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My throat clogs up as I vaguely remember someone hitting me with a belt. Oddly, I don’t clearly remember the situation, but the memory of the pain is clear.
My eyes trail up the rest of my back, smooth and unblemished until I reach my shoulder. Leaning into the mirror, I inspect the skin and find an oval-looking scar. It takes me a moment to realize that the two crescent scars are a bite mark. As soon as I do, the unwanted memory floods my mind.
“I told you I would have you, Aspen. I promised to take every one of your holes, to mark you, and to make you pay for being such a bitch to me,” Matteo grits into the shell of my ear.
His meaty fingers dig into my hips, holding me in place as he forces his dick inside me. Internally, I scream at him to stop, but the only sound to make it past my clogged throat is a low, pitiful whimper.
“You do have a nice cunt, nice and tight. Though it might not be that way when we’re done with you. Do you think Quinton will want you back once you’re all used up, my cum dripping out of your pussy and ass?”
I try to shake my head, but even that takes too much effort. The drug they gave me doesn’t only fog my mind but keeps my body helpless as well.
“Answer me!” Matteo demands while pounding into me from behind so hard I feel like I’m being ripped in two. “Answer!” he yells again. Doesn’t he know what the drugs are doing to me? I couldn’t answer him even if I wanted to.
Then I feel it, his mouth on my shoulder, his teeth sinking into my skin. Pain burns across my skin. Even in my drugged-up state, I know he is biting deep enough to leave his mark. A permanent scar to remind me of him and what he’s done to me.
The foggy memory slowly fades, and reality sinks in again. I guess he got what he wanted. Tears build behind my eyes, but I blink the moisture away. He doesn’t deserve any more of my tears. None of them do. Not even my parents.
Leaving the bathroom, I enter the bedroom and rummage through the closet to find some comfortable clothing to put on. It’s then that I notice the suitcase sitting in the back of the closet. When I arrived at Corium, I didn’t bother to go through the suitcase, but now that it’s staring me in the eyes, I feel the need to. I’m not even sure what could be in it.
Grabbing the handle on the suitcase, I tug it out of the closet and drag it across the floor. I stare at the suitcase for a long moment. Time has moved at a snail’s pace since I left there.
Every day and night, I find myself thinking of Quinton. We can’t be together, even after all we’ve been through, and I know it’s better for my heart if I pretend he doesn’t exist but looking at this stupid thing takes me back to that night in his bedroom when he told me he’d protect me no matter what.
The aching in my chest makes it hard to breathe, but I force myself to calm down and unzip the suitcase. I flip it open and find a white box sitting on the contents. Curious, I open the box, my fingers trembling. Inside is a brand new iPhone, and I clutch the device to my chest for a moment.
Going without a phone for the last couple of weeks has sucked. I mean, I don’t have anyone to talk to, but that’s beside the point. I press the little button on the side of the phone and wait patiently for the screen to load.
While I wait, I look through the rest of the suitcase and find another box. I pull the lid off, and my heart sinks into my belly. I wasn’t sure what I would find, but I never would’ve guessed it would be Adela’s bracelet. The rose gold bracelet with the intricate charm glitter in the light, and my lips turn up at the sides, the feeling almost foreign.
A tiny piece of paper slips out of the box when I pluck the bracelet out. I grab it out of the air and unfold it as quickly as possible without tangling the bracelet, which isn’t easy.
As soon as the paper is unfolded, I wish I hadn’t opened it all.
She would want you to have this to remind you how strong you are.
-Q
Like a piece of shattered glass, I’ve barely held myself together and the note—the words written on it, and their meaning—send all the fractured pieces of my heart into space.
I take the bracelet and the phone over to the bed, leaving the clothes Quinton’s mom packed me in the suitcase. Putting the bracelet on the nightstand, I collapse down on the bed and ignore the wetness on my cheeks. I’m crying and all because of a note.
