Page 120 of Slaughter

“It’s true, and you know it,” he says coldly.

I slap him across the face so hard the sound bounces off the walls. When his eyes come back to mine, they don’t have the normal rage I see after putting my hands on him. Instead, they are soft. “Bunny, I just want to help you …”

“Quit calling me that! I’m no longer you’re Bunny, remember? I’m your slave,” I shout until my lungs hurt.

“You know that’s not true,” he says softly.

I slap him again.

“I know what you’re doing, but it’s not gonna work,” he says, shaking his head.

I slap him again. And then again. “Fucking hit me back,” I demand.

“No.”

Tears run down my face, and my body physically shakes with need. I fucking cut myself open and bled for him, and he’s giving me nothing in return.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, reaching out and wiping away the tears from my face. And it makes my knees shake with nervousness at the look in his eyes. He’s gone soft. He’ll never look at me the same. To him, I’m ruined. “I don’t want to be like them.”

A sob bubbles up, but I swallow it down.

“I love you, Bunny. I always have and always will. I can’t see you in pain anymore.” He leans in, gently kissing my forehead, and turns to walk out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

AVERY

“HAVE YOU EVER FELT LIKE you were trapped in a nightmare?” she asks me.

I stop and turn to face her. Tears run down her beautiful face, and it makes my chest tighten at what he has done to her. “No.” Yes, when you left me I did. But I can’t tell her that now. Not after what I found out.

“Do you know what it feels like to shower and still feel dirty?” she continues.

“No,” I answer, not knowing where she is going with this.

“Or how you can’t stand to look in a mirror because you can’t stand the sight of yourself?” She doesn’t let me answer. “I had a nose job because he broke it. I had my boobs done because I wanted to be different. Feel different.” She closes her eyes and sighs. “I quit highlighting my hair and grew it out. I wanted to be anyone but me. Because there was nothing left. I had panic attacks. The drugs and alcohol helped. They made life tolerable.” She licks her lips. “You’re right,” she says, dropping her eyes to the floor in shame. “I did drink a lot, needing the liquid courage to allow men to touch me.” Her eyes meet mine again, and I want to pull her into my arms and hold her, but I don’t.

“I needed to prove to myself that he hadn’t ruined my life. That I could still be loved. Wanted.” She wraps her arms around herself. “I could still feel him on top of me. I could still feel his breath on my neck. I could still smell his scent on me.” Tears stream down her face. “But none of them took away the pain. The memories.” She sobs. “Until you walked back into my life and things were different. You erased it away and made me feel like me again. And then he shows up again. And everything comes back like a fucking wave. And I’m drowning. I need you, Avery, and once again, you walk away.”

“Bunny, it’s not because of what you went through.”

“Then what is it?” she asks, arms out wide. “Because you look at me like I’m a used-up whore.”

“I don’t see you that way.” How could she possibly think that? I see her as a strong woman who survived something horrific. And the sad part is that she went through it all on her own.

“You make me feel that way. Just like he did.” She sniffs, and I flinch at her words. “He took me into your bedroom and threw me onto the bed.” My jaw tightens. “I screamed for you. I yelled for you to help me.” Angry tears come to her eyes. “But you weren’t there. He placed his hand over my mouth and then pinched my nose closed with his fingers. I couldn’t breathe.”

“Bunny …” I swallow, “I don’t need …”

“I had to fucking live it!” she shouts. “You can fucking listen to it. He ripped my shorts down my legs with his free hand and fucked me! Telling me that I belonged to him. That I was a whore that needed to be used like the others. When he was done, he grabbed the nearest thing he could get to.” She swallows. “Which was a flashlight that you kept on your nightstand. He fucked me with it. To the point I bled.” I look away from her. “Then after he was done with that, he dragged me to your fucking shower and washed me. I sobbed as he told me that I needed to abort our baby, but I refused. I refused to do that! I’d rather die than kill …” Her voice breaks. “So he beat me. I remember every kick to my stomach. Every punch to my face. He beat me until I was unconscious.” There are no words to take her hurt away. “Look at me,” she shouts, and my eyes find hers. “Is that what you wanted to know?” she demands.

I say nothing.

“Huh? Does that make you feel better? Answer me!” she shouts. “Because I don’t feel any better!”

“No!” I snap, and then release a sigh. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, Bunny, but I’m here now.”

“Prove it!”

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