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“It is a universally recognized lie that well-behaved women rarely make history. In fact, it is only by behaving in ways that the men who write our history books approve of that they do. I’ve heard it said that The Jezebel is a voice for those of us who want to set the record straight and know that the person listening believes them. Tell me the truth that’s so inconvenient, you’ve been forced to rewrite it. Release the ache of your untold story. Let’s make herstory, together.”
There are three dozen episodes. The first one six months ago, around the time I sent her the book and my letters.
The first episode is titled: He Called it Revenge.
With my heart in my throat, I pop my earbuds in, click the link and start listening.
By the time I’m on the last episode, the sun has come up and my world view has been turned inside out. I’m afraid I’m going to be sick. My stomach heaves and my blood feels like it’s been set on fire. I’m sweating from the effort it’s taking to sit still.
Not just because no
w I know what happened to her the summer after her Freshman year. The other stories I heard and the assumptions and premises they’ve challenged me to question.
Tyson only knows half of what is wrong with Regan. Now that I know everything, I don’t blame her for wanting distance to figure it all out.
I only wish her grandfather was still alive so I could kill him myself.
How could he have done those things to her?
Even through these new lenses, one thing remains true. I wasn’t wrong all those years ago when I thought Regan was magic personified. My woman’s blood is tinged with mercury. Her spine is fortified by steel, her mind is wondrous, and her heart is a boundless bounty, and I love her without any condition.
And even though she’s proven herself more than capable, I won’t let her carry this load alone for one more day.
From the day she put her arms around me, meeting my fury with her gentle words and safe sanctuary, she started shaping me. When I saw her last, I swore that one day, she’d be mine. Since then, every decision I’ve made has been influenced by that goal.
Thank God that the struggles of my youth were a whetstone for my character, my confidence, and my tenacity. Regan’s walls are up so high, I’ll need all of them in spades to get over them.
I shut the computer down, walk back to the bedroom and crawl into bed with her. I draw her warm, sweet smelling body against my chest and close my eyes and let my mind shut down so I can get some rest, too.
Because when she wakes up, her ass will be mine.
17 Years Earlier
PALESTINE, EAST TEXAS
He called it revenge
Regan
“Right this way, ladies,” one of the men from the truck says.
“Hey, let me go, asshole,” Jack screams.
“What’s going on?” I swivel around to see what’s happening, but a rough pair of hands grab me and start pulling me toward the door. My heart is beating so fast and so hard, I’m afraid I’m going to pass out.
“Shut up and keep walking,” a man growls and tightens his already punishing grip on my arm. He drags me through the yard, and I stumble, my heels sticking in the mud, twisting my ankles, as I scrabble to keep up with the man.
It’s pitch black, and the cabin is completely surrounded by trees that soar, so high, that I can’t see the tops of them.
The front door of the cabin swings open, and Weston steps out. “You made it, Princess, and you brought friends.”
His expression is twisted in a grin that is so cruel and excited that it makes my blood run cold. I stop and start trying to scurry backward.
“No, you can’t take us in there,” I yell, as I try to dig my bare feet into the ground. I claw at the hand around my arm, screaming for Matty and Jack. Why are they suddenly so quiet?
The man lifts me, hoisting me over his shoulder, and carries me into the house. Panic is all I know, as he walks through a sparsely furnished living room. The wall-mounted tv is tuned to something loud, but he’s moving too fast for me to see anything clearly. My feet and fists strike his back and torso, but he doesn’t seem to feel it.
Tears run down my face and into my open mouth, choking my screams and filling me with a terror more visceral than anything I’ve ever known.
