by Gemma James
He pushed in with a fierce plunge, and I grunted from the grating burn. My foggy state dissolved, whisked away by the harshness of his thrusts.
“Feel that, Lex?” He ground out as he pumped, his gaze commanding mine, challenging me to break the contact. I didn’t dare. “That’s my cock in you. Not his. Mine.”
Tears leaked from my eyes as he plowed into me mercilessly. The salty drops trailed down the sides of my face and pooled at my ears.
“Apologize for being a whore, and maybe I won’t choke you with my dick.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, despising the whining plea of my tone. I wasn’t sorry at all—I was only sorry I’d let Rafe’s name slip from my lips. He plowed against my cervix, and I shrieked.
“What the fuck is my name?”
“Zach.”
He withdrew, removed the belt from his loops as he shuffled back, and brought the strap down on my pussy. I squealed like a pig, the pain so searing, he might as well have used an electric prod.
“Say it again.”
“Zach!”
“Scream it!”
“Zach!” I sobbed. “This isn’t you. Please, remember us. Please. You used to make me feel safe.”
“And you never appreciated it.” He tossed the belt on the floor then rammed me so hard, my ass slid up the mattress a few inches. My cries echoed, hoarse from screaming for him to stop. I don’t think he even heard me.
He’d snapped, and I couldn’t reach the human part of him. The part that was my brother. This untamed creature was unrecognizable, blind with bloodlust and rage. He’d waited until I crashed from the ecstasy to unleash the beast, mouth snarling and teeth gnashing, knowing how I’d be incapable of becoming aroused after coming off the drug. Every thrust of his cock bruised, burned, and rubbed me raw. Whatever tenderness he’d shown in the past couple of weeks had vanished. He was wasted and pissed, and no one was coming to save me.
“Zach…stop…” My voice failed me, coming out as nothing more than a whimper. “Stop.”
“You don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do.” The rip of tape screeched through my ears, and he secured a strip over my mouth. “Go on, Lex. Say his name now. I dare you to try.” His laughter tingled down my spine. He withdrew his knife from the pocket of his jeans. “I’ll make sure you never forget who’s fucking you again.”
The cool edge of his blade pressed into my stomach. On the inside, I screamed in agony, but only a pathetic whine escaped my sealed lips. My heart pounded in my chest, panic rising as I struggled, digging my feet into the mattress and pushing up the bed a couple of inches. His forceful hands grabbed my thighs and yanked me back in place, and his cock plunged in again.
“Hold the fuck still.” His knife sliced into my skin, deeper this time. I kept my attention on his face, terrified of seeing the damage he was doing, but also giving one last attempt at reaching him with my eyes.
“Fucking gorgeous.” He swiveled his hips and moaned. “Fuck…your cunt never felt this good.” He continued carving, saying more, but the words were indiscernible beyond my smothered cries. I feared he would kill me, dig the blade in too deeply, slash an organ. With that last thought came the disturbing discovery that maybe he’d finally give me a way out. No more pain. No more guilt or shame. No more surviving.
I’d been surviving for ten years, and I was tired. Second by second, my body grew limp, hands and feet losing strength, limbs going listless. The broken organ in my chest was ready to give up. I didn’t have any fight left. Only acceptance. I’d never get out of this hell. The days would continue, erasing any remnant of my brother, only to be permanently replaced by this brutal impostor driven by alcohol, obsession, and the most dangerous of all—jealousy. The will to fight abandoned me.
As he slashed and fucked, his thrusts slow and erratic, I closed my eyes and gave up.
“Mmm, this is gonna be my favorite way to fuck you. You’re so sexy, vulnerable, with my name carved in your skin.” He bent down, and the wet slide of his tongue lapped at where he’d sliced. “You’re mine to brand. Shit, baby. I should’ve taken you years ago. No one’s standing in our way now.” Sliding up my body, his stomach smeared the blood I knew tainted my belly, and he pushed his cock deeper.
I gave in to the blank place in my mind where I didn’t exist. The small cubbyhole where I could hibernate for the rest of my life. But something wouldn’t let me go. Hope licked the edges of my consciousness, demanding more.
I don’t have anything left to give.
Fight, dammit! Find a way to escape.
Can’t.
Rafe is still alive.
My heart skipped. He doesn’t want me.
Zach lied to you. Of course he wants you. He would never turn his back.
I hurt him too much. He couldn’t forgive me.
You need to forgive yourself first. After you get the hell out of here.
I tried! Zach will never let me go.
Try harder.
Shut up, shut up, shut up! I mentally screamed as laughter rumbled in my chest. God, I was losing my mind. But I didn’t need the crazy phantom in my head giving me false hope. Rafe wasn’t coming. I wasn’t worth it.
You don’t know that.
Shut up!
I was on my own, and I couldn’t even blame Rafe. He’d had to deal with eight years of imprisonment. Just because his incarceration had been at the hands of the system didn’t make it any less horrific than what I suffered now. He’d been raped, just like me.
Zach grunted, pulling me from the turmoil of my mind, and his cock stilled in my bruised cunt. He let out a frustrated growl. The alcohol flooding his system messed with his libido, making it difficult for him to come. I preferred when he stuck it in and got it over with. But he’d wanted to unleash his anger, and I was his favorite plaything. His hands moved to my burning wrists.
“Every time you say his fucking name, I’ll carve mine into your body.” His knife, tainted with my blood, cut through the tape and freed me. He ripped the strip from my mouth, tugged on my arms, and forced me into a kneeling position on the bed. His large hand fisted my hair and brought my mouth to his glistening cock.
“Need you to suck me off.” He pushed between my lips and shoved to the back of my throat. Gagging, I slapped at his hard abs, hands uselessly pressing against his stomach, but he used both fists to hold me flush with his abdomen, smothering my airway as he choked me with his girth.
I flailed, panicking as my lungs burned, as vomit rose in my throat. He yanked out only to thrust in again. In that moment, I no longer existed. I was just a shell, a thing made up of skin and bones, my sole purpose to submit while he pummeled my holes.
Fight, Alex! Find a way out before he completely destroys you.
Stop! Stop! Stop! Stop! I covered my ears, my frantic scream gurgling in my throat. His erection gagged me again, and I was certain I’d drown in my own vomit.
“Oh fuuuuck, Lex…” His cum shot down my throat, but I couldn’t stop screaming. He pulled out, and I spewed cum and what little I’d eaten that day onto the floor. He wrenched my hands free from my ears, and I realized I was still wailing. Hysteria didn’t touch the state I was in.
“Knock it off!” He brought his face within inches of mine. “What is wrong with you?”
What was wrong with me?
Everything. Every decision I’d made, every mistake, spawned from cowardice, led to this moment. I was too stupid to live. My gaze flickered to the bed where he’d dropped the knife between cutting me and making me choke on his cum.
Find a way out.
I sucked air into my lungs, catching my breath, and tramped down the need to throw up again. “Water,” I blurted, holding my throbbing head. “I’m too hot. I’m gonna get sick again.”
He glanced down at the vomit at his feet, his mouth twisting with disgust. “It was just a fucking blow job, Lex. Does my dick repulse you that much?”
I shook my head quickly. “No, it-it’s the drugs. I need water.” I hated t
he meek sound of my voice, despised it. Why couldn’t I be stronger? Why couldn’t I jump to my feet and pound my fist into his face?
Don’t enrage the beast further. There’s only one way out, and you know it.
That was not the same voice of hope from a few minutes ago. That was the real me, the voice of despair who gave cold, hard truth.
Zach stood and his expression softened, as if a hint of my brother had returned. Or maybe he was sobering up, now that the frenzy had passed. Now that he’d emptied his cum and his rage into me. I tried not to glance at the knife again, and prayed he’d leave it behind.
“Be right back.” He grabbed it and left the room, taking my hope with him. My heartbeat thudded as his quiet steps receded down the hall. Desperation corrupted my soul, and the overwhelming need to end this possessed me.
Do it now. Before he comes back.
I sprinted to the bathroom, shut and locked the door, then searched the cabinets and drawers for a razor. Empty. Empty, empty, empty! He’d shaved my legs days ago. Where were the razors? I found nothing, save for a lone Q-tip. I flung it to the floor in disgust then scoured the tiny space for something to break the mirror with, my whole body shaking. Finding nothing, I settled for pounding my fist on the glass, wincing against the pain, though it didn’t compare to what Zach had put me through.
What he’ll put you through if you don’t succeed.
A piece broke free, and I clutched it in my bloodied hand. I birthed an unknown creature inside me, one who thirsted for my death. That creature whispered in my ear and told me to turn on the faucet in the tub. Told me to ignore the panic squeezing my chest as the water splashed into the bottom. I stepped over the side, placing one trembling foot inside, before lifting the other over the rim.
Zach banged on the door, words I couldn’t make out screeching through the wood. I couldn’t hear him above the roar in my head—the scream that told me to sink into the depths of my phobia and let it dispose of me. My back slammed against the cold porcelain, and as the door shook under his weight, I took the piece of mirror and gouged it into my left arm, dragging the sharp edge up my forearm to my wrist.
Just like Mom.
I wept, chest heaving uncontrollably, and a tremor of remorse went through me, but it was fleeting. I took the glass, held awkwardly in my left hand, and tore into the opposite wrist. Blood bathed my skin, hiding the faint scars from years of silently screaming.
Free. Finally free.
The glass fell from my fingers. I slumped into the tub, arms plopping into rising water, and closed my eyes as my head dropped against the rim. I wondered if Mom had felt this way. Had she experienced this same clarifying sense of relief? The certainty that the suffering would end soon. I couldn’t wait to see her. I ached to feel her arms around me, craved the sweet scent I still remembered, even to this day. Jasmine. God, I could already smell it.
A crash sounded, and Zach’s scream tore me from my serenity. “Lex!”
He lifted me from the water and held my body to his quaking chest. “Why?” Gut wrenching remorse coated that single word. I cracked my lids open, and through the haze I found his cheeks wet with grief.
I blinked several times until he came into sharper focus. “Can’t do this anymore.” The room narrowed, shadows deepening around the edges. “Zach,” I said, my voice growing weaker. “I’m scared.”
“No”—a sob burst from his mouth—“hang on, baby!”
I felt weightless in his arms, jostled like a rag doll, as he strode from the bathroom. I clung to the protective shell of numbness enclosing my heart, chasing the fear away. I was safe, as light as a feather and floating toward the promise of infinite peace. He laid my drenched body on the bed, where I crashed back to Earth before he disappeared from sight.
What had I done? I lifted my arms, rotated them so the bloody gashes in my skin faced me, and shivered. Cold. Why was I so cold? Why was I still awake? Still alive? Had I done it wrong?
No! I couldn’t even kill myself right. I should have dug deeper.
You did the best you could. Now use this to get out of here.
Why was the voice back? I cried out, horrified by the desperation choking me.
Zach returned, a phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. He held my wrists to the mattress and applied pressure. “Oh God, hurry!” His shoulders shook as tears careened down his face, and the phone toppled to the floor.
“Don’t leave me. Please…I’m sorry. Don’t go. Please don’t go. Lex?” His hands banded around my wrists with incredible strength, as if he could hold the life inside me. “Help’s coming.” He dropped his head onto my stomach, his cheek smearing the bloody product of his madness, and bawled.
Help’s coming.
Those two words echoed like a blessed chant. His lips moved against my skin, but I didn’t hear what he said. All I heard was his promise.
I was getting out of here.
12. FOOLISH
Alex
Voices surrounded me, some asking questions. I tried to open my eyes, but my lids were so heavy, as heavy as the weight of my thudding heart.
“Zach?”
What was happening? My body jostled on a thinly padded surface, and a siren blared in my ears. I swayed, and my stomach dropped. Felt like I was being transported. I spaced in and out of consciousness, and the crisp scent of pine and nature disappeared, replaced by a hint of fresh water and fish. It reminded me of being on Rafe’s island.
Was I near a river? Where was he taking me this time?
“Zach?” Why wasn’t he answering me?
“Hang on,” an unfamiliar voice said. His tone was deep, reassuring. “We’re almost there.”
I must have blacked out again, though I vaguely recalled the shout of voices, commands, and haste motion.
“Alexandra.”
That voice I recognized, and it drifted to me faintly. I tried to lift my lids, but they stuck to my eyeballs. “Dad.” I moaned, turning my head and finally forcing my eyes open.
The fuzzy bulk of his form sat to my left. He leaned to one side and brought a hand to his chin, stroking the graying stubble there. The gesture reminded me of Zach and caused a chill to go down my spine. He leaned forward and settled his much larger hand over mine. “I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I lost you.”
“What happened?” My gaze darted around the nondescript room. The blinds were cracked slightly to allow the sunlight in. I angled my head back and noticed the medical equipment above the bed.
“You don’t remember?” he asked.
Coming fully alert, images went off like flashes in my mind. Rafe, the island, Zach…my last desperate attempt to free myself from him forever. A horrified cry tumbled from my mouth, and I lifted my arms. White bandages covered both to a few inches below my elbows, wrapping in mummy-like fashion.
“The doctor said you were lucky you didn’t damage any tendons.” He cleared his throat. “Thank God it appeared worse than it was.”
“How…” I met Dad’s gaze. “How did I get here?” Memories surfaced as soon as the words left my mouth. Zach sobbing his grief and remorse onto my stomach as he used his hands to stem the flow of blood, how he’d pleaded with me not to leave him. The same hands that inflicted so much pain had banded around my wounds to save me. Even now his actions seemed counterproductive, considering all he’d done.
But he had saved me. In his own sick and twisted way, he’d loved me enough to let me go, if letting me go meant I wouldn’t die.
“A ranger found you. You were in a cabin near Mt. Hood. An anonymous caller reported your suicide attempt, but you were alone when they found you. Do you have any memory of how you got there, or how your car ended up in the Columbia River?”
Rafe…he’d freed me from a life I’d wanted to escape, then Zach had imprisoned me with the shackles of his obsession. I nodded slowly, looking at the last few weeks from all angles. “I remember, but it’s not what you think.”
He gave a pointed look at my ar
ms. “Talk to me.”
“It was Zach. He wouldn’t let me go. Dad”—I lowered my head, facing away in shame—“he took me. It was all him. He’s been r-rap—”
“Alexandra.” His tone made me gulp, and I felt like I was twelve again. “Your brother has been busy at our new MMA training camp in Seattle for the past month. We announced it formally this morning.”
His words hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. He was doing it again. Protecting Zach. No doubt paying people to say what needed to be said. Fabricating photos and controlling what the media reported. I didn’t have to see the evidence—he’d done it so many times already, hiding Zach’s downward spiral into alcoholism, his erratic behavior during training sessions and events, but I never thought he’d throw me under the bus.
His own daughter.
You’re not his daughter though. Not by blood.
I trembled at the voice in my head, and I hated how my eyes burned from hurt. Struggling to sit up, I hefted my legs over the side of the bed and stood. On wobbly limbs, I turned to confront him. “I can prove Zach did it. His fucking sperm is still inside me.”
I lifted my gown to just below my breasts and put Zach’s carving on display. Glancing down almost made me retch, but I swallowed the rancid taste in my mouth. Zach hadn’t exaggerated; he’d carved his name into my skin so clearly, a first grader would be able to read it. “I suppose I did this to myself too, right? Or maybe it was another man name Zach who took me, raped me, and drugged me out of my mind.”
Dad wouldn’t even look at me, and that pissed me off more than anything. “He can’t get away with this. I can’t keep living this way.”
“My poor girl.” He shook his head. “I’ll get you the help you need.”
“It was Zach!” I screamed, losing my balance and stumbling into the side of the bed. Propping myself up with both hands, I tried to ignore the bandages, but they sat between us, as if to perpetuate the deception. I hadn’t wanted to die. I’d just wanted…free.
