Page 93 of The Devil’s Lair

Somebody help me.

“Oh, God, Tobias.” Rebecca sinks to her knees beside me, keeping her distance. “It’s me. It’s just me. I’ve got you. I’m here for you.”

Blindly, I reach for her. “Fuck, Wren,” I mutter.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

In her arms, the memories surge, once again, tearing through the walls my mind must have built to protect me. There’s no protecting me from them now. They’re coming too fast. Bile crawls up my throat, but this time, I swallow it.

“She—” My voice fractures. “She’s the one. She touched me. He watched.” I pull out of Wren’s embrace and hug my knees again. “God, he watched and directed her like it was a fucking movie. She said I was special, that it was our secret.” Revulsion retreats, and in its place is a roaring anger, a violent rage I can’t contain. “They said bad things would happen to me, to my siblings, to my dad if I said anything, so I didn’t. I kept it to myself. Why didn’t I remember until now? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with you.” Tears run down Rebecca’s face. She pushes up onto her knees and cups my cheeks. “You listen to me. You’re perfect. They’re the broken ones. They’re the evil ones, not you. God, you were a child.” Her voice cracks. A storm builds in her eyes. Anger. The same anger that’s raging through my veins.

A shudder racks my body. “I want to confront them.” Those bastards cannot get away with what they put me through. I won’t fucking let them. Christ, what they did to me was two decades ago. Twenty years. How many kids’ lives have they ruined in that time? I can’t bear to think of it.

“I’ll be right by your side.”

“Don’t tell my family. Please. I couldn’t bear them to know.” I can carry the weight of shame but not their pity. To them, I’m the funny, carefree one, and although I’ve let the mask slip with Rebecca, I don’t plan to do that with them.

“I would never betray your trust like that.”

“I need to get off this floor.”

I push to my feet, my legs still wobbly, but I help Rebecca up, and we trudge into the living room. I just about make it to the couch. I’m so fucking tired, I could sleep for a week. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes.

“Do you want me to go?”

My eyes shoot open. I grab her hand. “No, stay, please.”

“Okay.” She sits next to me, and I rest my head on her shoulder, soaking up her strength when it should be the other way around. Christ, I’m such a fucking loser.

Time passes. We sit in silence, but her mere presence brings me the comfort I crave. I have to figure this out, to somehow heal myself so I can be the husband Rebecca deserves. A real husband who doesn’t puke at the thought of intimacy. If she can move past the vile things that were done to her and take a chance on a new start, surely I can, too.

I’ll need therapy, I realize that now, and knowing why I’m the way I am is the starting point I was searching for. But before I can commit to that, I intend to confront the people who stole my innocence. Maybe then, and with professional help, I can find a way back to the man I’ve always wished I was. A complete person rather than this fractured chameleon who plays a part for the outside world, too afraid to take off the mask and let people see his pain.

A sudden realization makes me sit up straight, jostling Rebecca in the process. “Sorry, but something just occurred to me.”

She’s instantly attentive, intrigued. “What?”

“Do you think this is why I like to watch? Why The Lair is so important to me?”

She bites the inside of her cheek and takes her time answering. “Maybe. Perhaps it was your way of assuming control like her husband did when he watched her with you. Instead of the victim, you were the one calling the shots, and in an environment you created.”

“Yeah, that sounds… plausible.” I sink back against the couch again. “It explains a lot. Something else to raise in therapy.”

Her eyebrows flicker. “You’ve decided, then?”

“I don’t think I have a choice now. I see how it’s helped you and Isla. It’s worth a try, right?”

“Absolutely.” Her phone buzzes and she glances at it. “Isla and Vicky are back.”

“You should go. Isla will want to know where you are.”

She grimaces. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’ll be okay. A bit of time on my own to comb through everything that’s happened is probably a good idea.”

“If you’re sure.” When I nod, she stands. “I’m right down the hall if you need anything.”