“Sweetheart, your memory is wrong. We screwed around a bit, but that’s not what happened in the woods.”
Her eyes look to the wall and then back to me. Her hand raises to her throat. “Did you hurt me?” As she asks, her eyes drift to the faint marks on her wrists, and her eyes widen.
“It’s not what you think.” I try to keep my voice even, but my skin is on fire and I can feel their eyes boring into me, thinking I hurt her.
“No, we didn’t. I know we didn’t. This morning was the first time.” Her voice is small as she stares at her wrists and then closes her eyes.
“That’s right we didn’t. I wouldn’t fuck you when you were like that.”
She raises her eyes to mine. “But you did hurt me. I remember. I remember you, and I remember them. You were angry with me.”
Her breath comes in shallow pants and then she looks behind me at Pops and Tommy. She hesitantly steps closer to me, but then looks at the door. “Please let me go. I won’t say anything.” Her small hand settles on my chest and her eyes plead with me. “Please.”
“I can’t let that happen, sweetheart.” It fucking kills me to say it. I see Tommy leave the room, but my father stays.
“I won’t say anything. I don’t know what to think. I’m not okay,” she says.
“No, you’re not okay,” I answer back. Truer words have never been said.
She swallows thickly and then looks back at the door again with tears running down her cheeks. “I’m scared, Vince.” She’s huddling next to me like I’m going to save her.
I tell her the only thing I can think of to say. “You should be.”
Elle
“I don't want to hurt you, sweetheart. I don't want to, but I will.” I hear Vince’s cold, hard voice in my head over and over again. A chill washes through my body. I push my body into his chest as though it will make it go away. I don’t know what’s real. My mind is fucking with me.
Flashes of scenes play before my eyes. His handsome smile as he introduces himself to me. “I’m Vince.” The heated look in his eyes as he looks up at me from between my legs. But then, there’s more. More that I didn’t remember this morning. Him choking me, pinning me against the wall. Then his cousin and another man. Smaller in size than Vince, but both with threatening looks on their faces. It makes my heart skip a beat.
“Vince, what happened?” I whisper into his chest, afraid to know the answer. But I need something. Something is very, very wrong.
“I can’t tell you, sweetheart.” His calm voice forces a sob up my throat.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I beg him. I know he will though. I can sense it in the thick air, in the way they all looked at me. I’m answered with silence. “I’m not supposed to remember, am I?”
“I’m sorry, Elle.” His words are more sad than anything else. He’s truly remorseful, and that makes me sick to my stomach. He doesn’t have to hurt me.
I push the words through my hollow chest. “I promise--”
He cuts me off. “That’s not good enough.”
“What can I do? Please,” I cry into his shirt and drop the book to the floor. I was just with him this morning. “Please, Vince. I swear.”
I feel a strong hand on my back and Vince turns his body, taking me with him and pushing my back against the wall.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” he growls above my head, looking over his shoulder.
My body stills with fear and I can’t breathe.
“No one touches her!” he screams above my head.
I grip onto his shirt tighter. He’ll save me. He has to save me.
He grips my hip and throws the front door open. “Vince, what are you doing?” It’s his father’s voice.
“I’m taking her to the cabin.” I nearly trip trying to keep up with him. Everything flies past me in a blur from the tears and from how quickly he moves my body outside to his car.
And then he opens the trunk. My feet dig into the ground, and I try to push away from him, but he picks me up and tosses me in like I weigh nothing. My head bangs against the floor of the trunk and I scream out. When I open my eyes, I see his hard gaze.
“None of that, sweetheart. Be a good girl and stay quiet.” I don’t dare disobey him. I know he’s my only hope.
Elle
The entire car ride, I’m silent. I close my eyes and try to remember. I think I remember being here before, being tied up. My fingers graze over the faint marks on my wrists. I’m quiet. I’ll do as he says for now, but I know that will only get me so far. How the fuck did this happen? I concentrate on breathing and then I remember about a secret latch in the trunk. Well, not secret. But there’s a latch in here somewhere. My hands run along every surface looking for it. But there’s nothing. I spend the entire ride looking for it, only to come up short.
My breathing hitches the longer the car stays still. My body jolts as the car door slams. A whimper escapes me and I cover my mouth. The light burns my eyes as he opens the trunk. It’s not that bright, but compared to the darkness in the trunk, it kills my sight. He reaches in and picks me up easily by my waist. I cower under his touch as he sets me down. My feet land softly, and that’s when I remember. Like deja vu.
I remember running.
My eyes follow the path I took. I remember his hard body knocking me to the ground. And then I have flashes of memories of him pounding into me, both of us naked as he ruts between my legs, pushing my body into the dirt.
As if reading my mind, Vince growls out, “I didn’t.” His tone is defensive and hard. I swallow the lump growing in my throat. I know he didn’t. I would have felt it this morning. But I remember it. Why do I remember it happening that way? More importantly, why did he want me to forget?
“I know.” The words catch in my throat and come out much higher than I intended. I clear my throat and cross my arms to grip my shoulders. “I don’t understand, Vince.”
He takes a deep breath, but doesn’t meet my eyes. “You need to go inside, Elle.”
I look at the house. It's the same country home I thought was so cute this morning, but as I look at it now, fear makes my legs collapse. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I can’t go in there. In the movies, a secluded place like this is where they kill you. No one will hear me scream. My body begs me to run.
Vince grips my elbow and leans into my neck. His hot breath sends chills down my shoulder and back as he warns, “Don’t you fucking dare run from me.”
A whimper escapes my lips. He pulls me toward the house and I move with him. This has happened before, and I was still alive this morning despite everything. Maybe it will happen again.
“Will I forget in the morning?” I can only hope I will.
“No.” He swings the front door open as the hope dies in my chest. “It didn’t work.”
“I don’t understand,” I plead.
“Stop whining!” he yells at me as I walk inside with him. His anger forces me to rip my arm from his grasp, but it's a clumsy, uncontrolled motion, and my back slams against the wall just inside the door. My hands cover my mouth and I try to stifle the need to cry.