hurt and betrayed.
Naomi reaches for my arm but I shrug it off. “It wasn't like that. It's not like we consistently talked about you and sat around gossiping.”
“I need to get some fresh air,” I finish my drink and set it on the bar.
Stevie finishes off her beer, “We'll go with you. I need a smoke anyway.”
“I need a minute to myself. I know it's not rational to feel this pissed at you guys. So I just need a minute to get some fresh air. 'Kay?”
They both nod and I head for the back exit, weaving my way through the crowd. Once the cool night air hits my lungs I feel better. I slump against the brick wall next to the door and close my eyes, concentrating on deeply breathing. I shouldn't be this mad at them. I obviously have bottled-up anger over what happened with Will that I wasn't recognizing...or didn't want to recognize. I would be concerned too if I was them and witnessed what happened between Will and I back in March.
One of Will's cousin's throws a kick-ass St. Patrick's Day party every year. Before we left that year, Will had me change three times because each outfit I had chosen was “too slutty,” and then later that night he cut me off from drinking after I had had only two gimlets. His excuse was he didn't need me getting drunk and embarrassing him in front of his family. At the time it made sense; I tend to lose my clothes the drunker I get. It got ugly when a guy tried dancing with me, despite my refusal. Will saw it as me dancing with another guy and went ape-shit on the guy, beating him senseless and then grabbing my wrist so hard I had a hand print around it for days. He told me to quit being a fucking whore and dragged me upstairs to a bathroom, forcing me to sit under the shower to “sober up” while ice cold water pelted my skin. The next day he apologized over and over and I stupidly forgave him. Nothing that drastic happened again until recently, but he had grabbed hold of my arm a bit too tightly a few times and continued to demean me verbally.
I hang my head down in shame, cradling it into my hands. My friends have every right to be concerned. Had it been the other way around I would be furious at the guy. I should be furious at him for myself.
I don't even recognize myself anymore. I'm so far removed from the girl I used to be. I can't say for sure when the transformation occurred. It was a slow process, one Will had molded over the two years we were together. He was the most amazing, perfect boyfriend in the beginning. He was smart, clever, funny, romantic, all the things one looks for in a partner, so when he started making suggestions to me about what I wore, how I acted, who I spent my time with, I listened; I trusted his advice. It was only a few months into our relationship that he started to become bossy, controlling, and smothering, but I had always found some excuse as to why it was okay.
I groan into my hands. What is wrong with me that I would allow this to happen?
“Hey,” a man's voice spoke a few feet in front of me. I lift my head up to find three men peering at me with hooded eyes and sinister smiles.
Adrenaline starts pumping and my body's flight mode kicks in. I reach for the door knob next to me, only to find it locked.
Shit.
They smile more wickedly at me and step closer.
“My boyfriend's waiting for me around the corner. I hate when he smokes so I'm waiting here for him to finish.”
“Bullshit,” one of them smiles and every instinct in my body tells me to flee.
So I do.
I run to the main street and veer left, knowing the entrance of the bar is around the corner.
To my delight I hear no feet following behind me, and just as I'm about to turn the corner to the safety of the main street I run face first into the chest of a man.
“Where do you think you're going?” The man easily lifts my hundred and ten pound body. I try fighting against him but I'm too weak; my small frame and tiny bones are no match for this guy. I do the only thing I can think of and scream. I scream from the center of my core and give it everything I have.
He clasps his hand over my mouth and I bite down. Hard. He pulls it away and slaps me. My eyes fill up and my cheek feels like it's on fire.
He holds my arms tightly to my sides but low enough that I can reach for his dick and twist the shit out of it. I drop to the ground as he cries out in pain. I start running when I realize the three men from the alley are waiting for me. I have nowhere to go. My eyes scan everywhere around me but the only place to go is across the street, where the lights are out and it's pitch black.
Panic is clawing at my throat. All I can hear is my heavy breathing and the pounding in my chest.
The man I hurt quickly recovers and lunges for me. I flee across the street at the same time a car rips around the corner, almost hitting me; it would have if my waist had not been taken over. I'm being carried back onto the curb. For a split second I feel relief until I see the man holding me is one of the four I'm trying to escape. I try to scream but another man's hand stuffs a cloth in my mouth and holds it in place. Tears start to blur my vision and I squirm my body around as best as I can. Another pair of strong hands grab hold of my calves and then shove me into a car.
I'm laying across two of them, butt in the middle seat, and they have me pinned down. I've never moved my body so hard in my life. I know the odds are against me, but I'm not going to let up until they are done with me.
I hear the engine of the car purr to life and I flip out, trying to scream through the cloth and thrash as hard as I can. This makes them laugh gleefully and a hand trails up my leg, cupping my sex, rubbing it with his fingers. Another hand slides down my shirt, under my bra, and starts playing with my breasts. They all start talking about all the fun and dirty things they want to do to me.
I have never been more terrified in my life when one of them describes in horrid detail what they are going to do. I throw up and start choking on my vomit. The man cupping my breasts sits me up and lets me choke on it without suffocating myself.
“We're not into fucking dead girls,” they all laugh at this remark. I slam my head back and triumphantly smack my skull against the jaw of the man behind me.
“Fuck you, you little cunt! Take her pants off, I want to teach her a lesson.”
“Let me drive off first. Once we're back at our place you can have her first.”
“Fuck that, she needs to be taught now! When we get there I'll teach it to her again, but that time I won't go easy on her.”
“Fine, but make it quick.”
The man pinning my legs repositions so he's over me and by doing so my legs are free. I kick with a power and strength I don't know I possess. The glass window shatters and the man on top flies off me and out the window. Damn, I'm good!
“What the fuck!?” They all yell, and that's when I realize the glass shattering wasn't done by me but another man.
The door opens and I'm airborne and brought to the sidewalk.
The other three men bustle out of the car with knives and brass knuckles in hand.
My neighbor's standing in front of me, protecting me with his body like a shield.
My eyes flick to the man lying in a bloody mess next to me, and I'm fairly certain he isn't breathing.
“If you think you can protect her, you're a fucking idiot. You may be a monster of a fellow, but there's three of us and we have these.” They flash their weapons.
“Good, it should make this more fun.” I can't see my neighbor's face, but from the animalistic growl he spits out I don't have to.
“For us, but certainly not you.”
“We'll see.” My ears must be deceiving me, because I could swear his voice sounds excited.
The man on the left lunges forward and so does my protector. Sheer panic courses my veins as I watch the other two men circle in around him.
The next few seconds happen so fast I can't be sure what I see. My neighbor turns into some kind of ninja. He has the first man knocked out in a single punch. The next man he headbutts and tosses onto the hood of the car, denting it underneath him. The third man starts approaching from behind. I'm about to yell out when he gets back kicked and sent crashing into the ground, head cracking against the concrete. They all wobble to their feet and scurry to the car.
“Take this piece of shit with you,” my neighbor yells after them, kicking the man he grabbed through the window in the ribs, eliciting a soft groan from his lips. “He's not going to die here.”
They obediently come and carry him off.
“Oh, and guys,” my neighbor speaks to them like they are old friends catching up, “If I hear you were near this bar again, I'll kill you. If I find out you so much as look at her,” he nods his head at me, “I'll make you choke to death on your own balls. Got it?” His eyes have turned cold and murderous. A chill runs through my body.
The car squeals off, leaving tire tracks on the road.
He faces me and I swear his eyes turn darker; I truly fear him.
“What the fuck just happened?” He growls at me in a voice that does not match the warmth it usually carries.
I try to speak, but no words come out and my whole body starts shaking uncontrollably. I fall to the ground and he is next to me in an instant, kneeling beside me.
“Shit.”
I black out.
Chapter 3
Wednesday, January 1
12:01am
The sound of cheering and people crying out, “Happy New Year!” jars me awake.
“Lily, Lily, are you okay?” The familiar voice of Naomi rings in my ears and my lids slowly flutter open. I try sitting up but my head is pounding and the room starts to spin. I groan and clench my eyes shut. “Lily, can you hear me?”
“Yes,” I croak out, my voice dry and hoarse. Why does my body ache so much? My eyes reluctantly open and my surroundings are not at all familiar. I appear to be in a small office, next to a desk, “Where am I?”
“You're in The Recovery's manager's office,” Stevie’s voice says in the distance. I think she's at my feet. “Is she okay?” I hear the panic behind her words, but I don't hear a response.
“Why am I here?” Why does my throat feel so sore and scratchy? I cup my hand around my throat and memories of tonight’s events flood into my mind. I shiver in fear.
“Where is he?” My raspy voice asks.
“Who?” Naomi leans over me and gently strokes my cheek, “Does this hurt?”
“A little,” I wince. “Where is he?” I ask again. Naomi looks confused, which irritates me.
“I think she means me,” a calmness washes over me when I hear the soothing warmth of my neighbor's voice.
“Are you okay?”
He chuckles and the sound is beautiful, “Are you seriously asking if I'm alright?”
I slowly lift my body up to sitting with Naomi's help. I lock eyes with him and all coldness from before is gone, replaced by something else. Concern? No, I'm too familiar with that look lately. It's worry mixed with another emotion I can't place. His face scans mine and cringes, letting out a grunting noise before closing his eyes and massaging the bridge of his nose.
“Are you hurt?” My raspy voice makes me sound like a ninety year old smoker, but I guess that will happen when you scream for your life.
“Fuck, stop asking me that,” he moans. “Are you okay, are you hurting anywhere?” He has his hands on his hips now, head hung low while he stares at the floor. Why is he avoiding looking at me?
“A little achy, but no real damage.”
“Can you remember what happened?” Stevie probes, handing me water that I guzzle down.
“Unfortunately, every detail.”
My neighbor's head snaps up, “I think you guys should let me take her home. She needs to rest. She can fill you guys in on the details tomorrow.”
“Is that what you want, Lily?” Naomi asks, appearing to not like the idea. “I can bring you home just as easily.”
“No, it's fine.”
Stevie and Naomi help me up.
Stevie wraps her arms around me in a hug, “I'm so sorry. Jay told us some guys tried to attack you but ran off when they saw him coming. I'm so so sorry, it's all our fault. We shouldn't have let you go outside alone. I'm so sorry.”
I hug her back, “It's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself for something only those dickheads should be blamed for.” I tilt my head back, “Who's Jay?”
My neighbor clears his throat, “That would be me.”
Now I have a name.
“I'm ready to go home,” I inform him.
He nods and opens the door. We follow him out and Naomi leans in to whisper in my ear.
“You sure you're safe with this guy?”
“Positive.” What he's capable of and the dark evil look his eyes posses may frighten me, but I know without a doubt he would never harm me.
“'Kay, and you promise to call me tomorrow?”
“I promise.”
We walk them to Stevie's Jeep, and once Naomi drives off we go to his truck. He opens the passenger door for me and helps me up. I try not to think about how big and strong his hands feel on my waist.
We drive in silence while I stare at him, studying his face and the scar that's facing me. I reach my arm out and run my thumb across the smallest one along his temple. His body stiffens against my touch.
“Thanks for saving me.”
His hands tighten around the steering wheel, “You want to tell me how the hell it got that far?” His tone is soft and I don't take offense to his question.
“I needed air and went out the exit into the ally. Three of them approached me and I tried opening the door but it was locked...” I wrap my arms around myself like a blanket.
“Never mind. Don't tell me. It will only make me want to hunt them down and rip their fucking heads off.”
“Good. I don't really want to talk about it,” a light sob escapes the back of my throat and I feel like a wuss. It's not like anything happened. It never got that far. A tear runs down my cheek and I brush it away before he can see. I want to lift my legs up and wrap my arms around myself but I don't want him to see how much tonight has affected me, it's pitiful. I settle for twirling my hair and chewing on my lip, which hurts...a lot. It feels huge in my mouth and I can feel the broken skin with my tongue.
“Don't do that,” Jay reaches over and tugs on my chin, releasing my bottom lip. “It's swollen and bruised. You'll make it worse.”
I'm disappointed when we arrive home. I like being in the safety of his truck and the soothing roll of a moving vehicle.
“Do you think we can drive around for awhile?” I can't believe what a child I'm being.
He doesn't respond, just flips the truck around and keeps driving.
“I know you wanted to drive me home because you didn't want me to tell my friends how easily you whooped those guys asses. Why is that?”
His hands twist around the steering wheel and I can tell he's thinking how he wants to explain it to me, “I'm afraid if they know what I did they will tell others, and word will get around about what I can do. I try very hard to go unnoticed.”
I let out a small laugh from his comment, “You have seen yourself, right?”
He lets out a laugh as well, “Touchè.”
“I don't mean just these,” I say, running the pad of my thumb over the scar on his temple. “You're huge and your eyes are scary at times; it's impossible to forget them.”
“Do I scare you?” His voice is barely above a whisper.
“A little. The first time I saw you and after you fought those men I was. It's the color your eyes take on. Like you're soulless.”
A sharp intake of breath cuts through the air and I feel guilty for being so honest. The man just saved my life, or at least prevented me from becoming a shell of a human being, and I insult him.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out so harsh.”
“Don't ever apologize for being honest with me.”
We drive around in silence for another thirty minutes and I don't protest when he pulls into his driveway.
He tells me to wait and comes around to help me out. Once my feet are safely planted on the ground his eyebrows knit together and his hand strokes the cheek that was slapped.
“You should ice this when you get home.” For how big and rough his hands are, they sure feel gentle and soft against my skin. I close my eyes, leaning into his palm. The second my lids shut, tonight’s events play out and I feel panic again. I step back against the truck in fear, hitting my head against the door.
Jay backs away from me, “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you.”
“No, it wasn't you. I liked that. It was when I closed my eyes,” I look at the ground in front of my feet. “I could see everything, all playing out like a movie.” A tear drops, and Jay's hand is back on my cheek to wipe it away. “I'm sorry, I'm being silly.”
He lifts my chin up to look at him, “Stop telling me you're sorry, and you’re not being silly. I only caught the tail end of what happened in that car, and you have every right to be upset.” He steps back and the empty space between us feels miles long. His hand comes out for me to take, “Let me walk you home.” He smirks, “It's a long journey.”
I crack a smile but shake my head no and his face falls, “I feel stupid but I'm afraid to go home now and go to sleep. I'm afraid I'll have nightmares or my mind won't stop reliving it all.”
Marked. Part I: The missing Link Page 3
