“Is it because it was your dad was who raped me?” I ask, and he flinches.
“No.” He growls.
“Was it because …?”
“It’s because you’re not ready,” he interrupts me.
“Who are you to tell me what I feel?” I demand. “I’ve allowed you to control everything I do for three weeks now, but you’re not gonna tell me what I feel!” I shout.
“Oh, you’ve allowed me to have control?” he asks, arching a brow.
“Yes.”
He takes a step toward me. “I never gave you the chance, Bunny.”
My chest tightens because that is true. “You never gave me a chance at anything.”
“What does that mean?” he snaps.
“A chance to explain myself a long time ago.”
He uncrosses his arms and turns toward the door. “Forget it.”
“No!” I shout following him. “You wanna talk. Let’s talk.” I jump in front of him, blocking his way out of the bathroom. “After I was released from the hospital, after your father raped and beat me, I had one voicemail and it was from you.”
“I don’t need—”
“It was from you,” I shout, interrupting him, “telling me that it was over. That Mitch would treat me like the whore I am.” I shake my head as I look at him with disgust. “You never even asked.”
“Bunny …”
“You never fucking asked!” I scream so loud it hurts my own ears. “I knew you loved me. I knew there wasn’t anyone else, but you didn’t even bother to ask me what happened. If I was okay? How I could want to do that to our baby.” My voice breaks. “Do you know what that’s like?” I don’t allow him to answer. “No. You don’t.”
“Want me to say I’m sorry? ’Cause I am.”
“That’s not good enough!” I shout. “Where the hell were you, Avery? Where were you when I needed you?” Tears sting my eyes. “You said you loved me. You said you would always be there for me, but you weren’t.”
“You should have told me!” he shouts, getting angry.
“You wouldn’t have believed me.”
His eyes widen, and his lips part. “Of course, I would have.”
I snort. “Now, you’re just lying.”
He takes a step toward me, pressing his body into mine. “I would have believed you. Not one doubt. All you had to do was tell me.”
He makes it sound so simple. As if all I had to do was say hey, your father raped and beat me. I shake my head and wrap my arms around my chest. “I called you, Avery.” His hard eyes soften. “I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I called you. And you had already moved on. And changed your number.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I had to tell someone,” I say softly. “I went and saw a therapist after a year had passed. But I only went once. He asked me what I wore.” His nostrils flare. “He asked me if I led him on. And I started to think maybe I had.”
“It was never your fault, Bunny.” He growls.
“I let you touch me all over that house. We fucked in your pool. The couch. In the media room while we would watch movies. And he told me that he watched us.”
“That still doesn’t make it your fault,” he snaps. “This, right here, is why you still need help.”
“Quit acting like I’m fucking broken.”
He takes a step back from me. “You are,” he shouts. “It’s not hard to figure out that what my father did to you is the reason you drink like a fucking fish. Or why you spread your legs for any guy who looks your way.”
“Fuck you!” I scream.
“It’s true, and you know it,” he says coldly.
I slap him across the face so hard the sound bounces off the walls. When his eyes come back to mine, they don’t have the normal rage I see after putting my hands on him. Instead, they are soft. “Bunny, I just want to help you …”
“Quit calling me that! I’m no longer you’re Bunny, remember? I’m your slave,” I shout until my lungs hurt.
“You know that’s not true,” he says softly.
I slap him again.
“I know what you’re doing, but it’s not gonna work,” he says, shaking his head.
I slap him again. And then again. “Fucking hit me back,” I demand.
“No.”
Tears run down my face, and my body physically shakes with need. I fucking cut myself open and bled for him, and he’s giving me nothing in return.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, reaching out and wiping away the tears from my face. And it makes my knees shake with nervousness at the look in his eyes. He’s gone soft. He’ll never look at me the same. To him, I’m ruined. “I don’t want to be like them.”
A sob bubbles up, but I swallow it down.
“I love you, Bunny. I always have and always will. I can’t see you in pain anymore.” He leans in, gently kissing my forehead, and turns to walk out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
AVERY
“HAVE YOU EVER FELT LIKE you were trapped in a nightmare?” she asks me.
I stop and turn to face her. Tears run down her beautiful face, and it makes my chest tighten at what he has done to her. “No.” Yes, when you left me I did. But I can’t tell her that now. Not after what I found out.
“Do you know what it feels like to shower and still feel dirty?” she continues.
“No,” I answer, not knowing where she is going with this.
“Or how you can’t stand to look in a mirror because you can’t stand the sight of yourself?” She doesn’t let me answer. “I had a nose job because he broke it. I had my boobs done because I wanted to be different. Feel different.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “I quit highlighting my hair and grew it out. I wanted to be anyone but me. Because there was nothing left. I had panic attacks. The drugs and alcohol helped. They made life tolerable.” She licks her lips. “You’re right,” she says, dropping her eyes to the floor in shame. “I did drink a lot, needing the liquid courage to allow men to touch me.” Her eyes meet mine again, and I want to pull her into my arms and hold her, but I don’t.
“I needed to prove to myself that he hadn’t ruined my life. That I could still be loved. Wanted.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I could still feel him on top of me. I could still feel his breath on my neck. I could still smell his scent on me.” Tears stream down her face. “But none of them took away the pain. The memories.” She sobs. “Until you walked back into my life and things were different. You erased it away and made me feel like me again. And then he shows up again. And everything comes back like a fucking wave. And I’m drowning. I need you, Avery, and once again, you walk away.”
“Bunny, it’s not because of what you went through.”
“Then what is it?” she asks, arms out wide. “Because you look at me like I’m a used-up whore.”
“I don’t see you that way.” How could she possibly think that? I see her as a strong woman who survived something horrific. And the sad part is that she went through it all on her own.
“You make me feel that way. Just like he did.” She sniffs, and I flinch at her words. “He took me into your bedroom and threw me onto the bed.” My jaw tightens. “I screamed for you. I yelled for you to help me.” Angry tears come to her eyes. “But you weren’t there. He placed his hand over my mouth and then pinched my nose closed with his fingers. I couldn’t breathe.”
“Bunny …” I swallow, “I don’t need …”
“I had to fucking live it!” she shouts. “You can fucking listen to it. He ripped my shorts down my legs with his free hand and fucked me! Telling me that I belonged to him. That I was a whore that needed to be used like the others. When he was done, he grabbed the nearest thing he could get to.” She swallows. “Which was a flashlight that you kept on your nightstand. He fucked me with it. To the point I bled.” I look away from her. “Then after he was done with that, he dragged me to your fucking shower and washed me. I sobbed as he told me that I needed to abort our baby, but I refused. I refus
ed to do that! I’d rather die than kill …” Her voice breaks. “So he beat me. I remember every kick to my stomach. Every punch to my face. He beat me until I was unconscious.” There are no words to take her hurt away. “Look at me,” she shouts, and my eyes find hers. “Is that what you wanted to know?” she demands.
I say nothing.
“Huh? Does that make you feel better? Answer me!” she shouts. “Because I don’t feel any better!”
“No!” I snap, and then release a sigh. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, Bunny, but I’m here now.”
“Prove it!”
“What do you want from me?” I demand.
“I want you to fuck me! I need to know that you still want me.” She lowers her voice as if ashamed to admit that.
“I … I can’t, Bunny.”
“He didn’t rape me this time,” she whispers.
I let out a long breath because I’ve thought about it. That’s why I wanted her to talk to Chloe.
“He just wanted to fuck with my head.” She sniffs. “He knew that you wouldn’t want me afterward.”
I walk up to her and wrap her in my arms. Her body shakes against mine while I lean down and kiss her hair. “I still want you, Bunny.” I place my hands on her head and pull her face back to look at me. “Nothing will change that. Do you understand?”
Tears run down her pretty face. The cut along her nose and lips starting to heal. “Answer me.”
“Yes.” She gives her broken answer.
_______________
I’m trying to keep it together. My muscles are tight, and my body rigid. I wanted to puke when she described what my father had done to her, but I had to be strong for her. Then I wanted to punch the fucking wall. What she went through … How selfish I was to believe my father and Lance.
I walk into my study and grab the empty bottle of scotch on my desk.
“I didn’t expect you …”
I throw it into the burning fireplace, interrupting my brother’s words. The glass shatters, and the flame gets bigger for a brief second.
“Whoa.” He jumps to his feet.
I place my fists on my desk and lean over it, giving him my back, and take a deep breath.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I start to laugh, a deep, chest-shaking laugh, and turn to face him. “That is the fucking dumbest question I have ever heard.”
He frowns, tilting his head. “Something happened in the past fifteen minutes?”
“No, it happened eleven years ago,” I snap.
He sighs. “Avery, you can’t change the past. All you can do is help her now.”
“She doesn’t want help.” I shake my head. “Not the kind she needs.” I’m gonna find that doctor who told her it was her fault and kill him.
“It just takes time.”
“Quit acting like you fucking know what she went through. Quit fucking acting like you know how she feels because you’re fucking a woman who was sexually abused,” I shout, thanking God that Chloe is no longer in here.
His eyes narrow on mine. “I know exactly what Chloe went through. Don’t be pissed at me because Presleigh didn’t tell you.”
“She couldn’t tell me!” I shout. “Because I wouldn’t have even answered the Goddamn phone.” I was so mad at her. So hurt. She had ripped my heart out by killing my child and then leaving me for another man—she might as well have shot me. Then I find out it was all a lie. And what she went through … makes me feel that rage all over again.
“I told you to go to Mitch and beat the fuck out of him. Hell, I offered to help you. But you said fuck both of them. If she was willing to leave you for him, then he could have her.”
“I thought …”
“You thought fucking wrong. Be mad at yourself.” he snaps. “Quit blaming everyone for once and blame yourself!”
I punch him in the face, and he stumbles back, spilling his drink over the rim of his glass. I do it again before he can recover. It feels good to hit something. And as much as Bunny wanted me to slap her, I couldn’t. I can’t be that man for her right now.
“Fucking bastard …” He drops his drink to the hardwood floor, and it shatters, scotch going everywhere, and then he punches me. I taste blood, and I smile. This is what my brother and I do. We make each other hurt. Bleed.
He goes to punch me again, but I duck, then as I stand straight, I clock him in the jaw. He runs toward me and picks me up at the waist, letting out a scream. We both go barreling into my desk. It turns over, and he lands on top of me.
He rolls off me and onto the floor. We’re both breathing heavily, staring up at my ceiling.
“I know you’re mad, Avery,” he says softly. “I know you want Victor and Vaughn dead.” I look over at him as he licks the blood that runs down the side of his lip. “And I stand by you a hundred percent.” His head turns to look at me as well. “I will do whatever you need me to do. But you’re taking your anger out on the wrong people.”
I sit up and flinch from the pain in my back from hitting my desk.
“Presleigh didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She should have told me!” I say through gritted teeth.
He hangs his head and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t pretend to know everything because of Chloe, but I know that sometimes the victims feel they have no choice. No voice. And it’s not like you crawled after her on hands and knees begging her to take you back when you thought she left.” He sighs heavily. “There is no telling what Victor told her in order for her to keep her mouth shut. She was seventeen and had no one. Her parents dead. Her fiancé gone. And her brother … no girl wants to explain to their brother that they were raped and beaten. They never were really that close to begin with. All she had back then was you.”
“She still has me.”
He nods. “There’s a man down in your cellar who is there for you to take your anger out on. I mean, I’m more than willing to let you knock me around, but I’ll fight back.” He gives me a smile. “Lance deserves your anger. Because you love her.”
I stand and turn to face him, then hold out my hand. He takes it, and I pull him up. He follows me out of my study and to my cellar. I open the door and walk in to find Lance on his stomach. He’s asleep. Passed out from blood loss. I grip the chains in my hand and roll him onto his back. I wrap them around his wrists and then drag him over to the center of the room. I slap his face.
“Wake up!” He moans. I slap him again. “Get the fuck up!” He stirs and then his eyes open slowly. “Stand up,” I order, and he closes them again.
I sigh, not having the time for this. I’ve waited long enough. I need answers.
I yank on the chain wrapped around his wrists and drag him to his feet. He slumps forward, and I lift the chain, placing it over the hook that hangs down. He sags, and his head falls forward.
“We’re gonna play a little game.”
He whimpers.
“I’m gonna ask you a question, and every time you don’t answer, I’m gonna throw a knife at you. And I won’t miss.”
He lifts his head slowly. His eyes narrowed. “Just kill me.”
“We’ll get there.”
He spits out blood onto the concrete floor, and I smile. Grabbing the knife I got from my study, I feel the weight in my right hand. I toss it into the air and catch it. “Where are my brother and father?”
“I don’t kn—”
The knife lands in his right upper arm. Right where I wanted it to. He throws his head back, howling out like a wolf.
I walk up to him, and he’s panting. I yank it out, and he grinds his teeth. Blood starts running down his arm.
Walking back to where I stood before I flip it once again in my hand. Blood now covers the blade. “How about an easier question. Don’t want to kill you too soon. What happened while you guys kept her in that house?”
I don’t want to know but need to find out. I need to know what Bunny went through. What kind of horrors she had to suffer a
t the hand of the devil. With my father and brother, the thoughts are endless. I know firsthand how cruel they can be. Just because he didn’t rape her didn’t mean he didn’t touch her.
He coughs. “Your dad and Vaughn got in a fight.”
That’s interesting and not what I expected him to say. “About?”
His head bobs up and down for a second. “Vaughn planned the entire attack with Darrell’s help, but he wasn’t helping get her for your father. He wanted her for himself.”
I tap the blood-stained knife against my thigh. “Vaughn wanted her?”
He nods quickly and sucks in a breath. “The second day, he went down there with every intention to rape her.” My jaw tightens. “He took a pair of handcuffs.” He pauses taking a breath. “Your father and I were up in the office. We heard her scream, and we ran down there. He was on top of her.” My hand tightens on the knife. “Had her across the room, the collar around her neck pulled tight and choking her. Her hands already cuffed … your father ripped him off, and your brother started throwing a fit like a little child.” He shakes his head. “Said your father had promised he could have her. And he told him he would get what he gives him and then slapped him. Vaughn stormed off.” Deep breath. “Telling me he’d be back later.” His eyes start to fall shut as blood continues to run down his arm.
I throw the knife, hitting him in his thigh. His eyes snap open, and he screams out again. “I ans … wered,” he wails.
I ignore him, and like last time, I walk up to him and yank it out, enjoying the stream of blood that runs down his leg. “Keep going.”
He licks his chapped lips. “I don’t … know. Victor told her some bullshit, and she screamed fuck you. Then he hurt her.”
I walk up to him, grab his hair, and yank his head back. I get right in his face, and yell, “What exactly did he do to her?”
“He shoved her head into the wall and then slammed her onto the concrete floor …”
I release his head, and it falls forward while I start to pace. I’ve never felt so much anger. Not when she left. Not when she was taken. Not even when I found her. My muscles are tight, and all I want to do is rip his fucking head off with my bare hands. “Go on.” I know there’s more.
SLAUGHTER Page 28
