Page 11 of Signed For Him

"Liam, I've been kidnapped, taken away from my family, raped, beaten and forced into sex with no idea of how or even if I'll get home." My voice is surprisingly strong and loud. I almost expected to break down saying all of that out loud, but Liam's face doesn't alter, his face a mask as I watch his Adams apple bolt up and down as he takes in my words.

"You miss them. Crow and Victor. Your dad and that Alice girl. Is that what this is?"

My bravery seems to have no bounds as my eyes roll of their own accord.

"Of course, that's part of it, but it's not just missing them, Liam. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be made or coerced into doing things I don't want to do. I don't want to feel like I'm cheating on anyone. I don't want to have to avoid thinking about them because the moment I do, I feel so guilty and dirty and filled with shame." My eyes become glassy as I continue, determined to be honest with him since I imagine it's the only chance he'll give me to do so.

"I feel like I'm in a never-ending cycle of torture and pleasure and even the pleasure I hate because I know it's just my body reacting and not what I really want. I hate that I find comfort in you even though you're so awful to me. I hate that I'm not reacting to this the way I should. I should be crying every day and trying to find a way out and yet I just act like your 1960s housewife, making you food and cleaning up and waiting for you to demand sex or a blow job and more than any of it, I hate the times when I don't hate it at all because no matter what you do or say to me, there will always be a part of me that treasures and cares for you. I despise the fact that I enjoy you pleasuring me. I hate that I have no idea what I'm thinking from one minute to the next. I don't even know how I feel about being raped because I've not had time to acknowledge it because I feel like I'm constantly in danger. I feel like if I hadn't gone to that stupid party that I wouldn't be here. I want to go home, and yet I dread it too, because I know that I'm going to have to face my dad and Victor and Crow, and I have no idea how I'm going to feel or what I'm going to say because I can't even understand how I feel or what I think, let alone have any idea how to explain it to them." I take a deep breath, feeling as though I hardly let my lungs inhale a good dose of oxygen as I spoke.

I watch Liam process my thoughts as his eyes scan my face, as if in search of something more.

I feel surprisingly better for letting it out. Gray and I have spoken briefly about everything going on but with the fear of being caught talking about something someone doesn't like, we hardly ever get to truly talk about how we're feeling or what we're thinking. I've just admitted more to Liam than I've even admitted to myself since being here.

Liam runs his hand through his hair as he sighs, his hand rubbing against the back of his neck as he looks down, seemingly speechless as I watch and wait patiently. He must have something to say.

"I can't make this better for you, not how I want to. You know that if I don't have you, they will and I won't allow that. But what I can tell you is that none of this is your fault and when you go home, because you will go home, you don't have to tell anyone anything or explain anything to anyone if you don't want to. If they can't accept you while you heal then they don't deserve you at all." His words surprise me. He says them with so much brash honesty and conviction that it very genuinely shocks me.

His hands reach out, hesitating before touching me. He reaches for my jaw, stroking his thumb against my skin as his eyes dart between my eyes and my lips.

"Get to sleep. I'll read," he says, though I'm certain he wants to say more, his face filled with concern and something else that I can't quite place before he stands from his place, tucks me into the covers again, and leaves the room without turning back.

Seven

Charlie

Cottage pie. It's been one of my favourite meals since I was a child and as I portion the meal onto two plates for myself and Liam, I let the familiar smell take me back to a time when Liam and Dad used to argue about who made it best, when there was nothing more complicated or dreadful in my life than my mother not being a part of it. Gray always voted that Dad made it best. I always took Liam’s side. Even though his tasted like roadkill.

I take the plates into the living room, placing them on the table where I've already put the cutlery and our drinks, knowing Liam will be back at any moment. He always returns by 7pm. It feels so wrong to be so easily domesticated for a monster and yet the more time I spend with him, the more he opens up to me and shows me kindness, the more I wonder if maybe I've seen everything that's happened in a light filled with negativity for reasons that aren't all that logical. At every turn, he's tried to protect me, even if his ways haven't been the best.

He's been violent, something I've hated at times and yet craved at others. His domineering presence and demands don't give me time or the emotional and mental time to think or rather overthink as my mind seems to do, and I hate that I like that. I hate that I need his demanding nature to truly allow my mind to be free while submitting to him. I asked Gray if he thought I was submitting to Stockholm syndrome more than I was submitting to Liam, and he simply told me that Liam and the situation we’re in was no more a choice for Liam than it was for us. I wasn’t sure what he meant since he refused to explain further, but it made me wonder if perhaps there was more to the whole thing than I had realised.

As I fold two napkins for each of us, the front door bangs open, the handle hitting the wall behind it as Gray enters, holding up an injured Liam at his side.

My eyes protrude from their resting place as I take in the scene in front of me.

There's blood covering Liam. His head, his neck, his chest. I can't tell where it’s coming from or how bad the injuries are beyond the darkening and deep red that is seemingly everywhere.

"What the hell happened?" I ask as I rush towards them, taking Liam’s other side, his body slumped.

"I'm fine," Liam grunts, his eyes bruising and beginning to discolour as he looks up at me.

"You are the furthest thing from fine, Liam." I tell him as I help Gray bring him towards the sofa.

Liam sits down in a rush, his body pounding down, his blood staining the material beneath him as he puts his head in his hands and his legs spread apart to hold his elbows in place.

I find the first aid kit and ask Gray to get warm water and a flannel from the bathroom as I take out some bandages, not knowing the extent of the damage done to him yet.

"Why did they do this?" I ask, not needing to have it confirmed that it was them. Those in charge of this operation.

Liam says nothing but shakes his head, refusing to answer me as I use the wet flannel to rub away the blood from around his face. The largest of the wounds seems to be a deep cut beneath his eye. I dab at it gently, not wanting to cause him any more pain than what he's already endured.

Gray stands at my side, his menacing silence filing the room.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I ask him pointedly as I continue to clean the blood from a stoic still Liam.

"He wouldn't give you up," Gray says, his voice conveying the same mixed emotions he has towards Liam as I do.

And then his words sink in.

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