by Hawk, Chloe
I bit my lip to keep from screaming and the bitter taste of blood filled my mouth.
Take responsibility for your part in it.
The voice was back, only this time, it was right. I did have to take responsibility for where I’d ended up. I’d made choices to get me here-- I’d chosen to stay with my mom even though I knew my home environment was toxic, I’d chosen to come to the city with Cole, I’d chosen to allow Jeffrey to make that video of me.
I’d chosen to be a victim, to let my fate be determined by other people. I’d been so afraid of what could happen that I’d given up control of my life.
And where he had it gotten me?
“Nowhere,” I whispered out loud.
My rage burned brighter.
I stood up.
It was time to take my power back.
It was time to go see Jeffrey.
***
A quick search on google maps provided me with the address of Jeffrey’s company. It was a little bit of a walk, and even though it was only seventy degrees out, the sun was beating down, turning the pavement gritty and hot. By the time I got to Jeffrey’s building I was a sweaty, disheveled mess.
I caught sight of myself in the reflection of the windows, my clothes too small, my hair a frizzy halo around my head, my cheeks bright with color. My eyes had a crazed look I’d never seen before.
Usually I’d have been self-conscious about the way I looked, would have stepped into a bathroom to fix my hair and wash my face. But today I didn’t care.
Today I felt fierce.
I marched into the high-ceilinged lobby and tried to blend in with a pair of smartly-dressed women as they pushed through the turnstile toward the elevator bank.
But I was stopped by a barrel-chested security guard.
“Excuse me, miss?” he said. “Can I help you with something?”
“No thank you,” I said, giving him my best reassuring smile.
But he wasn’t having it. “Miss, you need a badge to be let through security.”
“I have a meeting,” I tried.
“With who?”
“With Jeffrey Adams,” I said, raising my chin in the air and daring him to contradict me.
The security guard frowned and picked up the phone.
“Yes,” he said into the receiver. “I have a young woman here who says she has a meeting with Mr. Adams.” He looked at me. “Can I have your name please, Miss?”
“Avery Buchanan.” I almost expected him to have a reaction when I said my name, like I might already be infamous as the girl who’d made a sex tape with Jeffrey Adams.
But nothing registered on the guard’s face, not even a flicker of recognition.
“Yes, okay,” he said, nodding. “Thank you.”
He hung up the phone. “I’m sorry, Ms. Buchanan,” he said. “But Mr. Adams is unavailable.” His tone was cold, final. He’d doubted my story from the beginning, but he’d been willing to give me the benefit of the doubt. Or at least, he realized he couldn’t be too harsh on the off chance I was telling the truth and did have a meeting with Jeffrey. But now his whole demeanor had changed.
“That’s impossible,” I said snootily. “Call them again, please.”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” he said, and now his voice was laced with the thin thread of consequence, making it clear that if I didn’t leave, he was going to have to take further action. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave the building now.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I need to speak with Jeffrey.”
“Mr. Adams is not available,” he repeated. He began to step out from behind the security desk, and that same rage poured through my body, liquid hot, like a volcano spilling from my soul.
He knew I was here. Jeffrey knew I was here. I was sure of it. Whoever had answered the call up in Jeffrey’s office – a receptionist or an assistant – had surely told Jeffrey I was here. And he was refusing to see me.
He’d sent that video to Cole, in a move that was so slimy, so deceitful, so underhanded and meant to intimidate. And now I was here and he wouldn’t even talk to me.
I thought back to that day, the day in the woods, how he’d felt, his breath hot against my neck, how I pretended to enjoy it. The promises he’d made, the things he’d told me so I would let him do what he’d done.
How he’d thrown me away like I was a used tissue.
The same way he was trying to do now.
The same way Cole had done just a few moments ago.
I was sick of it, sick of these men fucking up my head and making me feel worthless.
“No,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to leave until I see him.”
I knew it was fruitless– the guard was already on his way out from behind the desk, his meaty arms straining against the sleeves of his uniform. I looked around wildly for a way into the building, imagined myself jumping the turnstile and rushing into the elevator, running into Jeffrey’s office and demanding he see me.
I spotted a security camera perched high up in the corner of the lobby, and the sight of it made me crazed.
“You coward!” I yelled at it. “You fucking coward! You can’t even come down here and see me, you can’t even talk to me after what you did?!” A voice deep inside of me told me to stop, told me I was acting crazy, told me I was just making everything worse.
I knew it was just a security camera, knew there was no way Jeffrey was watching me, that the feed went to a security office, that Jeffrey would never even see it.
But I couldn’t stop.
I was yelling so loudly that the sound of my voice drowned out my thoughts until I didn’t even know what I was saying.
“Miss!” the security guard said. He put his hands on my shoulders and tried to turn me around and point me back toward the revolving doors, but I reached out and started pummeling his chest with my fists.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”
He’d pulled out his walkie talkie, he was calling for back up and I thought about how those cops had converged on Cole with their sticks, and I wondered if maybe the security guards were going to do that to me.
My legs went rubbery and my knees buckled.
I felt like I was falling to the ground, but I wasn’t. I was just sort of weaving, and then I felt arms circle my waist from behind, strong and forceful.
“Stop!” I yelled as the person picked me up and began carrying me toward the door. “Put me down!” I kicked my legs backwards and connected with the person’s shin, and then I heard his voice.
Cole.
“Avery!” he said. “Stop!”
The sound of his voice was enough to zap the fight out of me, and I felt myself melt into him, felt my legs to go weak and my body soften.
“You know this girl?” the security guard asked.
“Yes,” Cole said. “She’s my sister.”
“Stepsister,” I said weakly. But no one was listening to me.
“Well, get her out of here,” the guard said. “If she comes back, we’ll have no choice but to press charges.”
Cole didn’t reply, instead carrying me out of the building and out onto the street. He set me down and looked at me.
My head was woozy and the concrete felt like it was swirling under my feet.
“Avery,” he said. “Avery, look at me.”
I looked at him.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
“How did you know where I was?” I asked.
“I was watching you,” he said. “I saw you leave that bench, and I knew you were going to get yourself into trouble. So I followed you.”
“He wouldn’t even see me.”
“Who cares?” Cole said. He shook his head. “What were you going to do to him, Avery? Yell at him? He doesn’t give a shit.”
“Cole,” I choked. “I don’t… I can’t… ” I started to cry then, sobs that racked my body so hard I felt lik
e I was hyperventilating.
“Shh,” he said, pulling me close to him. I buried my face in his muscular chest, felt his strong arms encircle my body, comforting and warm. “Shhh, come on. Let’s get you home.”
***
He called us a car, loaded me into the backseat and took me back to his apartment.
The apartment was pristine, returned to the condition it had been in before it had been broken into. The kitchen had been put back together, the TV had been replaced, the furniture set back to the way it was. Everything was back to being shiny and clean – Cole must have had a team working all night.
He brought me to the guest room and slipped me between the cool, crisp sheets of the bed.
“I want to go home,” I said, but my voice sounded weak. Whatever strength and anger I’d felt before was completely gone and now I was beginning to feel disconnected from my body, like I was floating up above myself, watching Cole sitting on the side of my bed as he took care of me. I looked pale and wan and weak, and I felt scared.
I knew that disassociating was not a good sign, wasn’t something normal people did, and I started to wonder if maybe I was having some kind of mental breakdown.
“Shh,” Cole said. “You need to rest.”
He put a hand on my forehead. “You feel hot.” He crossed the room to the thermostat on the wall and turned it down. “I’m going to get you some water.’
He returned a few moments later with a tray filled with chicken soup in a bowl, a bottle of water, ibuprofen, and a washcloth.
“I’m not hungry,” I said, turning away from him. Spots were dancing in my vision and I closed my eyes and blinked rapidly in an effort to get rid of them.
“Avery,” Cole demanded. “Look at me.”
I sighed and turned back over.
“You need to have some water.” He uncapped the bottle and held it to my lips. The water was cold, I could tell from the condensation on the bottle. But it felt hot as it slid down my throat, the liquid gritty and heavy.
“Cole,” I said, turning away again. “Please. My stomach hurts.”
“Shh,” he said. “You’re fine.”
He picked up the washcloth that was sitting on the tray and put it on my head. It was cool and soothing, and it instantly made the room stop spinning. He pushed my hair back from my forehead, smoothing it over and over rhythmically.
I opened my eyes and he stared down at me, his blue eyes filled with concern. He was so beautiful, I thought sleepily. He was so beautiful, and all I wanted in this whole world was for him to be mine.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmured.
It was the last thing I remembered before I drifted off to sleep.
***
When I woke, the room was dark.
My head felt heavy, my eyes gritty.
I reached for the water Cole had left on my bedside table and took a long drink. I opened the bottle of ibuprofen, shook two into my hand, and downed those as well.
Cole had set out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed for me, along with a clean towel. I grabbed them, then got up and walked to the bathroom, studying my reflection in the mirror over the sink.
I looked like hell. My eyes were bloodshot, my hair a mess.
I showered and dressed, trying to let the hot water wash off the horrible day I’d had.
When I was done, I returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed. I was curiously awake. I felt calm.
The apartment was still, quiet, like no one was home. But I felt sure Cole wouldn’t have left me alone. So I got up walked down the hall toward the living room in search of him.
But before I got to the living room, I heard a noise coming from his bedroom, almost like a rustling.
His door was halfway open and I peeked in.
He was sitting at his desk, watching something on his computer. The glow from the monitor illuminated his face, the light flashing off his strong features.
I hesitated. I wanted to go to him. Everything inside of me wanted to be near him, to ask him how he was feeling about everything. I had the urge to beg him not to kick me out, to let me stay here with him.
I knocked on the half open door.
“Cole?” I asked softly as I slipped into the room. His room was all hardwood and clean, modern lines, and the floor felt cold under my bare feet.
He didn’t answer me.
Instead he just sat there, fixated on the huge flat monitor screen in front of him.
“Are you working?” I asked softly.
He glanced up at me, his eyes meeting mine before they flicked back to the screen. His chin rested in his hand, the expression on his face flat and hard.
I waited a beat, but he didn’t tell me to leave so I walked further into the room.
He reached out and clicked the mouse, then leaned forward in his chair.
“Cole?” I tried again.
But he still didn’t say anything.
He just sat there, his concentration trained on the screen.
“Are you okay?” I asked gently.
Something flickered on his face then, sadness or worry, but it only lasted a second before he went blank again.
I walked around behind his desk so I could see what he was looking at.
My hand flew to my mouth as acid burned the back of my throat.
He was watching the video of me and Jeffrey.
The video reached the end, and Cole immediately started it over again.
“Cole,” I said. “Please, turn it off.”
He stayed silent, his face a mask of nothingness.
“Cole!” I yelled. I reached over and pushed the button on the computer, pausing the video.
Cole turned around in his chair, looked at me standing there.
“Why?” he asked.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shook my head. “I told you, it was stupid. It was just… ” I took a deep breath. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“You let him fuck you up against a tree and film it and it didn’t mean anything?”
“I liked him,” I said. “It was stupid, I know. But he… he made me think that if I was with him, he would take care of me. He promised me things.”
Cole gripped the sides of his chair, his knuckles turning white. “What kind of things?”
“Money.”
“He wanted to pay you to have sex with him?” Cole flew out of his chair and began pacing the room. He ran his fingers through his hair, his eyes crazed.
He was wearing a pair of drawstring cotton plaid pants and no shirt, and my body cried out for his, wanting to bury myself in his chest, to feel his arms around me, to lose myself in his kisses, his touch. My pull toward him was so strong it scared me, made me feel like I was losing control.
“No, it wasn’t like that.” I shook my head. “It wasn’t like he was offering me money for sex, he just made it seem like if I was with him, he would take care of me.” I twisted my fingers together in front of me. “It just…I thought that if I had help from him, if he was able to take care of me, then maybe my mom would finally agree to leave.”
Cole’s eyes blazed. “You told him about your mom?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, I never told him. It was just something I thought.”
“You know now that was ridiculous, don’t you, Avery?”
“Yes.” I swallowed, trying to find the right words. “He never…I mean, after he took that video, I never heard from him again.”
I remembered how it had gone, seeing Jeffrey out with his friends, the casual way he would brush by me, the way he acted like nothing had happened between us, acted like he hadn’t told me he wanted to be with me, hadn’t told me he was going to take care of me.
How I’d cried on my bed, hating myself for it, because I hadn’t even liked Jeffrey that much. It was more the loss of hope that I was going to maybe, finally, be able to escape my horrible home life.
“Cole,” I said
. “Why were you watching that video?”
“Because I’m fucking crazy,” he said. He was over by the window now, the lights from the city shining through the glass and illuminating his body. I longed to be pressed against his muscular chest, to feel his strong arms around me. His body looked like it had been cut from stone, all flat planes and defined abs.
“What?”
He turned to look at me. “Because I’m insane, okay, Avery? Because I can’t stop thinking about you with him, can’t stop thinking about him touching you. I’ve been watching that video for hours, going out of my mind.” He turned and crossed the room to me, pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest.
My body instantly responded, my nipples getting hard and heat rushing between my legs. My skin flushed, my breathing deepened.
“Cole,” I breathed.
“Did you like it?” he demanded. “Did you like fucking him?”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t… it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like that.”
He reached his hand around and gathered my hair in his hand, twisting it together and pulling it back. His lips grazed my neck, and he kissed the hollow of my throat gently, moving up to my lips before his mouth claimed mine.
He kissed me hard, his tongue exploring, his intent clear. I felt myself getting pulled under, surrendering to him.
He pulled away from me.
“You are mine,” he growled, his forehead pushed against mine. “I don’t want anyone else touching you. Ever. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “It was in the past, Cole.”
“I don’t want excuses, Avery.”
I nodded again as his hands snaked up my body, pushing the bottom of my t-shirt up and over my ass.
“Do you know how it made me feel, having to watch that?”
I shook my head.
“It drove me insane,” he said. “I was sick, watching him put his hands all over you.” He pulled back and looked at me. “I can’t…I don’t …” He turned and walked away from me.
“What?” I asked. “What is it?”
“I took that picture of you,” he said, sitting down on the bed.
“What picture?”
“In the hot tub.”
