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My thoughts aren’t on Drew or Alyssa and the never-ending search for them. I’m not having flashbacks of what he did to me in my room or our horribly toxic relationship. Because now that I’ve had some distance, I see that that’s exactly what it was; toxic. My mind isn’t constantly being dragged back into the past where visions of flames and evil men destroy me again and again. My body doesn’t burn with the memory of split skin and unwanted touches.
It’s just me, Maddox, and the road.
We hit a curve and Maddox leans into it, taking me with him. My arms tighten a fraction out of instinct, seeking his safety. When did he become that for me? When did Gage? Or Stone and Nyx for that matter? I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am safe with them. I have a connection with each of them. We all click in different but important ways, like puzzle pieces falling into place.
Over the last month, I’ve had to repeatedly remind myself to stop questioning it. To just enjoy this gift for what it is. I’ve had to try to retrain my brain. A brain that has been conditioned to always be waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve had to accept that if shit hits the fan, it does and there is not a thing I can do about it. But I will be damned if I destroy the ride while waiting for it to inevitably end.
The deep connection that I’m finding I have with them comes from the fact that we are made of the same stuff. Each of us is a survivor in our own way. Our families are all torn apart or gone, our childhoods ruined by vicious, callous people, our bodies and minds not our own. We have fought different battles but won the same war. We are soldiers who were thrown into combat before we were big enough to hold a gun. But we are alive, even if we have to carry permanent wounds.
I used to think that mental and physical scars make a person weak. Now, I’m beginning to think that those of us who were forced to burn and somehow survived, also learned to evolve.
And evolution creates warriors.
We pull up outside ofThe Grind, and surprisingly, I’m really fucking sad to have to get off of Madd’s bike. He climbs off first, somehow sliding off with the gracefulness of a dancer despite his long legs, before picking me up and setting me on my wobbly legs. Now that I’m off the bike, I’m realizing how hard I must have been clinging to it. Maddox yanks my helmet off, causing my hair to stand on end but it doesn’t wash away the massive smile on both of our faces.
“So? What did you think?” he asks, sounding about as excited as a kid getting off a rollercoaster. Which I guess it kind of was. I nod my head emphatically, still feeling a little breathless and full of excited butterflies. Maddox chuckles, the sound freer than I’ve heard in a while. Now that I think of it, he hasn’t laughed quite as much since he got back from the Los Diablos job that took him away from me a few days ago.
“So good!” I say a bit louder than intended, making his laugh grow into a cackle.
“Yeah, your ears might be weird for a little while. Go inside and get to work before you’re late. I have to make a call.” Maddox bends down, planting a chaste but sweet kiss on my lips, and then spins my still-frozen body toward the shop and slaps my ass. I shriek out a sound of surprise but it gets me moving.
Walking in through the door to a place I once loved for the first time in over a month feels fucking strange. It used to make me happy to be here. The moment I would walk through the door and see the dilapidated, original brick walls, the old restored wood flooring, and, mismatched furniture, I would instantly feel at home.
Sleeping Sickness-City and Colour
Now, walking in, I see visions of me running from Drew in the parking lot. Him looming over me like a demonic presence, me running in and throwing up until Hunter had to pick me up off the floor. I see myself tied to my bed and bleeding, being assaulted, and almost dying.
All of the memories come flooding into my mind like a big-rig plowing into me.
“This isn’t fucking over Ella. I’m not done with you yet.”
Slap.
“I want to see all of you. You were always so particular about keeping the lights off. Now I see why. Your body is all fucked up, isn’t it?”
Kick.
“I was going to work you up to this, keep you nice and tight for my cock. I was going to stretch your tight cunt with my dick and then fuck your asshole with this monster dildo in your pussy. Stretch you until you fucking snap in two.”
Rip. Tear. Thrust.
Who am I? Say it!
Daddy.
Take off your clothes.
It’s just a bath.
Daddy.
I don’t even realize I’m on the ground until strong arms are wrapping around me and I’m being lifted. I fight against the intrusion,the touch. My stomach revolts and my skin burns where our bodies connect. It’s too much. It’s happening again.
“Isabella, Baby Girl, stop! Stop, please!” the deep voice pleads, his hot breath skittering across my ear, my neck.
“Keep telling me about your day at school, Little Doll,” he says, his hand sliding beneath my shirt. “I’m just helping you relax so you can go back to sleep,” he coos as his hot, putrid vodka-scented breath wafts over my ear.
“Let me touch you.”
