Page 113 of Slaughter

“You’re definitely not free, Presleigh.”

“Fuck you!”

He shoves my head into the wall so hard that my vision blurs. Then he pulls me down to my back by my hair, and I no longer cry out. My throat too raw, my body too numb. There’s no reason to fight. Maybe if I give up, he’ll kill me sooner rather than later.

“Bunny?”

I blink, pulling myself out of that memory and look up to see Avery enter the shower. His clothes are gone, but his hands and arms are covered in blood. He places them under the shower, and the water washes them away, letting me know that it wasn’t his.

I look down at my hands, and my throat tightens. I know he got the answers he wanted. Lance is fucking weak. He always was. “I’m sorry.”

He kneels in front of me and places his hand under my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Never apologize.” He growls. “You did nothing wrong, you hear me?”

I say nothing.

“Answer me, Bunny.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He places his forehead on mine and sighs heavily. “I should have been there… I should have tried …”

“Stop,” I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “You were here this time.”

He sighs. “Because I put you there. I’m sorry, Bunny.” He falls to the shower floor and pulls me into his chest. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you. The lies.” I sob. “Never again,” he whispers, holding me tightly.

_______________

It’s been four days since Avery and the guys found me. I look better, and I feel better, but Avery doesn’t see me as such. He still makes me take my pain pills and says that if I stop, it’ll be too late to catch up on them. I don’t argue.

I lie in his big king-size bed. Dark sheets and a dark comforter envelop me, keeping me warm. My body finally feels normal. Almost my own.

I stay silent and lying down when I hear the door to his bedroom open and watch him enter his room. He closes the door behind him and heads straight to the bathroom. There’s no light on, and the sun set hours ago.

I sit up and push the covers off me and open the bathroom door without knocking.

He stands in front of the shower. The door is open, and he’s already turned it on, but he’s still getting undressed. He stops unbuttoning his shirt and looks up at me.

“Bunny. What are you doing awake?” he asks surprised.

I ignore his question and look over his white button-down. It’s covered in blood. And so are his pants and shoes. I know he’s been somewhere in this house with Lance. He’s gone all day and then returns late at night. Just like this. He takes a shower and then crawls in bed next to me. Usually, I pretend to be asleep but not tonight. He doesn’t say much to me since he found out that his father is involved.

“Did you kill him?” I ask, referring to Lance.

“No.”

“Are you going to?” I need to know he won’t come back to hurt me anymore. It’s been four days, and I still feel the threat, especially since he is in the house.

“When I’m done with him,” comes his answer.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. We haven’t talked about what happened while I was gone. And since I never went to a hospital, I never had to tell the police or anyone. What he doesn’t understand is that it’s not hard for me to discuss it. Not with him. Not this time. I need to get it out. I need to talk to someone about it. I’ve allowed what happened to me eleven years ago to eat me alive. Slowly. I won’t allow Victor to do that to me again. “I don’t remember much when I first arrived,” I say, and he tenses. “I was out of it.” His eyes meet mine, and they are void of any emotion. I know it’s taking all his power to mask it for me. “I was placed on a table. My arms and legs tied down with leather straps of some sort.” I swallow, trying to remember. “They injected my arm with something. I was too weak to fight them. I know they sewed up my neck, but I didn’t feel it. I did, however, feel my shorts being pulled down. And then my underwear was cut away.” The anger he tries to hold back seeps out through his burning eyes. “I felt fingers.” My brows pull together. “They were wearing gloves. He said he needed to check me …”

“Enough!” he snaps and starts to button his shirt back.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going back down there,” he growls.

I’m guessing he is referring to the cellar, but I don’t want him to leave me. He’s been so distant since he found out about what his father did. And we haven’t discussed anything regarding this Damon guy or my brother. He’s here but not really. He stays in this angry place all the time. “Don’t,” I say, stepping up to him and placing my hands on his chest. The blood doesn’t bother me. He’s making them pay for what they did to me. To us.

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