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That same acceptance with which she submitted to my lashings and fucking filters into her expression. It’s not so much a choice as an understanding that there’s no choice.
“Good girl.”
I bend down to kiss her, tasting the sweetness of her submission as her lips quiver under mine. If I don’t pull away, I’ll take her right here in the lounge, and I still have plenty to say.
“There’s something else you’re going to do for me.” I watch her face carefully as I choose my next words. “You’re going to tell me about the man who raped you.”
Panic flares in her eyes. Her cheeks pale, and her lips part. For a moment, she only stares at me. From her reaction, it’s clear she’s never spoken to anyone about it, not in the healing sense, at least.
“Who have you told?”
She swallows. “It was a long time––”
I pull gently on her hair. “That’s not what I asked. Who did you tell?”
“My–my…no one.”
“Let me rephrase that for you. Who knows or knew?”
“My family.”
“Who in your family?”
“My mom, dad, and my brother.”
“No one else?”
She shakes her head.
“They didn’t make you go to a doctor, the police, a therapist?”
“My mom got me the morning-after pill.”
I already know why. Her family would’ve tried to bury the shame. What I need are details so I can track the fucker down.
“Start by telling me where you were when it happened.”
A sob escapes her throat. “I don’t want to go back there.”
I loosen my fingers in her hair and drag them down the long strands. “I’m here for you, baby. You’re not going through this alone.”
“I can’t do it.”
She tries to get up, but I push her down. If I could find out the truth without putting her through this, I would, but I’m at a dead end.
“You don’t have to go into the details. Think of it as a movie. Look in from the outside. Go back to the scenes and tell me where you were.”
“Gabriel, no.” She gets onto her knees and clutches my thighs. “Please, I beg you.”
I almost falter. Valentina on her knees in front of me, begging, is more than what I can handle, but she needs to heal, or she’ll never be free. The man who stole her virginity will always own a piece of her as long as she keeps it bottled inside, and the fucker doesn’t deserve her peace of mind or pain. I press her face down in my lap, running my fingers through her hair.
Steeling myself, I say in a stern voice, “Start at the beginning.”
She rubs her cheek on my thigh. A big tear rolls from under her long lashes, the wetness penetrating the fabric of my pants. She licks her lips and opens and closes them twice before she gets a word out.
“Mom sent me to take Dad’s dinner. He was working late.”
“Where?”
“At the workshop.”
“Was it dark?”
She thinks for a while. “It was still light. I think it was before six, because it was right after the afternoon sitcom.”
“Good. Carry on.”
She swallows again. “A car pulled up.”
“What kind of car?”
Her whole body goes rigid. “I don’t remember.”
“Don’t feel, baby. Just tell me who drove the car.”
“I–I don’t know. I only know they were old.”
They? She said only one man raped her. “How many?”
“Five. Six. I think six. I was scared. I didn’t want to look at them. I kept my eyes on the ground.”
“Don’t feel.” I brush my thumb over the tears that spill down her cheek. “What did they say?”
“I can’t remember. I don’t think they said much. One grabbed my arm. Daddy’s lunchbox fell on the ground. His sandwiches dropped out. I remember thinking how angry he was going to be if there was sand on them.”
“Go on,” I say when she falls quiet, rubbing my hand up and down her back.
“They laughed. They laughed a lot.”
Anger boils up in me. I feel like breaking something.
“They took me.”
“Where?”
She blinks. “I don’t know.”
“Did they take you by car? Did they make you get inside?”
“No. They dragged me into the building. A bar.”
“Can you remember the name?”
“I didn’t see.”
If she walked, it was not far from where she lived. “Maybe you saw when you went past there later.”
“I never walked that road again.”
“What did the inside look like?”
“It was dark. Smoke. It smelled of cigarette smoke. There was a counter and bar stools, and a neon sign above the mirror, I think. There was a room at the back with a pool table.”
“Were there other people inside?”
“A man behind the bar. I remember him because I screamed for help, but he turned away.”
“What did he look like?”
“Fat. Bald. That–that’s all I remember.”
“You’re doing well, sweetheart. Where did they take you?”
She starts shaking, her frail body trembling between my knees. “The back.”
“It’s a movie. It’s not happening to you. Can you see it?”
