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I hate her.
I want her dead.
She means nothing to me.
I keep repeating that shit over and over in my head, I want to be the one to break her and see her crumble to nothing beneath my feet, but the thought of someone else touching her has my trigger finger itching and the need to peel skin from bone thrumming inside me. The car is filled with tension and I can tell my boys are amped up and ready to lay into some fuckers the moment we get back. Xander drives like a bat out of hell, taking sharp turns that have us gripping the oh shit handle so we don’t slam into each other.
A mile out from the house, I reach into the back and grab the duffle bag filled with guns and place it on the seat between Taylan and me, I pull out the bulletproof vests and toss one to him then hand Floyd his and Xander’s. We may be the mafia but that doesn’t mean we are stupid and go into a gun fight unprotected if we can help it. I pull guns out and hand them to the guys, Xander snatches one from Floyd’s lap. The noise of magazines dropping out are the only sounds as we check our mags and make sure we are fully loaded. I flick the safety on two of my guns as I shove them into my waistband and grab another four mags from the bag and stuff them in the slots on my vest. I double check the mag on the gun in my hand before flicking the safety off as we screech around the corner, bringing us onto our street.
“Fuck,” Tay mutters at the sight in front of us. Cars are scattered all over the street, the sound of gunshots and screams can be heard through the car. Rather than feeling fear like a normal person, all I feel is excitement. I never feel more alive than when I’m about to put my life on the line. There is a fine line between being suicidal and living for the thrill of is this my last moment. Xander plants his foot and rams into the Dodge pickup blocking the street before we throw our doors open and join in the fight.
Lakeland
I lay here numb, staring up at the ceiling for hours like it holds the answers to the questions swirling in my mind. I allowed him to defile my body, I didn’t even put up a fight when that stupid flashback or whatever the fuck it was played through my mind instead. I clung to him. I don’t know what is happening to me, my headaches are always present now that I am not on my medication. I worry with how often they are coming on that I won’t be able to cope with the pain. I have noticed though that without taking my medication, my mind doesn’t seem as cloudy.
I hate that I allowed him inside me and I even came. The reminder has a sob escaping my mouth. I tried to quiet the sound by burying my face in the blanket but the moment I rolled onto my side, I felt the slickness between my thighs.
“No.” I gasp in horror as I sit up to see his cum coating my inner thighs, but that isn’t the worst part, I see my blood and shake with silent tears.
He stole my virginity.
He robbed me of that special moment and I didn’t even fight him, I allowed him to use me all because I had a stupid thought or whatever the hell you want to call it. I’m a weak pathetic fucking whore! I drag myself off the bed and refuse to look back at the ruined sheets. A hiss escapes me as I take a step, feeling the ghost of him inside me. He wasn't gentle, he took me brutally and didn’t give an ounce of care to how I would feel. Ignoring the throbbing pain between my legs and burning ache, I stagger to the bathroom needing to rid myself of his touch.
Once in the shower I scrub until my skin is crimson and raw. I gently clean between my legs and slam my eyes closed when the burning sensation from the water intensifies. I'm no expert but from the pain I am in I know he tore me. The realization has a whimper bubbling out of me. I try to fight back the tears and refuse to allow him to reduce me to a sobbing mess, but it’s a fucking struggle. I feel so weak compared to him, he can overpower me and take what he wants without consequence, and the fact my own sister sat by and did nothing to defend me or even help has a stabbing pain blooming in my chest. A rhythmic tapping on the bedroom door snaps me out of my pity fest. I switch off the shower and hastily wrap a towel around my body.
I wait a minute to see if someone will enter but when no one does I sigh gratefully. I don’t think I could face anyone right now after what happened. There is no doubt in my mind that they all heard me. Disgust rolls through me and I feel bile rise in my throat. I swallow it down and fight the urge to vomit.
“Lake?” I grit my teeth at the sound of my sister's voice coming from the other side of the door. Ignoring her incessant knocking, I help myself to his clothes in the dresser and pull out a black shirt and find a pair of sweats that are way too large for me to the point I have to roll them at the waist four times to fit! “I know you can hear me!” she shouts, I ignore her again. I turn to the bed and flinch at the sight of the specks of blood on the white sheets. Not wanting the reminder, I snatch the sheets off the bed and dump them in the corner of the room. I shoot them a glare and stomp my foot as if they are the reason I am in a shitty mood. “Lakeland, you can’t ignore me all day.”
“Yes, the fuck I can,” I mutter angrily to myself as I stomp around the room aimlessly, trying to find something to occupy my mind so I don’t spiral.
“I know you’re mad.” I snort, mad is a fucking understatement. “But I need to tell you something, Lake, and I need you to understand that what you have been told about the accident is a lie.” I freeze at the mention of my accident. I know exactly what happened. Dad told me it was Knox Bronson that ran me down that night. “Knox didn’t do it, Lake.”
Clenching my fists at my sides, I glare at the door. How could she say something like that when she was by my side every single day that I was in the hospital! She saw how I struggled through rehabilitation and dealing with the scars that now mar my body. Jesus, I can’t even wear a swimsuit without them being on fucking display for the world to see. I have struggled to accept and love my body for years now. Thanks to that horrible night, I suffer from constant headaches due to stress and if I overdo it, I wind up with a migraine that ends up causing me to black out, which is why I have to take medication daily.
“The story Dad told you is a lie.”
Unable to keep quiet any longer I lash out. “You’re a fucking liar!” I scream at the closed door. “You’re saying that because you’re screwing them!”
“Pot meet kettle, sister. From what I heard, you went to pound town with Knox!” I recoil in self-loathing. I want to deny her claim and scream she is wrong but it wasn’t like he forced me.
“Go away, River,” I mumble bitterly as I make way over to the bed and drop down onto the edge in a huff.
I hear her sigh and know that she isn’t going anywhere. “Lake, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Rolling my eyes I remain silent, waiting to hear what else she has to say. “Look, I know this is hard for you to believe but Dad lied to you.”
“Why would he lie to me? You were there when he told me what happened and so were the doctors. What the hell do you have to gain out of this bullshit story?” I can’t keep the anger from my tone and right now, I don’t care to try. She is dredging up shit from my past that she knows hurts me. I have no memory of the night of the accident, that whole day is blank for me. I had to rely on my father and sister to help explain why the hell I was in the hospital. I was scared, confused and in a really dark place for a long time as I came to terms with the fact my life had changed forever because of some man’s grudge against my father.
“Because he didn’t want you to know the truth. I had to lie to you, Lake, and I hated doing it but if I didn’t he threatened to… kill you.”
“Six years later and now you finally think it’s a good idea to come clean about this?” Sarcasm laces each of my words. “Dad had no reason to lie to me. I know Knox tried to kill me because of some business deal that went wrong with Dad?—”
“Knox was the reason for the accident but he never caused it. He would never have hurt you, Lakeland, because he—” She’s cut off by the sounds of gunshots and men screaming. Panic flares inside me.
“River, what’s going on?” Hysteria rises inside me as I’m locked in a fucking room while shots are being fired.
“Stay here and hide. Don’t make a fucking sound until I come for you, okay. I love you, little sister.” A lump forms in my throat as fear grips me in its clutches, robbing me of air and thought. The stabbing sensation in the back of my head snaps me out of my meltdown.
“Love you too,” I whisper so quietly I know she wouldn’t have heard. I look around the room trying to find a weapon or anything to defend myself with. The noise outside the door has my blood running cold. I hear screams and more shots, suddenly I don’t feel so angry about being locked in this room. I find nothing as I yank the drawers open and rummage through his clothes, checking the closet all I find is nothing! When I walk back into the room my eyes are glued to a framed painting on the far wall.
