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“He was there.”
Nate shakes his head. “No, we searched the whole house. He was gone. The boys found him a few streets away. He was living in his car, watching the whole thing on his phone.”
“Watching?” I question as that part comes back to me. “The camera.”
“Yeah, the camera,” he sighs. “I took it with me. There was enough evidence on that thing to put all of them away.”
“What do you mean?”
“This wasn’t the first time they’ve done this,” he tells me, making my stomach roll. “There were three other recordings. Each girl had been drugged and eventually gang raped. We just got you in time before it got to that point.”
Before that point? What does that even mean? What point was it that they did get up to? Was I touched? Was I violated by someone or someones? How many people were there? What are their names? What kind of torture did I narrowly escape?
But most of all, who were these girls and are they ok now?
“I want to see it,” I tell him.
Nate shakes his head.
“Damn it, Nate. I want to see what they did to me. I need to remember. I can’t have all these unanswered questions in my head. I need to know so I can forget about it and move on.”
“No,” he says. “It’s… just no. The police have it now. I’ll tell you anything you need to know, just don’t. Please. I don’t want you watching it.”
“Why?” I cry. “What did they do to me that’s so awful?”
Nate hangs his head and I can tell the images passing through his mind are hard for him to cope with, but I need this. I need to know what was done to me. He lets out a pained sigh. “When I walked in there, your clothes were ripped from your body. You were in your bra and undies and they were ripped too. You have hickey’s covering you from head to toe. You were at the point of passing out with guys rubbing their dicks up against you… Do I need to keep going?”
“Yes,” I tell him.
“Someone had his hand between your legs while someone else was digging his fingers under your bra. You were stumbling. Your eyes were closed. Breathing erratically. Yet not one of them gave a shit if you were ok. You were a tool used to get them off,” he lets out a deep sigh. “The guy with his hands between your legs got a broken nose while the other one is down the hall with three broken ribs.”
I nod my head against his chest, letting him know it’s ok to stop. I get his point. He’s willing to answer my questions but the fact of the matter is, I’m not going to like a single answer. “I don’t need to hear anymore,” I tell him.
He squeezes my hand and I want to hate myself for putting him through that. “What happened when the boys found Josh?”
“What do you think happened?”
“They beat the shit out of him.”
“Mmhmm,” he murmurs. “It was more than that, though. They found Heroin and GHB in his car, so they handed him in and he’s being charged with possession. With the amount he had, I’m sure they can get him on intent to sell.”
“He told me the guys pay big money for the shit he gave me.”
“Of course, he did,” Nate scoffs, rolling his eyes. “He’s so fucking cocky, he thinks he can get away with it.”
“He won’t. Not this time.”
“Will you give the police a statement?” he asks.
I nod my head. “You know I will.”
He holds me tighter. “We have Josh good already, but your statement will help. The guys that touched you are going down for rape and possession, but you could link Josh to the rapes. He took you off the street, drugged you without consent, and gave you up to them knowing what they were going to do. We will destroy him.”
His use of words has a certain conversation coming back to me. Destroy. That’s what Josh had said to me and he wasn’t wrong. What he did to me did destroy Nate, I can see it in the defeated way he holds himself. He’s crushed that this happened, but I won’t dare tell him that Josh did all this just to get back at him. I couldn’t do that to him. Knowing that I got hurt because of a vendetta someone had against him really would destroy him, in every sense of the word.
I won’t tell him any of the details of how Josh took me off the street either. That’s also something I couldn’t stand him knowing. Hell, I’m sure if he did, he’d barge his way into Josh’s holding cell and beat him until he takes his final breath.
I run my thumb over his bloodied knuckles, knowing that they’re only this way because of his desperate attempt to save me from their clutches. “Did you get in trouble?” I ask, overwhelmed with just how far this man would go to protect me.
