“No, and yes.”
“What?” I look at him, confused.
“Ella, I care about you so much, maybe too much. Even with as much as I know that this is a bad thing that I shouldn’t be feeling how I do, and I know that hearing whatever you will say next will tear me apart inside. I’ll probably fucking kill him. On the flip side, if you stop, I’ll only imagine and then want to kill him. Either way, same outcome.” I actually laugh again. “You decide what you need because either way, he’s fucking dead.” Somehow, hearing him say that eases me. And makes me feel better in a ‘maybe I had a fucked-up childhood’ type of way. Moving away from him, I lean against the bed frame. “Or not—”
“Sh, just let me get it out.” I mumble. “I heard something, so I went out with my gun. When I got back to my room, I didn’t know he was in there waiting.” Even in the darkness, I can feel him get angry. “He didn’t grab me until I set the gun down. Then he used it against me.”
He mumbles to himself, and I’m pretty sure I hear something about jamming a gun down his throat, but I dismiss it.
“I actually got away from him twice, but he chased me down. He nearly shot me.” I tell him recounting the second time I broke away from him. “I swear, I heard the fucking bullet go past my ear. He’s either a fucking amazing or horrible shot. I think the more fucked up thing and the thing that plays in my head constantly is when he was… uh… done… he said huh, looks like you were telling the truth.”
“How would he…” he trails, and I hear him as he realizes what I’m telling him. “Fucking hell, Ella.” I feel his hands on me as he pulls me into him and I’m not sure if he does it to console me or himself, like gripping on to me to make sure that I’m real, that I’m here. “Fuck,” he growls, not at me, but just at the situation. I hear his rumble in his chest. “This is probably going to sound bizarre coming from me, but have you thought about reporting it?”
“I already tried that night.”
“Tried?”
“Yeah, I was told that there wasn’t any physical evidence, and the detective told me the DA probably wouldn’t take the case on, that even if they did, the defense would tear me apart on the stand because of who my dad is. But I could file a restraining order… that was until he heard his last name…”
“Motherfucker.” Breathing out, he pulls me in tighter. “That’s why at Ash’s party?”
“Yeah, I have been trying not to feel anything. And just get over it.”
“Baby, you don’t have to just get over it. It’s something traumatic and you’re allowed to be affected by it. The hardest part with shit like this is learning how to live with these things.” He tells me and I look down.
“Yeah, I haven’t really been doing that well.”
“And no one would expect you to be.”
“I’ve just been trying to figure out ways to get the feeling of his hands off of me.” I shiver and I feel his grip tighten.
“How?”
“Every way I can think of drugs, booze, sex.”
“Sex?” He asks and I feel like I can hear the slight jealousy in his voice.
“Yeah,” I whisper out before I look over at him. “Promise me something though.” I whisper as I lay my head back on his chest.
“Anything, Babydoll.”
“Please don’t tell them and promise me you and the club won’t go after him.” I can feel him look at me.
“Ella— “
“Carter,” I sit up slightly, “nobody needs to go to prison for this. He’s already caused enough grief in my life; don’t let him take everyone away from me.” He exhales loudly as if he really doesn’t want to agree to it.
“Okay, I promise.” And somehow, instantly, I feel like a weight is lifted off of me. And my eyes grow heavy as I lean against his chest.
Waking up, I’m lying in his bed, alone. I’m not sure if I slept so well because I finally got everything out to someone who actually believed me or if it was just because I felt safe sleeping next to Axe. I remember most of last night, and even if I was still a little drunk when I went to sleep, I remember confessing to him what happened, and I remember that he actually fucking believed me.
“Axe?” I call out in the room. Waiting for an answer, but one doesn’t come. I slide to the side of the bed before I stand up. Seeing that his prosthetic is gone, I head for the door. At the top of the stairs. I can hear him talking downstairs as I walk down to the living room, instantly being able to smell food.
“Good morning,” the man from last night smirks as he laughs, looking over at me. “Feeling better today?”
“Yeah, much better.” I tell him before I look over to Axe and he looks away.
