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With the other waitresses now back to work, I’d been ordered to take the next four days off. Part of me had wanted to argue that I only needed two, but my feet begged to differ. I really did need the extra time off to recover from all the nights in those damn heels.
Even if I was going to be spending the night in shoes just as high as the ones I worked in. But I was oddly looking forward to it. For the past three weeks, Garret and I had been having dinner after each of my shifts. Seated either on my rug or in my bed, eating whatever takeout I’d asked for that night, watching every episode of Pokémon.
There was nothing romantic about it. He never once tried to touch me in any way that would even suggest he wanted to take things further than just two friends spending a little time together. When he’d made the promise to take things as slow as I was comfortable with, I hadn’t completely trusted him, but he proved himself more and more with each passing day.
Over the last week, I’d found myself sitting closer to him. Each night, the physical distance between us would decrease a little more. The night before, I’d even fallen asleep with my head on his shoulder. I didn’t remember closing my eyes, but when I’d opened them close to sundown, I’d awoken feeling more well rested than I had in forever.
Garret was gone, but there had been a rose on my pillow with a note scrawled in his oddly neat handwriting, reminding me of our plans for dinner.
As I’d lifted the flower to my nose and reread the note, butterflies had started fluttering in my stomach. The petals of the flower had brushed over my lips, and I was instantly transported back to the night he’d kissed me. The memory of his lips on mine as he’d taken his time, being tender at first and then steadily more demanding.
He wouldn’t have known that it was my first kiss. I’d never allowed anyone as close as I’d let Garret. There was no way he could have possibly understood how torn I’d been as sensations I’d never felt before had swarmed me. I hadn’t had a single sexual urge from the first time Manuel had violated me. And for a few moments, frozen in time, I’d been so turned on from Garret’s kiss that I’d felt my sex become wet.
That was when I’d gotten scared, when the shame had hit—along with the fear. The places where he was making ache were the same places my stepbrother would shove painful things into. While I’d felt my panties dampening from Garret’s kiss, it all came back to haunt me…
“Now, the real fun begins,” Manuel said as he stood over me.
I struggled against the cuffs on my wrists, kicking my legs as much as possible in an attempt to release myself from the restraints around my ankles. But the more I moved, the tighter they became.
“That’s it, whore. Keep struggling. Soon, you’ll cut off the blood flow to your hands and feet.” He laughed with glee at the thought as he used the shears to cut off my clothes.
In no time, I was completely naked on his gross bed. The smell of stale alcohol was so strong it nearly made me gag, but that was nothing to the fear making my stomach roil. With my clothes lying in tatters beneath me, Manuel picked up a wedge-shaped cushion and shoved it under my bottom so that the lower half of my body was lifted.
Throwing the shears aside, he grabbed a broom that was lying on the floor and broke the handle across his knee. My gaze clocked his every movement as he walked over to the desk where the lines of coke were already measured out. He snorted two of them before coming back to the bed.
His blown pupils went straight to my exposed bottom, and the grin he gave me nearly made me vomit.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered, so scared I began to shake.
My plea fell on deaf ears, though. He pressed the smooth end of the broken broomstick against my rectum. I screamed as he forced it in. “Please stop! Please, Manuel. I’m sorry. Whatever I did wrong, I’m so sorry!”
“A whore like you can take bigger than this up the ass. Just like your mother.”
Sweat coated my body while tears poured down my face as I tried to breathe through the pain. Closing my eyes, I tried to block everything out. The way he seemed to be getting off on hurting me, the sound of his laughter, the pain that thankfully started to become nothing more than a burning ache.
Suddenly, he pulled the broomstick from my bottom. My eyes snapped open, hoping that the torture was over. But as he tossed the broken wooden handle aside, he picked up one of the empty beer bottles.
One of his knees pressed into the mattress, and he put the tip of the bottle to the entrance of my sex. My scream echoed through the entire mansion as he shoved it inside…
Nausea had swirled around in my stomach, and I couldn’t hide my fear as I’d cried out against Garret’s mouth.
My mouth had felt swollen and I could still taste Garret on my tongue, but all I could think of was the blinding pain. I was thrown back into the moment when I was helpless as my stepbrother had raped me with a beer bottle.
Garret had tasted like the orange chicken he’d been eating, but there had been something beneath the Chinese food, something richer, with a hint of spice. But I couldn’t enjoy it because I was still reliving the way I’d begged Manuel to stop, to please, please, not hurt me anymore.
And he’d only gotten more excited.
The beer bottle had stayed inside me while he’d slapped my face and then punched me in the stomach. Over and over and over again until I’d passed out.
I’d woken up lying in the shower in my bedroom hours later. My entire body was one huge throb. The ache between my legs was nothing compared to the agony of my abdominal pain. Slowly, I’d curled into a ball and just lay on the cold tiles, weeping. No one had come to check on me, and I’d eventually gathered the strength to shower off the blood before limping into my room to dress myself.
The pain was so bad that I’d still been crying silently as I’d snuck out of the house and made my way to a doctor’s office several miles from Matias’s mansion. I was scared I had internal bleeding, but the doctor had X-rayed me and assured me nothing vital was damaged.
He never once asked how I’d gotten the bruises. Everyone in the area knew who I was, who my stepfamily was. They were aware of how often Matias was home, that it was just Manuel and me up at the house. And every single person in a one-hundred-mile radius was just as terrified of him as I was.
So the doctor kept his mouth shut, stitched a few places that needed stitching, and sent me on my way.
It wasn’t the last time I had to see that doctor. And if he’d thought keeping his mouth shut would keep him alive, he’d been wrong. Because the last time I’d needed medical assistance, one of my stepbrother’s men had followed me and called Manuel. He’d shown up just as the doctor was finishing the stitches on the undersides of my breasts where Manuel had taken his blades to me, cackling while I’d sobbed and bled all over his white sheets.
