Page 27 of Perfidious Passion

I fought chills and nausea all night long, and even now, in the early hours of the morning, two days after Brett sexually assaulted me, I swear I can still feel his hands on me.In me.

I'm a mess of nerves and numbness. I'll go from trembling to staring blankly at the wall. Where I go from here is beyond me.

Disbelief in my actions weighs heavily on my conscience. I know it does for my guys, too. Since I gave my statement yesterday, they've been biting their tongues and holding in their questions.

I have questions, too. Like why the hell didn't I tell them Brett was being weird? He made me feel like it was my fault, and I still believe that to a degree. But after explaining everything that happened, I knowIdidn't do this to myself. I said no. I asked him to stop. I fuckingfought.

Brett should hold all the blame, but I need to take accountability for my actions as well. I kept a big secret. My trust in my men was tested, and I failed.

Why didn't I tell them?!

I'm sure anyone who's paying attention to my story would ask me the same thing. Maybe scream at me or just toss me aside for being a dumb bitch. That's valid. My anxiety may trigger some people, and unfortunately, that's the case even in my life. I drag Caleb down with me.

It's kind of like why some people askwhy don't you just leave your abuser, and the answer may be similar, but I don't have experience with that. What I know ismyanxiety is a voice in my head that constantly pokes my insecurities. It makes me question everything around me. My perception of the world, situations, and relationships warps when my logic and reasoning lose the fight against that entity inside of me that psychology calls anxiety.

Fortunately and un-fucking-fortunately, I have never been in a situation where I was being harassed. My mental state blinded me from what was truly happening and convinced me I was at fault.

I wasn't. But my mind tricked me and led me into a situation that could have cost me my life. Brett hurt me many times psychologically, mentally, emotionally, and physically. That's on him. I never asked for help, and that's my burden.

I think there's a big difference between saying something ismy faultand truly grasping what part of that fucked up thingis actuallymy fault. I know now.

I, Lilly Walker, was sexually assaulted and harassed for five days, and I amnotto blame.

Lilly

FEB. 16TH - SUNDAY

“Talk to me, baby. Please?"

I roll my head slowly until Dean comes into view. His black hair is in disarray, and the worry lines between his brows make my stomach churn with guilt.How long have I been staring at the ceiling?

"What do you want me to say, D?" I whisper, careful not to wake Aaron sleeping beside me. He was up all night fussing over me and deep cleaning the house. Anything to keep himself busy.

Dean trails a finger over my cheek. "I want to know what you're worrying about."

In the soft glow of our bedroom, the sun not yet rising, I study my husband.God, he loves me so much. I can literallyfeelhis love coursing between us as it pulls out my truth. "I'm worried you guys are mad."

Caleb chooses that moment to come out of our ensuite bathroom. "Wearemad, Lilly."

I suck in a breath, not because of the towel hanging low on his bare hips, but because I was right. Of course, they're angry with me. I would be, too.

"So fucking angry that we didn't see what was going on." Caleb sits on the bed beside his twin with a scowl etched into his features. "We didn't protect you. We broke that vow, Lil. I'm so fucking sorry."

Seeing Caleb so emotional makes my heart pound. This isn't what I expected him to say. "I'm sorry too," I croak.

Dean grips my jaw and tugs at me a little to get my attention. "I think we're all sorry, but that's a conversation for later. What I want to know is why you keep itching yourself, baby girl. What else is going on?"

A ball of stress gets lodged in my throat. I didn't even realize I was doing that. I just can't get the feel of Brett off of me. He's like a scab that just won't fucking heal.

"Lilly."

Gasping, I turn to see Aaron with his eyes on me. "I didn't mean to wake you," I say, tears forming in my eyes. Why can't I do anything right?

"You didn't wake me, my love. That was all Caleb with the bathroom light blinding me." He shoots a playful glare at his husband, then grabs my right hand. "Tell D the truth now."

"I—" I'm terrified they won't look at me the same, but they're not going to let this go. "I can still feel him."

Aaron's eyes darken, and his hand tightens in mine. Dean's arm around my waist tugs me toward him, and Caleb grunts.

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