Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Come inside,” she pleads. “You’re tired. You need rest.”
I let her lead me inside, wondering how I lost the hateful fire and instead sought solace in her. She locks the apartment and leads me to her room. Once we reach the dark space, she crouches down to remove my shoes. Then, she unbuckles my jeans. As soon as they hit the floor, she works at pulling off my shirt.
“Come to bed, baby,” she murmurs, taking my hand, urging me to go with her.
Fuck, I’m so tired.
Emotionally drained.
Fading fast.
Like a fucking wussy, I let my fucking girl help me into bed. She covers me up with the blankets and then curls around me like she has the power to hold me together despite my rapid shattering.
I toy with a strand of her hair, scowling into the darkness. “I came here to yell at you.”
“Do you want to yell at me?”
“Not anymore.”
She finds my lips with hers, pressing a soft kiss there. “You can yell later if you feel like it. Sleep now. Let me hold you.”
The last bit of energy dissipates in the air around us. I fade into the darkness, thankful for the reprieve from the anguish. I’m a devilish man with cruel intentions, but instead of acting on them, I let the angel kiss away all the bad.
“Don’t let me go,” I murmur, half asleep.
“Never, Cal. I’m never letting you go.”
Charlotte
Cold.
Empty.
Sad.
I wake with a Cal-sized hole in my chest. He’s gone. I’d hoped he would at least tell me goodbye. Instead, he slipped out soundlessly as though he were nothing more than a dream. My sheets smell like earth and mountain and pine, so I know he was here.
Pulling the pillow he slept on to me, I inhale the fabric and try not to cry. He was so broken last night. I’m responsible for that. I wear it right over my heart like a scarlet letter, warning everyone around me of my crimes.
My phone buzzes with a text and I scramble over to my bedside table, hoping Cal threw me a bone. It makes me feel weak to want the scraps he tosses my way, but I have no choice with Cal. He owns me in ways I don’t understand.
It’s not him.
An unknown number.
My skin crawls as I read the hateful message.
Unknown Number: Everyone knows you’re a whore.
The person sends me a picture of me. I know who took that picture. Ryan Cunningham. My makeup is messy and my eyes are drooping from whatever drug I’m on at the time. What disgusts me is that I’m naked. On my knees. There are other guys in the picture. All of them with their dicks in their hands. The photographer, Ryan, has a grip on my hair, urging me to his dick.
I remember that night.
His friends could look but not touch.
They came on me. In my hair. On my back. My face.
Tears blur the image before me as I remember that night. Disgust sucks the air from my lungs and I gasp desperately for oxygen.
I’m there.
Right there with them.
Feeling them. Hearing them. Tasting Ryan.
Bile creeps up my throat. I want to run away. Or crawl under my bed, hiding forever. Disappear. I want to disappear. I need to forget.
That night I was floating.
A world away.
Lost inside my mind.
I miss that.
“No,” I rasp out.
I don’t miss that.
I fucking hated that.
My fingers shake as I write out a text to Loden.
Me: I need you to ground me.
Lo: Sounds kinky.
A sob escapes me when the unknown number sends another text. I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.
Flipping over to look at the picture, I cringe at what I see. In someone’s hot tub. Full of guys. Naked. Always naked. My eyes are closed in the picture and I’m half sitting in some random guy’s lap. His hand is on my breast. I don’t remember this one.
Fuck.
Another picture.
Not as bad as the rest because you can’t see my face, but I know it’s me. Ryan’s dick inside me. Dried cum smeared all over my stomach. Bruises all over my thighs—ones Ryan put there.
I’m going to be sick.
Another picture.
This one, my skirt is pushed up my thighs as I lie face down over the hood of a police car. My head is lying in a pool of vomit. I don’t remember this one either. I recognize the surroundings as being at Ryan’s house, and that’s most certainly his dad’s squad car.
Unknown Number: You don’t think I have hundreds of these? Keep trying to ignore me. Keep spreading fucking lies. Hard to prove you’re a good girl when I know you’re not.
My phone starts to ring, making me shriek. I toss it on the bed, trembling. Quickly, I scramble to my feet. A cold shower will numb my brain to those terrible images. I strip out of my clothes and take an icy cold shower. It does wonders to take my mind off things. All I can think about is the cold. How it hurts. It just hurts. By the time I climb out, my teeth are chattering and my lips are blue. I pull on a black pair of panties and grab the first shirt I can find. The white fabric hangs just past my ass, but it’s good enough for now. I crawl beneath the covers, seeking refuge. It’s then I work up the courage to read my texts.