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“What am I doing here? This is my fucking house!” he yelled, making his way over to me. I didn’t cower.
He gripped my hair so hard that I thought he was going to tear it out. Getting right up in my face. He was seething with anger. I’d never seen him so mad.
“You fucking whore,” he gritted out. “You smell like fucking men’s cologne. You stupid, stupid slut!”
He let go of my hair, but I didn’t get a moment to breathe before he punched me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain, but that didn’t stop him. He backhanded me across the face and I crumbled to the ground.
“After everything I have done for you!” He kicked me in the stomach and I finally screamed. Which only made him kick me again, and that time I heard my ribs crack under his boot.
I hated those fucking boots.
I gasped for air, trying to block my body with my arms. He clutched my hair by the nook of my neck and my hands instantly went to where his were, clawing at his fingers. He dragged me by my hair to the kitchen. My legs flailed behind me, trying to gain control to stand up. I didn’t know if I was crying or screaming. I didn’t even know if I was going to live through this.
“Look at the kitchen! Look at this fucking kitchen!”
He slammed my head against the fridge and I immediately saw stars. I vaguely remember him pulling out the drawers and throwing them all around the room.
“You can’t do anything fucking right! The spoons are where the forks are supposed to be, you put the oven mitts and dishtowels in the same goddamn drawer! Why the fuck do I buy you nice things if you can’t keep them organized? Are you fucking stupid? Answer me, you fucking bitch.”
He kicked me in my side again.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered so low he couldn’t hear me.
He grabbed me by the collar of my blouse and slapped me across the cheek, my face whipping back so hard I thought he was going to break my neck.
“Look at me! Fucking look at me, you useless whore!”
“I can’t,” I whimpered, unable to move.
He let go of me and my lifeless body fell to the floor once again.
He crouched down close to my face. “I came home early for you. I do everything for you and this is how you repay me. Spreading your legs to whom, Aubrey? Dylan? That piece of shit who doesn’t love you. I’m the only man who will ever love you, your daddy doesn’t even fucking give a shit about you.”
“Why do you hurt me?” I breathed out between sobs, needing to know. “Why do you hurt me so much?” my voice was only a whisper. I could barely breathe, let alone talk.
“Because I fucking love you. That’s why.”
The next thing I knew he punched me in the face.
Everything. Went. Black.
28
Aubrey
“God, Aubrey, I’ve been so busy with Giselle, I didn’t even realize what was happening to you. I had no idea Jeremy was putting you through Hell. How did I not know this?”
“I kept it a really good secret, Aunt Celeste, but I can’t do it anymore.”
I thought about Dylan the entire way home that night. What he said, how he touched me, how his hands and words affected me, all of it. I hadn’t been touched like that in years. The last man to ever give me an orgasm had been Dylan. Jeremy never took his time with me. Not once was it ever about my needs or me.
In every aspect of our relationship.
Everything Dylan said was right and knowing that he blamed himself for what tore my life apart was too much to take. I didn’t know why I was hurting myself anymore. Nothing made sense.
Everyone had moved on.
Including Dylan.
