Page 77 of Finish Line

“I’ve got her.” Luke slides off his chair and over to me.

He holds me as I look at Cam and sob. “I thought I killed you. The one person who loved me for me, and I killed you.

“Evan showed me texts on his phone of his friends asking if he heard Cam died.” I hang my head and sniffle. “While I know that was a lie now, at the time, I stopped wanting to live after that.”

Cin hands me a box of tissues.

I take two and blow my nose. “Evan jacked himself off to my pain, telling me it was only a matter of time before he killed everyone else I love. He also taunted me, saying Roger wouldn’t let him touch me yet before he finished all over my face.”

My eyes close, and my whole body shivers.

I pull out of Luke’s arms. I can’t have him hold me when I tell them the next part. “Evan showed up two or three times a week. Sometimes, he brought me food. Which, most of the time, was laced with some drug. I think it was ecstasy, but I’m not sure. At that point, I didn’t care what was in the food. You have to understand, I was starving.” I press my palm to my stomach.

“You don’t need to explain.” Love fills Cam’s blue eyes. “We understand, Shelby.”

I nod and take another drink of water, the buzz long gone.

Mav comes over to hug me, but I stop him. “I can’t have you hug me right now. I’m sorry.”

Hurt flashes across his face before the reason registers, and he pales.

“The drugs running through me fucked with my inhibitions. It was like my body craved something, craved him.” I swallow the bile rising in the back of my throat. “He’d make me earn my food. I’d have to masturbate in front of him or let him get me off.”

Tears pour down my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, Shelby, you have nothing to be sorry for. Do you hear me?” Luke says. “Nothing.”

My hands shake, so I sit on them but keep going. “Evan visited every few days. In between, Roger would take me to a house to steal from them. The last time he took me out, I was so weak I couldn’t do what he wanted me to do. That night, Evan came over, but something was different.”

I swallow the lump in my throat as tears continue to run down my face. “I was lying on the basement floor when the door opened, and Roger said Evan had ‘free rein’ before Roger drove away. Evan came down into the basement and unlocked my leg shackles. I was so tired. He taunted me about how he was going to tell you everything he did to me as he took off his clothes. I tried to stop him.”

I sob.

A collective intake of breath comes from everyone.

“He got down on the floor with me. I tried to slap him or kick him, but I was so weak that he overpowered me. He kissed my neck and ground himself against me, but I never stopped fighting, no matter how weak my attempts were. I tried so hard.”

I run my hand over my hair. “When he felt how dry I was, he slapped me across my face, yelling at me. The slap dazed me. He was in between my legs, and my fight was gone. I wanted to die.”

I suck in a deep, shaky breath. “I resigned myself to what was about to happen. I dropped my hand to my side, and my fingers touched this wooden stick I found while I searched the boxes in the basement on my first day. I snapped off the head of a duster and sharpened it on the brick wall. I wrapped my fingers around it. Evan was thrusting against me, grunting out how amazing he’d make me feel, ready to rape me when I sat up and stabbed him in the jugular.”

I can still remember the feeling of the tip sinking into him. “He fell off and to the side of me, which was a good thing because I don’t think I could have pushed him off me. I didn’t glance his way. I crawled up the steps of the basement and out of the house, where I passed out. I’m not sure how long I was out, but when I came to, Roger hadn’t caught me, so I escaped. I ran. When my body gave out, I buried myself in a pile of leaves in the woods. And that’s where Nick found me.”

My sobs cease, and I’m numb once again.

Sam holds Paige, who cries on his chest. Nick’s hand is in Cin’s, whose face twists. Dom, Luke, Mav, and Cam stare anywhere but at me.

“Now, you know everything.” I turn and go over to where the whiskey is and pour myself a shot.

I throw it back before I walk off to the deck and down the steps to the beach, and no one follows me.

Unlike most nights I have been here, people pack the beach. I plop down on the side of the pathway, away from the sight of most of the beachgoers. I bring my knees up and wrap my arms around them, lowering my head, and cry.

Telling them was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, even if a weight lifted off my shoulders.

I sit for a while, sobbing my silent tears before the sand on both sides of me shifts.

I raise my head to find my guys sitting around me, facing the waves like I am. They don’t say anything, don’t touch me. They just sit with me.

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