by LP Lovell
There’s nothing left to throw. She’s standing in the middle of utter destruction, chest heaving and tears pouring down her face. Her knees buckle and she falls to the floor, sobbing. She looks so small and broken, and it pulls at something inside me that I thought had long ago been lost. Fuck, I should do something. I’ll be honest, I have no idea what to do here. I haven’t done anything aside from fuck a woman in the past ten years.
I toss my hands up. “What do you want me to do?”
“Leave!” Her chest is heaving. “Let me leave.” She looks utterly broken.
I drag my hands through my hair and pace. I glance at her, tears are streaming down her face. I don’t need her here, because she is a weakness. If Joe finds her, so be it. She doesn’t belong to me, but for some reason part of me feels like she should. Exhaling, I point toward the door. “Leave then. If that’s what you want, then leave. I won’t stop you.”
She stares at me, her expression falling blank.
“Believe me. You can leave, but Joe will find you. What are you gonna do, huh? Go to the police?” Laughing, I shrug. “You’ve no idea how corrupt everything is. If I have the police in my back pocket, believe you me, so does fucking Joe. The second you go to them, he’ll find you.” I fall silent, thinking of the shit he did to my mother and sister. “And the things you’ve unfortunately experienced here will pale in fucking comparison to what he will do. So if that's what you want, just go ahead and leave. I’m not fucking keeping you prisoner. The fucking debt has been paid. Go!” I realize I’m shouting.
She nods, walking past me cautiously, like at any minute she expects me to grab her and force her against a wall. As soon as she gets to the door, she runs.
I exhale, my eyes dropping to the floor. If she really leaves, she’s as good as dead.
Leave. It’s one word with so much meaning. Freedom, escape, liberation. His eyes bore into mine, daring me to go.
I turn on my heel and walk out the door without a backward glance. My pace picks up as I climb the stairs and run along the hall to the front door. I throw it open, half expecting an armed firing squad to appear at any second. Nothing. I watch a handful of dead leaves blow across the gravel drive.
I jump down the steps and start running, the gravel crunching beneath my feet.
I hit the tree line and keep going. I run until I realise that I don’t know where I’m running to. I stop in a clearing, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. I have my freedom, but what is freedom when you have nowhere to go. You can release a bird from its cage, but if you’ve clipped its wings then its freedom is merely a false kindness.
I have nothing. I believe Jude when he tells me that Joe will kill me. Any man who would kill Jude’s family and risk his wrath is not a man that I want to risk provoking.
I could go to the police, tell them I’m not dead, but the second I do that, Joe knows I’m alive and it will only be a matter of time.
I could run away, but I have no money, no friends to help me anymore. I’m completely alone, more alone than I have ever felt in my life. Its one thing to be lonely, but quite another to be a dead girl walking. I don’t exist anymore. I don’t exist outside the boundary of Jude’s property. Jude and Caleb are all I have left, and isn’t that just tragic?
Tears stream down my cheek as I realise what a broken mess my life really is. My former life seems like a distant dream, and like a dream that you can barely remember, there seems to be no way back to it.
If I run now, the likelihood is that I will die.
I lean against a nearby tree for a second and listen to the birds chirping happily in the trees. I remember when I was little, I always used to climb into my mother’s bed early in the morning and she would tell me to listen to the bird song. I always took that sound for granted, but now I can’t remember the last time I stopped and listened to it. Sometimes it’s the small things in life that make it worth living. She would want me to live. She would want me to make the best possible choice for my own survival, because when this is over, and I have to believe that it will be over, life will go on.
Jude is my only option here, because he will protect me from Joe. For some reason I trust him, I trust him to do as he says. If he says he’ll protect me then I know that he will. He has no reason to lie to me, and everything that he has done, he did because of Joe. Joe has taken everything from me, and he destroyed Jude’s family. In a way, we are united over a common enemy.
I need Jude’s protection, but this is only for now, not forever.
I turn around and make my way back to the house. I can already imagine the smug expression on his face as I trample through the undergrowth.
When I break through the tree line, I glance at the front of the house. The house that has been my prison for the last two weeks.
There’s a lone figure sitting on the porch, and a steady stream of smoke billows around his face, catching on the breeze.
As I approach the porch, Jude looks up at me, taking another slow drag of his cigarette.
“I…” I don’t know what to say. “I can’t...I have nowhere to…” I choke on a sob as tears once again prickle my eyes.
He takes one last drag on his cigarette, then tosses it to the ground with a flick of his wrist. “Hmmm.” He presses his hand over his mouth, his fingers brushing over his stubble as his eyes fix on me. “You can’t what?”
“I can’t leave.” I say quietly.
He pulls in a heavy breath. “Then don’t.” His gaze narrows on me, and he stands.
I drop my gaze to the floor, and nod, more to myself than him.
He rises from his spot on the step and steps towards me. ”You may fucking hate me,” he reaches out and cups my cheek, “but I will protect you from that bastard.” He pauses, drawing in a deep breath. “For as long as you want me to. I owe you that.”
I burst into tears. God, I’m such a mess. Jude watches me for a second, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Then he steps forward, wrapping his arms around me. He stiffens for a moment before he lowers onto the step and pulls me into his lap like a child, cradling me against his enormous chest. His massive presence making me feel safer than I have any right to feel with him.
I sit with Tor, not really knowing what the hell to do. Her fingers twist into my shirt, clinging to me like I might try and leave her.
I know how she feels in this moment. Everything she’s known has been destroyed, taken. And that is exactly how I felt when my mother and sister were murdered. It is a helpless feeling, and the thing that fucking guts me the most is the fact that, even though it wasn’t my intention, I did this to her. I pull in a hard breath. I cannot abandon her. I will not let life fuck her the way it fucked me. Her entire body convulses as she weeps for what she’s lost. And in this moment I have nothing to say. I know no way to help her, and that pisses me off. I am the person who ruined her, and I hate myself for that. I inhale, my fingers combing through her thick hair. “I really am sorry, Tor, I had to,” I whisper into her hair, my fingers sweeping through the tangled strands.
Without warning, she buries her face in my shoulder. I can feel her tears on my skin, her heart beating against my chest. She’s clinging to the person who has taken everything from her because I am all she has, and that’s just fucking tragic. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as loud, pitiful sobs break from her. I hold onto her, burying my face in her hair as my hands clasp the back of her head. I know this should feel wrong, because it is—this brings a whole new meaning to the term fucked-up—but part of this feels right. She feels right to me, and I know that’s dangerous, but I can’t help it. I give in to the way this feels and lose my bearings. “I will make this up to you,” I whisper in her ear.
What the fuck has she done to me?
We stay like that for what feels like hours, and I don’t know that she will ever truly come to terms with the fact that she’s lost everything she’s ever had, but given the choice, I would do the same thing again.
I cling to Jude, becaus
e if I don’t, I feel like I’m going to fall off the figurative cliff edge that I’m desperately holding onto. None of this is right or fair. I just want to go back. I want to erase the last couple of weeks.
I can’t help but picture my sister burying the body of some poor girl whose family will never even know she’s dead. Life is so fragile. Everything can change in a heartbeat.
Jude holds me close, everything about him strong and powerful, yet the way he touches me is gentle, almost reverent. I pull my face away from his neck, sniffing away the last of my tears. As his eyes lock with mine, I can’t remember a single bloody reason why I should push him away.
I want to hate him. This place has broken me, unleashing horrors that I could only dream of in my worst nightmares. But in the aftermath of those horrors, at a time when I would have broken, when I wanted to give up, he made me fight. He made me take back my power. I may have become tainted in the process, but better to be a tainted survivor than a victim.
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, and sometimes life doesn’t play fair. You have to evolve to survive, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’ve evolved. I’ve become who I need to be in order to survive this, and this girl wants vengeance, she wants blood, and Jude is the very embodiment of both.
“Joe needs to pay for what he did.” I hear myself say quietly.
“He will.” He nods, brushing a finger across my cheek. A small smile pulls at his lips. “I promise.” I nod, because if Jude makes a promise, especially when it involves killing
someone, I know he’ll do it. “Did you kill Euan?” I whisper.
“Would you prefer me to be a murderer, or a liar?”
“He wasn’t dead when I left.” He shrugs casually as he glances at his watch. “Pretty sure he’s fucking dead now.” His voice is utterly cold.
“Good.” I hate Euan for what he did to me. I find it ironic that the man who was supposed to love me gave me over to criminals without a second thought. It’s warped because at this stage, I think Jude might actually be the only person who gives a fuck about me.
Life is so twisted. Everything’s not always as it seems.
My heart is pounding against my ribs as adrenaline courses through my veins. A strong hand wraps around my throat, pinning me to the hard, unforgiving ground.
Hands grope at my naked body, violating me in every way. Tears roll down my temples as a ragged cry slips from my lips.
I can’t make out the face of my attacker. I turn my head to the side, instinctively seeking him out. Knowing exactly where he will be, because it’s the same place he always is. He stands watching me, but makes no move to help me.
He looks so beautiful, like an angel of death, without mercy or a touch of kindness. His green eyes lock with mine.
“Jude!” I scream at him, begging him to help me.
His lips pull into a cruel smile just as I feel the stabbing pain in my chest. I scream as the pain increases, spreading down my chest and across my stomach. All I can hear is the deep rumble of his laughter, a vicious backing to my agonised screams.
Screaming, I jump awake, sitting bolt upright and dragging air into my lungs frantically. My hands are trembling as I drag them through my hair and hunch forward, pulling my knees up to my chest. I focus on my breathing, deep breath in and out.
I hear footsteps outside the room. The door creaks, and a sliver of light from the hallway breaks the darkness. I see Jude standing in the doorway.
I wordlessly slide out of the bed and make my way to the bathroom. I pull the door closed behind me and rush to the toilet as bile rises up my throat. I swear I can feel Bob’s hands on me, his rancid breath on my face. Tears stream down my face as I wretch uncontrollably. I press my hand over my mouth and try to quiet my loud cries. I hate that I’ve become this pathetic. I stop heaving and slump back against the bathroom wall.
I hear the door click open and glance up to find Jude lingering in the doorway.
“I’m fine.” I wave him off.
He sighs and crosses his arms over his bare chest. “Screaming in your sleep sure seems fine,” he grumbles.
I glance at him. A loose pair of trackies hang from his narrow hips, and his hair is messy as though he just rolled out of bed. I don’t even know where he’s been sleeping. He just started sleeping elsewhere...after. He steps into the room and drops to a crouch beside me. “Come on. Up.”
A frown marrs his features as he grabs my arm, helping me up. He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the bed. I pull the duvet up to my neck as Jude perches on the edge of the bed. “You okay?” he asks without looking at me.
I can tell this entire thing makes him uncomfortable. He’s not used to asking about anyone else, because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care now, but I guess he must feel obligated. His face turns toward me, his eyes studying me in the dim light from the bathroom.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. “Yeah,” I croak. “It’s just a bad dream.”
I see him nod in my peripheral vision. He moves to get up, and I don’t know why, but I panic. I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around his thick forearm. He twists around, glancing over his shoulder at me.
“Wait. Don’t leave,” I whisper.
He runs his hand over his chest, staring at me for a few seconds. Nodding, he sits on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the floor. The thought of staying in here by myself makes me panic. “Just...stay in here.”
I watch him in the dark. His brow creases as he sighs, settling back against the headboard. He stays there, not saying a word and staring at me for what feels like hours. I feel safe with him, and how twisted is that? Eventually, he lays on his side, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at me.
I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. I’m tired. I’m tired of the constant internal war that I’m waging with myself, as the old Ria fights to maintain even a shred of the person she used to be.
He gently brushes a fingertip over my cheek. “You are stronger than this.”
I roll my head to the side and look at him, barely able to make out the outline of his face. “What if I’m not though?” My voice breaks.
His eyes narrow, glinting slightly. “You are.” I feel his fingers brush against mine, and I reach for him, for whatever reason…I reach for him. He winds his fingers through mine. It’s such an innocent gesture for him that, for a moment, I freeze, waiting for the penny to drop. He moves his thumb in circles across the back of my hand, and to my surprise, that feeling eases some of the tension.
“If I could take it back, I would.” His voice is so quiet, I’m almost not even sure if I heard him properly.
“I know,” I whisper into the darkness, and he squeezes my hand tighter.
“Go to sleep, Tor.”
I fall asleep with my hand still entwined with his, and for the first time since the day I was plucked from my perfect life, I don’t close my eyes to images of knives and sick, twisted smiles.
I wake the next morning with my face pressed against something hard and hot. I lift my head and glance down at Jude’s very bare, very muscled, and very male chest. Shit. I try to slide away from him slowly, but his arm is wrapped around my waist. When I try to move, he groans and tightens his hold possessively, pulling me back to him.
I glance down the length of his body and can’t possibly miss the bulge tenting the front of his boxers. My thigh is barely a few inches from his package. Oh, my God. I’m wrapped around him like a fucking vine. A slutty vine. I feel my face heat up like a furnace as I try and slowly pull my leg back. His cock twitches and he groans again. He rolls over and bends his knee, pressing his thigh between my legs in his sleep. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to control my hammering pulse. He moves again, pressing everything against me, everywhere. My body lights up like a fucking traffic light.
His arm moves across his chest and cups the side of my face, his fingers winding into my hair. Part of
me gravitates toward him instantly as that weird pull he has over me kicks in. It’s a primal reaction. My hormones are overriding rational thought. At least that’s what I tell myself. Yeah, that’s it.
He’s holding me so close, and his body is like an open flame. I’m burning up. I try to move again, but fucking hell, he’s strong. In the end I resort to poking him in the ribs. He grunts and stirs underneath me. I just need to separate my body from his as soon as possible.
My eyes slowly come into focus. I squint against the bright sunlight pouring in through the window and realize my fingers are tangled in hair. Tor’s warm body is pressed against mine in a death grip. Her legs are draped over me, and her lace-covered pussy is pressed up against my thigh. Fuck! I grit my teeth and try to think of anything else, but all of my blood has already shot to my dick, which is so fucking hard it hurts.
She wiggles, trying to free herself from me, and it’s really, really not helping matters because every movement just rubs over my skin. Parts of her that don’t need to be touching me are all over me, warm and firm. My fingers clench against the soft skin of her neck. I release my hold on her as she presses her palm into my chest to push herself up. Her face is flushed, her eyes wild—a look I find hard to resist. I have to bite back a groan.
I need to move before I do something stupid like fuck her seven ways from Sunday. She sits up and looks away from me, embarrassment written all over her face.
I grab the comforter and pull it over my lap in an attempt to hide the raging erection currently trying to make bail out of my boxers.
“You sleep okay?” I ask, attempting to make this less awkward, but I’d say nothing is going to help that.
