by Ella Miles
A grin stretches through my entire body as I race up the back staircase to Enzo’s bedroom. I run so hard that I don’t notice someone is watching me. Someone is standing in the hallway just outside Enzo’s bedroom.
I run smack into his chest.
Only when I look up does my smile vanish.
Enzo isn’t the chest I ran into. It’s his father.
“Hi, Mr. Black. I, uh…, I was looking for Enzo. We have a school project that we have to work on together. I was just looking for him to see what time we should meet. Is he in his bedroom? Or is he upstairs?”
Mr. Black looks at me with a stern expression. His eyes are thin slits, his nostrils spread, and his mouth tightens.
“Don’t lie to me, girl.” His eyes run down the length of my body. “You aren’t studying looking like that.”
I instinctively move my hands over my body to hide it from his gaze. But I’m wearing a tiny red bikini, and I don’t have a towel. I’ve been dripping water all over the hardwood in the hallway.
“I’m sorry. I’ll just go.” I turn to head back out, hoping like hell he doesn’t take my indiscretion out on my mother. I hope he doesn’t fire her, thinking that it’s the best way to keep me from Enzo.
As I turn, I hear him speak a low command. “Stop.”
I don’t know why I stop. I just do. My feet seem to stop midair like I just ran into a wall.
“Good girl.” He steps closer until I feel his hot breath on my neck. “You’re a very obedient girl, aren’t you?”
My mouth runs dry. The mouth that was just kissed by a boy I’ve dreamt about for years, that thought my life couldn’t get any better, is now dry and speechless.
I nod, it feels like the right thing to do.
“Liesel?” Enzo asks quietly from up the stairs.
I open my mouth to answer, but Mr. Black grabs my neck. “Don’t speak.”
There is no threat at the end. Just a command. But with his hand on my neck, I don’t have to know what he will do if I speak.
Mr. Black drags me by the neck into his son’s bedroom, still gripping my neck so hard that I’m not sure I’m going to be able to breathe much longer. He leaves the door cracked.
“Liese—” Enzo stops dead in his tracks when he sees his father through the crack in the door. The room is dark, so I have no idea if he can see me or not.
“I told you to go to the club and handle business,” Mr. Black says demandingly.
“I’m headed there right now.”
“See that you do.”
Enzo turns. His eyes leave the room. He looks straight at me, and my heart freezes again.
Enzo sees me. He has to.
Do something.
Stop this.
Save me.
I beg Enzo to do something, anything. Just don’t leave me here alone.
The seconds creep by in extremely slow motion. But a second later, Enzo turns, and he’s gone.
Enzo’s gone.
I’m alone.
With his father.
In Enzo’s bedroom.
“Good girl,” Mr. Black says, loosening his grip on my neck.
I still don’t speak, though. I’ve grown up poor. I know what my mother does to earn extra money, and I know how evil this man is who is holding my neck.
I can see in his eyes what he wants to do with me.
Enzo is gone.
The house is empty.
There is no one to save me.
He’ll rape me. Torture me. Kill me if he wants to.
For a split second, I think about fighting back, but what can I do really? I have no muscles. I can’t get free. If I yell, no one will come.
So I do nothing.
I surrender, hoping it will be over faster, that it will hurt less if I give in.
“Good girl,” he says again, watching me silently crumble before him.
I must blackout.
Or maybe my brain blocks it out.
The rest comes in flashes.
My bikini being ripped apart.
Him palming my breasts.
Shoving fingers inside me.
Grabbing my throat so hard it left marks.
Beating me so hard I can still feel the bruises.
Forcing my mouth open to suck him.
Being tied up so hard it left marks on my wrists.
And the violation.
Over.
And over.
And over.
That day was both the longest and the shortest of my life.
In the moment, it seemed to last forever, but huge chunks of the night have been taken from my memory that it makes the day feel too short.
Slowly, I start coming back to reality, realizing that I’m not in Enzo’s room. I’m in the woods with Langston.
The part of the story I’ve spoken so far is known. I could keep going; I could get to the part that he still knows, but if I take it far enough, I could speak a truth he doesn’t know.
But I can’t.
I’m drained from telling that much of the story.
The pain that comes after is too much. It’s not something I speak about.
I won’t be able to gain myself more time. I’ll be sleeping in the dirt on an uninhabited island with my enemy, who will punish me for lying.
At least I can lash out at him with the end of my story.
I glance over at Langston. He’s still sitting on the log; his eyes focused on me through the flames of the fire. He’s motionless, expressionless—almost like a statue.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t rush me. He doesn’t call out any part as a lie. He doesn’t tell me that I’ve already told this story before.
My eyes meet his for the first time since I’ve been talking. Actually, I have no idea if my eyes have met his or not. When I was telling the story, it was like I was reliving it.
Now, though, is about delivering a blow to Langston.
“I was angry at Enzo when I thought he knew what happened to me and didn’t stop it. When he didn’t help me. Didn’t save me. But I still wanted him. Still thought I could fall in love with him. He was still the better man, the better choice.”
I pause.
And I notice Langston’s shoulders tense—disagreeing with me.
“You know why? Because Enzo didn’t know what his father did. I just thought he did. He should have known, but he didn’t. But there was someone who did know. Someone who watched it all happen from the security camera.”
I glare at Langston.
“You. You watched me get raped by that sadistic devil. You watched my life be torn apart. You saw what happened next, and you did nothing.”
My voice shakes as I speak. This isn’t new. I’ve told this story to our friend group. Langston was there. But I’ve never screamed it in his face. Never confronted him with what could be the truth.
Langston is always watching. He’s the best at security. He knew what happened to me. He was either watching in real-time, or he watched a recording.
He knew, and he did nothing.
My body shakes, but tears never come. I don’t feel sadness, pain, or fear. Not after that night. Not after my worst night, still yet to come.
Langston watches me through the fire.
And for a moment, I think he’s going to say nothing.
“I was just doing my job,” he says.
“You’re a heartless monster.”
He stands up. “And you’re a liar.”
16
Langston
Liesel is a liar.
A schemer.
She knows how to draw men in with her words. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She chose her story well and spun the web of lies so tightly that it’s hard to make out which parts are the truths and which parts are the lies.
It pisses me off. I should be able to tell. I know practically everything there is to know about this woman—except for one missing piece. A piece she will eventually tell me, but not without a fight.
She w
on’t fight with her fists. She’ll fight with lies. Cruel, merciless lies that will be carved into my heart forever. There is no way to verify which parts are true and which parts aren’t.
But I know she lied.
I can verify at least one part of her story that isn’t true. And the fact that she didn’t fight me when I called her a liar tells me she did indeed lie.
But how much of it was a lie?
I march through the darkness away from the fire, away from her. If I stay, I’ll do something I’ll regret.
I start jogging as my eyes adjust to the darkness. Working for Enzo and Kai has trained me to see through the jet black night, but it’s still careless. I shouldn’t leave Liesel alone. I shouldn’t run when one wrong step could mean I fall off a cliff or get attacked by a wild animal.
I run from Liesel, but it’s more like I’m running from her words. God, how her words cut me deep.
It hurts.
It all hurts.
Liesel blames me for the rape, just like she blames Enzo.
I should have been there for her. I should have saved her just like Enzo should have.
But I wasn’t watching her on the security cameras. I didn’t know. At the time, I was in charge of security at the clubs, not at the house. I was good at hacking back then, but the cameras at the house were the most sophisticated we had. I’m not even sure if I was capable of hacking the system to watch out for her then.
Liesel knows that.
But her words cut me nonetheless. They hurt because despite what she says, I do have a heart—one I’ve tried to eliminate every chance I’ve gotten. My life would be much easier if I could. But as hard as I’ve tried, it’s still there.
It just doesn’t feel the same way about Liesel as it once did.
All her words rip through me, shredding me to pieces.
The rape.
God, she’s told the story before, but hearing it tonight with no one else but us, it hit me harder.
She was just a girl.
We should have protected her.
We failed.
As hard as it was to hear the details again, it was harder to hear of her and Enzo.
How they kissed.
How she wanted him.
Could have loved him.
Maybe even would have ended up with Enzo if it wasn’t for his dad.
And I have no idea if it was all a lie or a truth.
She said she forgave him, but could never forgive me.
She shouldn’t forgive either of us.
Just like I could never forgive her.
That’s what I have to remember when my feelings spike again, being so close with Liesel. I once thought she was the only woman for me. Now, I can’t think of a worse human being on the planet.
I stop running, my lungs finally burning, finally reminding me of pain instead of the ache I feel for Liesel after her bearing her story.
“She’s a liar, Langston. Don’t believe a word out of her mouth,” I tell myself as I try to catch my breath.
I put my hands over my head as I walk through the forest.
She’s a liar.
Never forget.
As I walk back, the story replays in my head, and I realize that I don’t think that was the story she intended to tell, it just spilled out. She didn’t have a choice but to speak the words, which makes me think the beginning was true. Everything with Enzo—true. It was the second part she changed to try and hurt me.
I won’t let her see my hurt.
My pain.
When I approach the fire where she still sits, I’m stone—emotionless.
“Ready to punish me?” she asks into the darkness. She can’t see me, but she can feel me, just like I can feel the icy daggers she willingly flings in my direction.
I’m silent as I walk back over to my backpack and pull another bottle of water out. I drink it as I sit on the ground, leaning against the log. I stare across the fire at her.
“Rape me just like he did. Ruin me. Make me hate you,” she says.
“You already hate me.”
She bites her lip. “Do it. Prove to me once and for all—you’re the monster I always thought you were.”
Provoking me isn’t going to work. We both know I’m a monster, but the only way I gain control is if this happens on my terms and not hers.
“Come here,” I say.
Her lip slips from her teeth. She thinks I’m calling her bluff, but there is no fear. Liesel isn’t afraid of anything. She’s lived through hell—there is nothing worse that could happen to her.
Liesel stands and walks to me. She won’t fight me, just like she didn’t fight Mr. Black. She thinks this is the best way to survive. Get me to rape her, and then she doesn’t have to have nightmares about what might happen, she’ll already know.
“Sit.”
Liesel sits face to face, her eyes turning yellow as the flames reflect off her pupils.
“I didn’t bring a blanket. Keep me warm tonight.”
She blinks rapidly, her ears straining like she thinks I misspoke.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I lie down on the dirt. I’m not the least bit cold, not after I ran a mile. The fire alone would keep me plenty warm.
But I want her to have to touch me all night. I want her to feel me. To lose control. To wonder if, at any moment, I might change my mind and have my way with her.
I must break her.
This will drive the first nail in harder than fucking her against the dirt ever would.
“Keep yourself warm,” Liesel spits at me.
I shake my head. “You lied. There are consequences. Keep me warm.”
“Or?” she asks, wanting to know what I’ll do to her if she disobeys.
“There is no ‘or.’ You will use your body to keep me warm.”
We stare at each other—a silent standoff.
The wind howls.
Liesel shudders.
I don’t know if she decides to follow my orders or if she’s looking to warm herself. Either way, she finally lies down on the dirt next to me.
“Liesel,” I warn when she doesn’t touch me.
She lifts an arm over my body. It floats in the air, refusing to touch me. It hovers there until her arm trembles, and she can’t hold it up any longer. Only then does she let it wrap around my shoulders.
The touch sends a million emotions through us both. It reminds me of when we were kids. Long before she knew Enzo, she knew me. It was my bed she snuck into, not his. It was me she longed for, not him.
“My legs are cold too.”
Her eyes shoot up to me, and she practically pouts.
I smirk, but I’m not sure she can see it, which is a shame, because I look irresistible when I smirk.
Her leg moves in a hard lump as she drapes it harshly over my legs.
I close my eyes with a smile. I’ve formed a tiny, almost unnoticeable crack in her shell. Tomorrow I’ll form another and another. I’ll torture her with tiny little cracks until she finally bursts.
I need her truth.
I need her answers.
I need her apology for what she’s done.
But I refuse to need her.
17
Liesel
Snuggling with Langston is torture.
It’s worse than anything Mr. Black did to me.
It’s worse than…okay, it’s not really as terrible as the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but I imagine this is how it feels to be shot and slowly bleed out to death. Every drop is painful, and you just want to get to the end so it can be over.
Holding Langston feels like that.
I can smell the sweat from his pores that he worked up after he stormed off. It overpowers even the smell of the fire.
I can hear his gentle, controlled breath in and out, louder than the chirp of the bugs and hum of the wind.
I can feel his warmth—there is no way he needs my body to stay warm.
W
hy do I stay draped over his body, then?
Because as soon as I touch him—I’m his. I can’t turn away. Some part of me I thought I had long ago buried likes his smell, how he sounds, his touch. I like it more than I should. I like a man I hate—a man who wants to kill me.
I’ve always wanted Langston. He was the first boy I ever wanted. I wanted him before I wanted Enzo. I just don’t think about that time and wanting Langston was something I never spoke out loud. I never let anyone know, even him.
That could be the truth that frees me, but I will never admit it to Langston.
It was just lust, not want for the man beneath the muscles, the smug smirk, the light-colored hair boy who taught me how to hunt, to search for secrets. He was the boy who taught me to lie.
If I could separate Langston the man from Langston’s body, maybe I’d finally give in to my desires, and we’d fuck willingly. Unfortunately, the only way to separate the two is to kill him and then fuck him, and I’m not into necrophilia.
Langston starts snoring. He’s asleep. Now’s my chance—to break free of his arms, to run.
I don’t want to run, but I shouldn’t stay snuggled up against him.
I force my head to lift and my arm to slink off his chest.
But his hand grips my arm, gently pulling it back over his chest. He’s still snoring; I’m not even sure if he woke up or not.
I huff out a deep breath.
There is no way I’m sleeping tonight.
The sun is what wakes me. It’s bright and hot and makes me squint as I open my eyes.
I slept.
I didn’t think I could.
And I’m still lying on Langston’s chest.
I jump up.
“Easy,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you breaking a nail. There are no salons around here.”
I frown as I regain my composure and remember what happened and where I am.
Birds are chirping happily nearby, and I swear I hear monkeys in the distance. We are in the wild, and I just slept on dirt. Well, technically, I slept on Langston. I should be grateful, but I’m not.
I fold my arms over my sweatshirt that is once again heating me up. I really should have taken Langston up on his offer for me to wear new clothes. These sweatpants and sweatshirt really aren’t made for the jungle.
