Page 64 of Possession

There’s movement down the corridor, so I step back into my room. My heart thumps wildly as the sound fills my ears, and when Rafael emerges from his old bedroom, pain steals my breath. What the hell?

He tugs the collar of his shirt to his nose and sniffs at it. “Fuck,” he mutters, and glances around before disappearing into one of the spare rooms.

Nikita appears in the doorway only a moment later, her hair messy and her hand clutching her throat. I know the feeling well, so well.

The lacy suit she wears is see-through, leaving nothing to the imagination. “Go and wash away your sins, Rafael. Go and wash away my touch,” she spits in his direction, and his response is to slam the bedroom door closed.

My footing wavers as I stumble back into the room, pushing my bedroom door as quietly as possible until it clicks shut.

Vomit creeps up my throat as I rush toward the bathroom. I rush to the toilet barely in time to throw up into the bowl. I gag until there’s nothing left, only the sour burning in the back of my throat as my body quakes. Crumpling into a ball on the cold floor, I allow tears to spill freely, each one of them more bitter than the last as devastation racks through me.

He did it.

He made me his whore.

A strangled sob lodges in my throat as tears spill down my face.

He destroyed what we had.

I clutch my hands into my hair and pull. “Why?” I sniffle. “I loved you. I loved you so much, Daddy.”

My vision blurs, so I close my eyes, and yet all I see is her. Her words echo in my head. “Go and wash away your sins, Rafael. Go and wash away my touch.”

Why was I so blind to think this could work? That he was different, more of a man than my father.

And yet, deep down, I always knew I would get hurt. I just refused to accept it.

I’m nothing but his toy to break, and this time, he won’t piece me back together.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ellie

Istraighten my T-shirt and glance in the mirror again, then pull my hair into a slick ponytail. My face is pale and my eyes empty as I stare into the mirror.

When did I become the doll broken beyond repair? He promised to always fix me? Protect me. But he never promised me anything else. He never promised me love, and since learning of his wife, I know he could never promise me a solid place in his family.

“Hey, you look pale. Are you feeling okay?” My eyes dart to his. I wasn’t even aware he’d come into the bedroom, that’s how out of sorts I am.

My morning was a mess of tears, crying for a man I can never have, a boy that will never be mine, and a life that never truly existed.

When I finally pulled myself together, I made a plan.

I need to get as far away from here as possible. Loving him is hurting me, but staying will kill me.

“Ellie, I said, are you feeling okay?” His furrowed gaze flicks over my face. Then he licks his lips and settles his hands on my stomach, forcing me to want to pull away from him and his warmth.

“Do you need a doctor, Little Doll?” His scent invades my nostrils, and as his lips find my neck, his touch pierces my skin, seeping into my bloodstream, and I try to swallow back the hiccup of hurt that builds inside me.

I can’t allow it to escape. I need to remain strong. I need to take back control of my life, a clean break.

“No.” I push away from him and slip on my sneakers.

He turns to face me, watching me as I try to act as calm as possible when inside I’m screaming for him to rescue me from my dark thoughts.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snipes out, then drags a hand through his hair.

“I want some fresh air.” I shrug a shoulder.

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