Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 118592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 593(@200wpm)___ 474(@250wpm)___ 395(@300wpm)
But it was Eli who’d been the trigger for me and I’d often wondered in the weeks that followed if Tristan had known that when he’d asked Eli to stop by that night. Eli hadn’t looked at me with pity or any kind of expectation – he’d looked at me with understanding and acceptance. And I’d remembered his comment to me earlier in the summer about how hard he’d worked to hide the truth about what had happened to him from everyone who loved him. Then I’d remembered my own shame that I hadn’t known…that I hadn’t been able to help take some of his pain away.
It had all hit me at once then. The fact that I’d been raped…not just assaulted. That even though it had in one way been my choice, it really hadn’t been a choice. That I was punishing Memphis and Tristan, even though that hadn’t been my intention. That Drake’s act of violence had stolen so much more from me than my sense of security. His aim had been to destroy Memphis, but he’d destroyed us all in the end. Even though he hadn’t killed us like he’d obviously planned, he’d still torn us from Memphis, from each other.
I’d gone home with Eli that night, though I remember little of what was said or done. I only remembered him lying in bed with me in his and Mav’s guest bedroom, his arms around me, soothing me. In some ways it was better than when I’d spent the first few nights in Memphis’s bed with Tristan, because with Eli I didn’t have to pretend. I didn’t have to try to hide the fact that shame was sliding through my veins and burying itself under my skin until I wanted to claw at every part of my body.
I’d spent two days with Eli before he’d taken me to meet with his therapist. I’d been numb throughout the whole session except for the very beginning when Eli had tried to leave and I’d clung to him and begged him not to go. He’d become my lifeline after that and luckily, he hadn’t had a problem with it. He’d stayed with me whenever someone had come to visit, including my brother and his husband. He’d made sure I’d eaten, drank, showered. He’d held me when I’d cried and watched James Bond movies with me when I’d felt at ease enough to do something besides sleep. After a week, I’d finally found the strength to ask him to take me back to his therapist and I’d told the kind young woman that I needed help. She’d promised me that there would come a day where my life would start to feel like mine again and she’d been right.
That had been four weeks ago and more than five weeks since I’d last seen Tristan and Memphis. Tristan had tried to visit me in the days after I’d gone to Eli’s, but I’d been too raw and ashamed of my behavior and I’d asked Eli to send him away. He’d stopped trying after a week of stopping by every day. And by the time I’d gotten my head on straight again, I’d been worried that it was too late – that I’d destroyed the fragile relationship we’d started to build before Drake had shown up.
And Memphis…
I hadn’t heard from him at all and I hadn’t tried to reach out to him either. It wasn’t because I blamed him for what had happened to me – how could I? There was no way he could have known Drake was still alive, much less protected me and Tristan from him. In fact, I was grateful he’d managed to find us as quickly as he had, because even as Drake had been raping me, I’d felt his hands on my throat, threatening to cut off my oxygen. Whether he’d planned to kill me in that moment or wait until he’d tormented Memphis with more videos, I hadn’t known. All I’d known was Tristan, Tanner and I had faced certain death and we’d been spared because Memphis had found us.
No, my fear in reaching out to Memphis stemmed from one thing and one thing only. The shame.
The bone-deep shame of knowing that every time Memphis looked at me going forward, he’d only see Drake’s cock buried down my throat or him lying on top of me, ramming into me. He’d only hear Drake making me say words that weren’t true. And it wasn’t like they were memories that would eventually fade and be forgotten. No, he had all of it on video. I’d heard Drake send him the first one and I had no doubt he’d watched the second one of Drake actually raping me. I’d seen him torment himself countless times as he’d watched Janie’s video. He’d do the same thing with mine. But besides the video, my physical presence would be a constant reminder to him. He’d ended up sharing me with the one man he hated above all others, even if it hadn’t been my choice. It didn’t change the fact that he would always know that Drake had been inside of me, a part of me for even the briefest of moments.