Page 119 of Slaughter

“No.” He growls.

“Was it because …?”

“It’s because you’re not ready,” he interrupts me.

“Who are you to tell me what I feel?” I demand. “I’ve allowed you to control everything I do for three weeks now, but you’re not gonna tell me what I feel!” I shout.

“Oh, you’ve allowed me to have control?” he asks, arching a brow.

“Yes.”

He takes a step toward me. “I never gave you the chance, Bunny.”

My chest tightens because that is true. “You never gave me a chance at anything.”

“What does that mean?” he snaps.

“A chance to explain myself a long time ago.”

He uncrosses his arms and turns toward the door. “Forget it.”

“No!” I shout following him. “You wanna talk. Let’s talk.” I jump in front of him, blocking his way out of the bathroom. “After I was released from the hospital, after your father raped and beat me, I had one voicemail and it was from you.”

“I don’t need—”

“It was from you,” I shout, interrupting him, “telling me that it was over. That Mitch would treat me like the whore I am.” I shake my head as I look at him with disgust. “You never even asked.”

“Bunny …”

“You never fucking asked!” I scream so loud it hurts my own ears. “I knew you loved me. I knew there wasn’t anyone else, but you didn’t even bother to ask me what happened. If I was okay? How I could want to do that to our baby.” My voice breaks. “Do you know what that’s like?” I don’t allow him to answer. “No. You don’t.”

“Want me to say I’m sorry? ’Cause I am.”

“That’s not good enough!” I shout. “Where the hell were you, Avery? Where were you when I needed you?” Tears sting my eyes. “You said you loved me. You said you would always be there for me, but you weren’t.”

“You should have told me!” he shouts, getting angry.

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

His eyes widen, and his lips part. “Of course, I would have.”

I snort. “Now, you’re just lying.”

He takes a step toward me, pressing his body into mine. “I would have believed you. Not one doubt. All you had to do was tell me.”

He makes it sound so simple. As if all I had to do was say hey, your father raped and beat me. I shake my head and wrap my arms around my chest. “I called you, Avery.” His hard eyes soften. “I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I called you. And you had already moved on. And changed your number.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I had to tell someone,” I say softly. “I went and saw a therapist after a year had passed. But I only went once. He asked me what I wore.” His nostrils flare. “He asked me if I led him on. And I started to think maybe I had.”

“It was never your fault, Bunny.” He growls.

“I let you touch me all over that house. We fucked in your pool. The couch. In the media room while we would watch movies. And he told me that he watched us.”

“That still doesn’t make it your fault,” he snaps. “This, right here, is why you still need help.”

“Quit acting like I’m fucking broken.”

He takes a step back from me. “You are,” he shouts. “It’s not hard to figure out that what my father did to you is the reason you drink like a fucking fish. Or why you spread your legs for any guy who looks your way.”

“Fuck you!” I scream.

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