Page 81 of Shattered In Darkness

She flinches. “It means whatever the fuck they want. Sometimes I just have to dress up and flirt and let them stare. Sometimes it’s more. Dinner parties. Hands on my legs under the table. His men watch. If I fight, he gets mean later. He tells me it’s all business. That I’m an asset.”

I want to punch a hole in the wall.

She keeps talking, voice cracked, words spilling out between shaky breaths.

I lean over her, close enough to see every twitch. “That’s it?” My voice is empty. “That’s all he did?”

Her fingers twist in the blanket. “No. Sometimes he’d tell me to—” She stops. Swallows. “Sometimes he’d watch. Make me sit on men’s laps. Let them touch. Not always. But enough.”

I see red. My knuckles ache. I want to slam my fist into the fucking wall.

“Did you like it?” I ask. I need her to hurt. “Did you ever want them?”

Her eyes snap to mine. Wide and furious. “No. I hated it. I hate you for asking.”

I clench my jaw. I want to believe her. I don’t know what’s real. My mind stings. “Don’t lie to me, Lola. I’ll know.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not lying. I swear. You don’t know what it’s like.”

I don’t. I never will. I pace once, twice, then crouch back down, hands trembling. “He ever mention my mother?” I say angrily. “The accident. Did he ever say a word about her?”

She shakes her head. “No—never. He only talked about business. Control. He never said her name.”

I watch her. I want to rip the truth out of her mouth. I want to believe she’s clean, and I want to prove she’s filthy. I don’t know which I want more.

“I’m telling you everything I know.” Her hands, free, clutch the blanket tight. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

I stare at her. The anger is a fever. The ache to control, to possess, to finally know. I can’t kill it. I don’t know what’s right. I don’t know if I’m saving her or breaking her for good.

“I keep my promises,” I say, rough. “You talk, you get something. That’s the deal.”

She nods, wary, desperate.

I reach behind me and grab the food. An apple, half a sandwich, bottled water. I toss them beside her on the mattress. My hands shake. I can’t look at her. “Eat,” I mutter. “Rest. But don’t get comfortable. We’re not done.”

She snatches the food, shoves a bite in her mouth with shaking hands. I watch her swallow, watch her eyes close in relief. For one second, I hate myself for giving in.

I back away, turn, and leave her alone in the dark. My mind’s a fucking war zone. Nothing makes sense. All I have left is this fire consuming me.

25

LOLA

I wait until the shadows start to stretch, until the cold in my bones is crippling. I’ve stopped crying. There’s nothing left to squeeze out.

I need to escape, I need to get away from here. I don’t like being trapped. I can’t stay here with Brody circling me. He is a beast that has been swallowed, chewed up, then spit out by the boy I love.

It’s heartbreaking.

Finally, the door opens. Brody, no mask this time, just the face I used to trust, carved now with new edges. He stands in the frame, arms crossed.

I swallow down everything I want to scream, and instead let my voice go soft, pleading. “Please, Brody. I need a real bathroom. Just five minutes. I’ll freeze to death if I stay down here. Please.” I don’t know if the tears on my face are real or not, but I let them fall. He stares and I push a little more. “You remember, right? Our first summer together, when you swore you’d always take care of me? When you said I could trust you with anything, even the ugly stuff?” My voice cracks. “I just want to be clean for once. For you. For… for us.”

That does it. The flicker in his eyes. A ghost of the softness I used to know. He sighs, jaw tight, and unlocks my wrist, fingers rough around my arm. “Don’t try anything,” he growls. He leads me up the stairs, his palm heavy at the back of my neck. The hallway is dim. He points me to the bathroom. “Door stays open.”

“I can’t pee with you staring,” I whisper, small. “Just a minute.”

He hesitates, then relents. “One minute.”