Page 211 of Heart So Hollow

“Stop pretending this wasn’t the inevitable outcome…”

Was all of this a massive trick—an elaborate game? Revenge for something I have nothing to do with? My heart sinks as his words repeat over and over, until I feel his hand on the back of my head as he twists my hair around his fist. Pressing my cheek into the mattress, he releases my wrists and reaches over me for the gun, letting my sore arms fall to my sides.

“Why are you doing this?” If I can’t fight Colson, I can at least talk to him, “You don’t have to do this,” my voice cracks as hot tears begin flowing down my cheeks.

Where is Bowen? He could be anywhere. En route could mean 15 minutes away or an hour and 15 minutes away, depending on the day.

His weight shifts again and he scoots down my legs, keeping them pinned under his shins. Then, slowly, he nudges one of my knees aside with his, and then the other, until he’s kneeling between them spreading them wide, too wide for me to move. Lodged between his fist on my head and his knees against my thighs, my heartrate skyrockets again and I start shaking uncontrollably.

“I never did anything to you,” I sob into the bedspread, “I never hurt you!”

I flinch at the sharp chill of the gun barrel on the back of my knee and freeze when I feel it sliding up my thigh. My words turn to wails of despair and my gasps burn my lungs as I start to hyperventilate. The gun moves higher until I feel the metal against the thin strip of my shorts between my legs.

He slides it up the nylon at a glacial pace, and then back down again as tears and snot run down my face onto the bedspread. I thought him pointing his gun between my eyes and then shoving it down my throat years ago was bad, but I never could’ve imagined him doing this.

Finally, he slips the tip of the barrel beneath my thin cotton underwear and I feel the cold metal against the softest part of me. I let out a scream that burns my chest, but he doesn’t care. He only presses my head harder into the mattress and resumes dragging the barrel up and down through my slit, teasing my entrance but not going any further. My muscles burn and my body is fatigued, running off of pure adrenaline as I cry out to him for any response whatsoever.

Finally, he lifts the gun and his weight shifts again. I don’t know where it is, but it’s not in his hand anymore. He shoves his arm under my stomach and jerks my ass up until I feel it hit his jeans. Then he jerks my head, my scalp burning as he pulls me up on all fours. Once my arms go rigid beneath me, he loosens his grip and I open my eyes.

I’m staring at myself, looking straight ahead into the vanity mirror. In the dim light, I can see his demonic black silhouette kneeling behind me, his face still obscured and unrecognizable. He can’t even show his face. His shoulders rise and fall with each breath and his body sways ever so slightly behind me, looking like a night rider, one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse saddling a cursed woman rather than a steed.

A second later, his arm flies up and there’s a smack followed by an intense sting radiating over my ass. He smacks me so hard that it throws my hips to the side, but then I feel another as his arm jerks back and he smacks the other side with even more ferocity. My screams feel like fire emanating from my throat and as I gasp for breath, I feel him rocking back and forth against my ass. When I look in the mirror, he’s gently grinding against me, giving a coy tilt of his head.

He's still toying with me.

“Fuck you, Colson!” I manage to bite out between choked, wet gasps, “Fuck you!”

At that, he stills for a moment and then reaches behind his back. When I hear the click, my heart nearly stops, and then I see a knife clutched in his hand.

I try to move my head, but he holds it firm, jerking my hair upward and straightening my neck. He keeps pulling until my hair is taught and my head is facing forward. I’m forced to look on in horror as he raises the knife and carefully rests it between the hair tie and my scalp.

“No, no, no, no!” I start screaming as he presses the blade to my hair. In between my wails and gasps, I squeeze my eyes shut and manage one more coherent word before he starts carving me up for the last time.

“BOWEN!”

It takes a few moments before I realize he hasn’t moved and my hair is still attached to my scalp. I open my eyes, his fist still clutching my hair, holding my head straight out in front of him. He cocks his head and I hear a familiar, deep voice cut through the silence.

“Yeah, baby girl?”

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Colson

One Year Ago

“It’s been years, why don’t you just tell her the truth?” Paige plants her boots on the knobby log next to the fire and crosses her ankles, “Since when are you such a scaredy cat?”

“I came this close—” I pinch my thumb and forefinger together, “to shooting Brett through the fucking head.”

“I know, Col,” she says gently, “but it wasn’t your fault. Like, really not your fault. You were literally unconscious. You didn’t choose to have a neurological disorder. She’s an intelligent, educated person, so why wouldn’t she understand?” Paige studies me from across the fire, shadows dancing across her face as she waits patiently for my response. “I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit,” she adds.

Maybe not, but there are other reasons she’s afraid of me. Ones that make what I did even more complicated.

“You’re right, she is intelligent.” When I stare into the flames, I can see Brett’s face right in front of me and my heart feels like it’s in a vice. “She’s the most perfect human to walk this earth, and she makes all of this—” I motion to the snow-capped peaks and mirrored lake behind us, "look like my dad’s front yard in Gunnison with five cars on blocks.”

“Well, I think you’re just being a wimp,” Paige arches a brow, drawing a laugh from me, “people might wish they didn’t say or do certain things, but true regret is getting to the end of your life and realizing you should’ve said or done something. And, of everyone I know, you’re the last person I’d think would be afraid of telling someone how you feel.”

I toss a wad of dry grass into the fire and shoot her a warning look, “There’s more to it, Paige.”

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