AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Why did I like it?
What the hell was wrong with me for wanting more?
Once he’d disappeared, Avery shattered the silence. “What the hell just happened?” she choked out.
My heart felt heavy, my body numb. “Call Laura,” I murmured. “We have a lot to discuss.”
CLOVER
In the dim lighting of Laura’s living room, I sank deeper into the cushions of the couch, my best friend on one side, my sister Avery on the other. The recounting of my story echoed hollowly in the quiet room. I’d just revealed the truth, Declan’s brutal act of retaliation against my attackers, his strange, possessive claim over me. The silence was heavy, their faces pale and drawn in shock and fear.
“Clover,” Laura said, her voice a frail whisper, “I can’t . . . I can’t begin to understand what you went through.”
I shook my head, words caught in my throat. I was still grappling with the terror of the incident, the grotesque rape. The fear was still so tangible, so close.
Avery’s knuckles whitened, her hand clenched into a fist. “Declan’s off his rocker, but I wish I’d been there, could have given them what they deserved—”
“I think Declan did that,” I replied, my voice a hoarse whisper. I tried to shrug off the cold sensation skittering along my senses. The brutality of Declan’s actions and my strange, conflicting emotions were a storm inside me.
Laura’s response was a quiet nod. She was tough, always had been. Avery, though younger than me, had the same fierce protective streak. I knew I could trust them with my fears, my secrets. But could I trust them with the impossible situation we were now entangled in?
Laura broke the silence again. “What do you need, Clover? How can we help?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I confessed, my voice barely a whisper. I should have been in mourning, healing, not succumbing to Declan’s touch like a moth to a flame. His cruelty was undeniable, but my body sang a different tune. The memory of pleasure clouded my judgment, leaving me in a state of tumultuous confusion.
Avery’s gaze hardened, her eyes darting toward me. “Clover, you . . . you didn’t . . . this morning . . . with Declan . . . he didn’t . . .”
I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat. “No, he didn’t hurt me. But he . . . we . . .” My voice trailed off. How could I explain the irrational pleasure in the wake of such horror?
My mind was a whirlwind of tormenting images and emotions. Feeling a need to speak, to voice the terror I’d been bottling up, I took a deep breath.
“That night . . . it was . . . it was so awful,” I began, my voice shaky. “James . . . he took me in my tent. I was so scared, more than I’ve ever been.”
Avery reached out, her hand grasping mine in a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to share if you’re not ready, Clover.”
“No, I need to,” I insisted. “I need to face it, not hide from it.”
Laura nodded in understanding. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, Clover.”
With another deep breath, I dove into the memory. “I barely managed to escape . . . I was naked from the waist down, bruised and terrified. All I could think of was reaching safety. I rode Ginny bareback all the way to Declan’s.”
Avery’s face paled at my recounting, her hand tightening around mine. “Jesus, Clover . . . That’s . . . that’s just . . .”
“I was horrified, Avery,” I admitted. “Every shadow, every rustle . . . I thought they were behind me. Chasing me.”
“And then you got to Declan’s . . . ,” Laura prompted, a question unspoken in her words.
I nodded. “Yes, and he . . . he took care of me. Despite his own violence, he was gentle with me. Protective.”
The room fell silent again as I finished my story, my emotions poured out in a hushed whisper. Both Laura and Avery seemed to be processing my words, their eyes reflecting a mix of anger, fear, and profound sadness. But, amidst those feelings, I also saw determination—a promise to support me, to help me navigate this storm. Despite the horror of the situation, I wasn’t alone.
Avery was quiet, staring at her tightly clenched hands in her lap. Her fingers were knotted together, her knuckles pale. There was a tension in her, a restlessness that contrasted with the stillness of the room.
Finally, she spoke, her voice so quiet that it barely disturbed the silence. “I feel . . . I feel like it’s my fault.”
Laura and I turned to look at her, surprise written on our faces. “Avery . . . ,” Laura began, her tone gentle.
But Avery cut her off, her words coming out in a rush. “If I could’ve done more, if I could’ve helped . . . you wouldn’t have had to work so hard, Clover. You wouldn’t have had to take that job.”
