When I decided to leave Edward, I was terrified. There was no way around it, but every fear I’d had was writhing under my skin. I considered taking a knife to my arms to let my fears bleed out.
Everything had changed. Nothing I could do appeased Edward since I’d started helping him. I flinched too much. I didn’t smile right. My tears fell too often.
I wanted to die. They were luckier. They were free . . . and I was never going to be free. Several years had passed. I was still his. I started out a girlfriend, a wife, and I’d been his victim for years. I had so many scars that I couldn’t remember all of the reasons. I couldn’t remember all of the things I’d survived or seen or done.
The others he brought here were only here a few days or maybe weeks. I’d endured his fists and knives and . . . other pains . . . for years. Not even the drugs he gave me to make me sleep or hurt less were enough.
I couldn’t continue to live like this, and he refused to let me die. The others got to die. They got to be free. Sometimes, I set them free. And I envied the dead.
After the only time I tried to kill myself, he was in the sort of rage I didn’t think would end. Several women died. One every few days. It was only the beginning of my punishment.
I needed to try to escape. Even if he caught me and finally killed me. That, at least, was freedom.
“Do you like me?” I asked Buddy as he drove me home from the store one night.
He drove me places more and more since Thanksgiving the year before. I think Edward began to trust him when he didn’t act different after raping me. I trusted him too, but because I saw what Edward missed: Buddy liked me. He liked me more than anyone had for a very long time—and that was how I could get out of Edward’s house.
Buddy glanced over at me. “Sure, Tess.”
“But really, do you like me?”
“What do you mean?” He refused to look away from the wheel this time. That alone told me to keep going.
“If I were a good woman for you, a really good woman, would you help me?”
Without a word, Buddy pulled his truck to the side of the road, cut off the engine, and turned to stare at me. “What’s going on?”
“I’m afraid of him.”
“Now? Now, you’re afraid?”
“Yes. Now.”
“Christ.” Buddy looked away again, staring out the front window. “Do I even want to know what he did to scare you?”
The truck stayed silent. The only sounds were the passing of other cars. I’ve been in silent spaces often enough that waiting isn’t hard for me. But quiet wasn’t enough--I had to make him want to help me, so I reached out and put my hand on his thigh.
“Tess . . .” His voice was filled with fear.
I ignored it and slid my hand up his thigh until my fingertips brushed his sudden erection. “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”
“He might kill me if I touched you without permission. You’re his, Tess.” He watched my hand as I stroked him through his jeans.
“What if I told you that I loved you?”
He jerked his gaze from my hand to my face. “You . . . no.”
But I heard the hope. Edward taught me better than I’d realized. In Buddy’s voice, I heard exactly what I needed to make him help me. “I do. Sometimes at night, I close my eyes and imagine that you’re the one touching me.”
He swallowed visibly. His hands clenched on the steering wheel. I tried not to think about what Edward would do when he found out. He’d kill his brother. He’d kill me.
“Do you think about it?”
He nodded. He looked so guilty that I’d feel bad if I had the time for that sort of thing. I don’t. Edward would kill me if I didn’t get away. I didn’t like Buddy. In some ways, he was as much of a monster as Edward. Buddy had hidden the bodies. He’d known I was there, that they were there, and he did nothing.
He raped me.
“Tell me what you think.”
He stared straight ahead. “I think about being the one who’s naked and trapped and you . . . you do it. I can’t stop you. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault, so he won’t kill me for it.”
“Do I kiss you?”
“Never. That would be wrong.”
“Edward’s away working tonight.”
Buddy glanced at me.
If I was going to convince him to risk death, I needed to deliver the fantasy. “You could record it. That way you’d have it to watch whenever you want. You’d have all the power. Anything you wanted me to do I’d have to do because you’d have the proof. Not like he does with the other women. You’re better than him. He scares them, makes them do things with pain. You wouldn’t need that. I’d be afraid, just because you had the recording.”
For a moment, Buddy was silent, and I could see the debate in his eyes.
“Edward wouldn’t let anyone hurt me when I was little. He kept me safe. Marie too, and after Marie . . . after we lost her, Edward's parents had to die. They weren't to touch Marie or me. They weren't to let anyone touch us or make us touch the men that came to the house. Edward and William did the bad things, but they were the parents' kids. Me and Marie . . . we were Edward's kids. He did the things they made him do, and his mom had us. He did all the things as long as we were safe. "
Buddy looked at me. He didn't tell the rest, the details. I didn't need to know. What I did know then was that Edward wasn't Buddy's brother. Edward was Buddy’s father—and his half-brother, too.
I couldn't react. I couldn't say anything.
"They were bad people," I told Buddy. "Edward's parents. They were bad."
He nodded. "Edward warned them. They let someone hurt Marie, and she was his . . . daughter. He loved her. He loves me, too. They let someone hurt Marie, and then they died.” Buddy held my gaze. “Edward raised me. Him and William. We were all together after Edward killed his parents. He kept me safe. I know what he does is wrong, but he’s my whole family, Tess.”
The possibility of guilt returned, but the fear of dying was stronger.
“He loves you,” I said. “I know that. Maybe you could call him and ask if you can. He might even say yes. He let you have sex with me before. He wants you to be happy, right?”
Buddy shivered. “I don’t know.”
“Okay . . . if you don’t want to ask, we can keep it our secret. You’ll have the proof if you ever want to tell him though.” I pause and add, “You’re special to him. He wouldn’t be angry if you explained. You know that, don’t you? I’ve seen it. You’re his son. No wonder he wanted you to have me on Thanksgiving.”
The things I’m saying are the sort of lies that make sense to Buddy. He raped me once. At his father-brother’s order. He liked it. What a fucked up mess they were!
Instead of answering, Buddy started the truck and drove to a motel. Inside, he locked the door.
He stripped and watched me, so I followed his lead and did the same. Once we were both naked, he walked past me and into the motel bathroom. “Come on.”
I wanted to be surprised that Buddy was peculiar about bathing, too. I wasn't. We’re all tainted by the lives we’ve lived.