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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HAWK
“Will you tell me what happened now?” Her whispered plea makes me cave. Being close to her, knowing she wanted to leave sets me on edge. I don’t want her to go, to leave us, but I also struggle being around her.
“I’ve never told anyone outside of The Fallen about this,” I admit. It’s true, my brothers are the only ones who have ever heard my story. Even then, they’ve never brought it up again. They may have experienced pain, but they both know mine has cut my soul in half. It’s as if a part of me is missing, and I’ll never get it back.
I’m not sure I want it back.
What do you do with something so tainted, so blackened, nothing can cleanse it of the darkness? I’ve believed it my whole life. I’m certain it’s the reason I hate her so much. She’s light. Her fucking name means light. But even she can’t heal me. She can’t fix what her father broke inside me.
“If you don’t feel—”
“The night he came into our house, after he sent you away, you waited in the car,” I tell her. I can see her nodding silently beside me, so I continue. “He saw me, hit me over the head with the butt of the gun. When I was weakened, he bound me to my sister’s desk chair. The fucking thing was tiny, but he managed to get me secure.”
The more I speak, the deeper I dive into the horror of that night, the more my chest tightens. It’s as if a weight is lying on me, holding me down like he did.
“I screamed for him to stop, but he only laughed.” My voice cracks when I recall every single second.
Tears roll down my cheeks as I watch him slice her nightdress. The soft white cotton falling away and her delicate body shaking as he takes in the prize. The sick fucker is going to die. I’m going to make sure of it.
I fight against the bindings holding me in place, but I can’t get free. The thick rope cuts into my arms. I’m pretty sure I’m bleeding, but I don’t care. I need to save her. I need her to be okay.
“You see,” he tells me with satisfaction in his tone. “The idea was to come in and get out,” he says. “But since you decided to fuck up my plans. I’ll make you watch.” He laughs out loud, the sound vibrating through me, as if he’s struck me.
“No! Leave her the fuck alone!”
He ignores my screams. As he gently moves to each corner of her bed. She’s staring at me. Her eyes wide, her mouth parted in sobs of fear. I want to tell her it’s going to be okay, but it’s not. Nothing will ever be okay again.
My folks won’t be home for hours. The girl he sent out isn’t going to call for help. She was here helping him. I don’t know who she is, but they’ll both pay. I don’t care if I have to hurt her too. He leaves Missy and turns toward me. I’d rather have the pain than watch her in agony.
He takes a few steps toward me and stops in front of me. I can see the bulge in his pants which makes my stomach lurch and I recoil from his touch.
“Both boys and girls need to learn how to do things,” he tells me. “Do you want to learn?”
“Fuck you!” My voice is stronger now. If I can keep his attention on me, I can hopefully save Missy. His hand lands on my cheek so swiftly, I didn’t see it coming. The sting of pain slices through every inch of me. The moment I get loose I’m going to make him bleed. I’m going to carve out his fucking intestines.
“Now,” he whispers when he leans in, his mouth close to my ear. “Did you want to watch while I show your sister how good it is to be a woman?”
Bile rises up from my gut, and I choke on the acid as it burns my throat. The putrid flavor spilling from my lips when his big, rough hand lands on my crotch. He attempts to rub me, but my revulsion doesn’t allow my body to betray me.
His free hand grips the back of my head and he forces my face against his zipper. A hiss falls from his lips as tears burn my eyes. I refuse to cry, but everything inside me is filled with pure rage. When I’m angry, I cry.
He continues rubbing me, trying to get me hard. “Don’t you like her smooth, pretty little cunt?” he whispers. “I bet it’s so damn tight. It will feel like a glove sucking you in. Have you thought about it? Mm?”
His ministrations continue. His hand grips me, stroking, getting me to half mast, and I fight it with everything I have. Whatever the fuck is happening to me is wrong. I hate it. I’m broken. Why is this happening to me? Guilt and shame blur together in a whirlwind of agonizing lies. I am not this person. I’m nothing like this monster who’s stolen our home.
