Page 19 of Burning Truths

Fuck you.

It takes far too much effort to hold back my sneer.

I am you. Kenna darling, we’re not going anywhere so you better make the best of it.

“Leave him, I’ll come back for more later.” Hank says, pulling me out of my head.

I let my hand slide inside his and give a soft tug to pull him back toward the exit. His large fingers wrap around mine, squeezing slightly, reminding me who owns who, but he follows nonetheless.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He says, rubbing circles on the back of my hand.

My skin doesn’t crawl at the feel of his touch. My eyebrows dip with the realization that I’ve come to find comfort in the only human interaction I have.

Just let him in.

We follow the hallway back towardsmy room,but this time he keeps his hold on me tight when I stop to look at the window. I guess the moment of freedom vanished. A stone sinks in my gut with the realization that I may never feel the sun on my skin again. What would I do to breathe in the sea-salt air? Images of Jax’s brutalized body flash in my head faster and faster. It’s then that I know exactly what I’d do to survive.

The long hallway seems never ending when my stare falls to the door at the very end. My legs want to lock up and refuse to move forward, but the sensitive skin under the collar tingles with the threat of fighting Hank. Pushing my shoulders back, I try to stand tall.

Remember who you are.

Reaching the door, he nudges it open with the toe of his boot and steps to the side to let me in. My body freezes in the doorway, dropping my hand Hank turns to face me, waiting for what comes next. The walls have changed once more yet this time the organ in my heart jackhammers at the sight.More photos. Yet, these seem more painful. Each one calls my attention but I’m unable to look for too long.

My feet carry me closer on shaky legs.

He’s showing you the truth.

Why? Brown eyes, blue hair, smiles. So many smiles. Caramel hair blowing in the sea-salt wind. My fingers hesitate for a moment when I lift my hand to touch the photo closest to me.

They’ve shown you who you are to them.

It’s the same picture that Hank showed me on his phone. Of the diner. Where laughter and smiles shine in the window reflection. Ryker sitting too close to a small beautiful woman. West, carefree like he never was with me. Ally, the traitor, in their group as if nothing happened. As if she didn’t cause it.

I stop myself before I think of the other Stone brother. I can’t. Not when I’m looking at them moving on while I stay stuck in time in the same room. Day after day.

Hank is offering you redemption. Show them that the flames burn brighter with vengeance.

My jaw clenches with frustration. I want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but all I have left to give is myself. The one thing I’ve tried to keep from his hold. The one thing he was promised a long time ago.

Why am I fighting him when who I’m really angry at are the ones who abandoned me. They left me in the hand of a mad man.

“Go clean yourself up.” he says, his voice far too close behind me.

He must see the slight way I jump when he presses his front to my back, his hand brushing my hair to the side, giving him the perfect angle to slide his lips down the column of my throat.

“I have plans for us tonight.” he whispers against the base of my shoulder. “I’ll prove to you over and over that I’m not going to leave you like they left you.”

Chills spread down my arms and he takes that as a sign of submission and want instead of what it is. Fear. Panic. Horror.

“I can’t wait.” I croak out.

He doesn’t move for a moment and I fear that he could hear the reluctance in my tone, but before I can spin around to prove myself, he steps back. Clicking his tongue he snaps his fingers for me to face him. Wild eyes meet mine.

“You’ve made me so proud today, Princessa. I’m going to show you what happens when you’re a good little girl.”

The way he says those words has bile rising in my stomach, but I fight it back down. My mind and body war with themselves. Grinning at him, I step back, my foot bumping into the dresser, the palm of my hands resting on the top behind me.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask.

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