“Dom?” she finally asks. Her words are muted by the flow of the water. “If something happens to me, please don’t take it out on my son.” My heart clenches, and my vision blurs. The smile vanishes off my face. “I have money. I’ll do anything-”
“Stop it, Becca. Nothing’s happening to you.” I’m hard with my response, but I don’t fucking like the way she’s talking.
“I’m not stupid, Dom.” Her sad voice carries a heavy weight. “Please just don’t hurt him.” I have to take a deep breath and cover my face with my hands. She thinks I’m gonna hurt her son? I can’t fucking believe it. “We don’t have family, but I have a friend in Texas.” Her voice is tight and full of tension. “It’s been a while, but-”
“Doll. I’m gonna need you to knock it the fuck off before I lose my self-control.” That at least gets her to shut up. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or your son.”
“You’re just going to let me go?”
No. My internal answer is immediate, but I don’t voice that. I don’t know what I want from her. I know I feel like shit about what happened, and that I want to make it right. But that’s all I know for certain. “You can’t go until we have De Luca.”
“Is that who took me?” she asks with a hesitant voice. We don’t talk business with women. They stay out of it. Always. I don’t know what to tell her. She’s just standing still in the shower. The water’s going to get cold fast if she doesn’t hurry her ass up.
“Doll, wash up.” After a moment, she reaches for the body wash. I want her to be at ease; I want her to relax. Letting women know about the business isn’t a smart thing to do. But then again, she’s involved already. “De Luca’s a dead man for what he did to you. I promise you that.”
Becca
I let my eyes close for a moment, just feeling the heat on my skin. Calming, relaxing. I focus on the positive. I breathe in deep and slow. It makes my chest hurt, but I ignore it. My entire body feels like it’s throbbing. The bandages around my ankles and wrists are soaked, and the heat stings my wounds.
Focus on the positive. We’re safe. My eyes pop open. That’s a lie. I’m not safe, and I haven’t the faintest clue if Jax is safe right now. My son is downstairs, supposedly. If I don’t do what Dom wants, I have no reassurance that Jax will be alright. Tears slip from the corners of my eyes. I’m at the mercy of the mob. I need to get us out of here. I need to get away. I can’t believe I let this happen to Jax. I’ve dragged him into this by being careless. By recklessly falling for Dom, for his touch.
Something deep inside me is soothing my worry, telling me it’s alright. Wanting me to believe everything will work out, and that Dom is telling the truth. But I’ve listened to that voice before, and I’ve been fooled. I refuse to listen to it now.
I should’ve called the cops the moment Dom showed up on my doorstep. Instead, I was foolish. Again. I lose all sense of judgment when he looks at me with those sharp lust-filled eyes. But I can’t afford to be weak. Especially not now. I just need a moment to figure something out. There has to be a way out of this. But my mind is blank. They’ll kill me if I run. Either the assholes who fucked me up before, or Dom and his mob.
My heart won’t stop racing. It’s trying to beat out of my chest or climb up my throat. My body shudders, and I realize the water isn’t quite as hot. It doesn’t feel relaxing anymore.
“De Luca’s a dead man for what he did to you. I promise you that.” I hear the threat in Dom’s voice, and it chills me to the bone. I know he saved me, but at what cost? What does he want from me? A shiver runs through my body. I know exactly what he wants. But for how long? How long will that keep me safe?
I hear a faint knock at the bathroom door, and it makes my entire body jump. My blood is coursing with adrenaline, my heart’s racing, and I'm struggling to breathe. I need my medicine.
No, I don’t! I can do this. I’ve done it before. I can get through this. I lean against the tiled wall and try to keep myself from having another panic attack.
“I’ll be right back, doll.”
Dom’s confident voice and use of that little pet name makes my body calm. A sense of ease and peace flows through me. I hold onto that for as long as I can. The door opens and a small gust of chill goes through the room, but then it’s gone. I wait for him to speak. I wait for something. But he doesn’t say anything. I stay in the shower for as long as I can. Until the water has lost nearly all of its heat.
The faucet turns off with a screech, and I peek my head out from behind the curtain.
The room is empty, save a small bit of steam clouding the mirror. He left a fresh towel for me on the bench. I walk out of the stall and quickly wrap it around my body. The bandage on my right wrist is falling. So I slowly and gently unwrap it. And then the rest.
My chest hardens as I look at my body. Quick flashes of memory appear before my eyes and I fold into myself, crumpling onto the floor and bite down the scream threatening to hurl itself from my mouth. A cold sweat forms on my body, and my hands start to shake. My body trembles and rocks. I lie against the tile floor, needing to cool down and focus on my breathing. It’s black. Everything is black. But I can hear them. I think I know what they look like. I see his fist coming for me, and a small whimper escapes.
No!
I will not let this hurt me. I have to be strong. I push it down. I push everything away. It’s only a memory. It’s only a memory. So many times I’ve had to remind myself.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been hurt, and this will not break me. I won’t let them. I grind my teeth and will the anxiety down. Just as the calmness washes through me, I remember the crash. I see the large oak tree. I hear the screeching tires, my mother screaming. I see my father’s arms fly out. One in front of his face, the other to the passenger seat.
My eyes fly open, and I force myself to sit upright. I will not go back. I will not go back there. It won’t be of any use. I should know. Giving into fears and false hopes only makes the pain grow.
I stand up and walk to the sink and countertop. The ointments are waiting for me along with a few Q-tips, courtesy of Dom. At least he seems to be taking care of me. I’ll feel better once he lets me see Jax. I feel hopeless knowing he has the ability to keep Jax away from me right now. He has control over me. I’m not sure he means to use it like that. But it doesn’t change the fact it’s true. I can’t disobey him and risk my son.
A chill goes through my bones, remembering how I said I’d go to the cops. I bend down and gently rub more ointment into the cuts on my ankles. They’re an angry red. Anger is appropriate. I’m angry at myself for being so stupid.
Stupid to say that to a man who holds so much power over me, and power in general. And stupid to be reliving the past. It’s been years since I’ve remembered that night. The night my entire world changed, and the only family I had died. I look down at my wrists and examine the scratches and raw open cuts. This is nothing. This will heal.
Shards of glass cut deeper than rope, and that healed. A sickness grows in my gut; it’s not the physical pain that causes the terrors and anxiety. It’s the memory of when the pain happened. I won’t let them haunt me. I can’t. I can’t go back to being useless, all at the mercy of a memory.