Page 69 of The Venom We Bleed

Gio places a hand against the wood, the inked tattoos on the back of his palm flexing with the movement. "The maintenance team of this complex is pretty lax," he states. "It'll take at least a week for them to fully fix the damn thing."

Gio looks back but not at me. He focuses on Nolan. "I think we should board this up before morning. Otherwise, she's liable to have raccoons getting inside ... or worse." I don't have to ask what the 'or worse' could be. If tonight has taught me anything, there’s always a worse.

My gaze remains firmly latched on Lex. "You want me to come stay with you?" I ask, my brow furrowing. From what I remember of his background, he lives on the outskirts of Silverwood with his aunt after his parents’ deaths.

Lex nods even as Nolan lets loose a curse. "Not fucking happening,” Nolan growls.

Lex’s stone-gray eyes collide with Nolan’s. "Shecan'tstay here," he argues.

"And she won't," Nolan replies. "She'll stay with me."

For a moment, I think I've somehow fallen asleep and entered another of my nightmares, or maybe this is the Twilight Zone.

"Um." I raise a hand, drawing all of their attention. "Do I get a say in this?" If it comes down to a choice between Lex and Nolan, I'm not even sure which would be the safer option, but all in all ... a motel is probably in my immediate future. A week might set me back savings-wise, but if I tell Ma-Ri I’m willing to work some host shifts at the lounge, then I’m sure I can make up for it. It won't be forever.

All three men shoot me looks and answer as one. "No."

Well, that solves that question. I lower my hand and sigh. "Well, regardless of where I'm going after this, I need to get dressed."

Gio frowns as I get to my feet, keeping the blanket locked around my legs. "What about a hospital?" he asks. "Do we need to take you to see a doctor?"

My feet come to a stop in front of my closet door. I glance down at the floor, at my bare feet peeking out beneath the quilted puke green and brown blanket I'd picked up in a Goodwill clearance bin because it looked like it would be warm.What if he had an STD?He hadn’t managed to put his cock in, but he had touched me. He’d bled all over me too.

Blood is filthy. It’s full of bacteria and disease. I stare at the red splatter on the edge of my hand, at the creases in my skin that are full of crimson. I need a shower. A scalding, disgustingly hot shower. Even then … I don’t know if I’ll get rid of the feeling of his hands on me, of his cock getting so close.

It didn’t happen,I remind myself. Even so, my head floods with images of what could have happened and what might still happen in the future.I didn’t let it happen.

I begin to shake uncontrollably. My whole body trembles beneath the blanket as something akin to rage and horror dawns over me.

"Jules?" Gio's voice sounds far away and my ears are full of wind.

Bodies move around me, coming closer, but all I can do is lock onto my body hidden beneath this hideous blanket and wish for x-ray vision. I want to be able to see past flesh and bone and muscle, to know if I've been violated in another way, a new, sicker way. I swallow reflexively to keep vomit down.

"I need a shower," I mumble to myself. "I need..."Clean.I need to get clean. I want to scrub my skin until it's raw and bloody and there's no cell left on or within me that has ever been touched by another person.

A hand that feels too hot lands lightly on my shoulder. I'm gently turned around and then Nolan's face is in front of mine. "We'll get you to a doctor, Juliet," he says quietly. "Don't worry. Whatever happens, we'll make sure you're checked out."

I part dry, cracked lips. "He—" I stop and swallow again before trying anew. "He didn't..." The words are a struggle to get out.

Nolan seems to understand what I’m trying to say though. He nods sharply. “Okay, but if you still want to go, we’ll take you. No questions asked." His eyes bore into mine. The tight muscle in his jaw throbs as he clenches his teeth and then releases a slow breath to speak—as if he's trying to calm himself.

“I don’t want…” I shake my head. Fuck. Why can’t I just talk? Nothing even happened to me.Almostisn’t the same thing as actually being raped. Still, my skin crawls with invisible insects and my stomach cramps with the urge to vomit all over again.

Once more, Nolan seems to understand my non-words. "No one will know,” he assures me.

“No doctor?” I don’t even feel his hands on my shoulders anymore as I stare up into eyes like blood-soaked earth. Cinnamon and chocolate in his gaze.

His jaw flexes, an obvious sign that he doesn’t like my decision. “We can’t force you, but if you start feeling weird, youaregetting checked out. I’ll drag you to a clinic by your hair if I have to, do you understand?"

No. I don't understand a damn thing, but I nod anyway as all the breath in my lungs escapes.

Nolan releases my shoulders and nudges me toward the bathroom. "Go ahead and get showered," he says. "I'll grab you some clothes." His eyes move down my body, taking in the threadbare blanket, the blood on my hands, and my bare feet against the floor. "Don't take too long. We can't stay. Get clean and make it fast or I'm coming in after you."

With a scowl, I step back and slip into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me. The blanket loosens and then slips to the floor. I turn and regard myself in the cracked mirror over the sink. Slowly, I scan the length of my reflection. One side of my face is flushed red. Bruises are already forming on my hips and thighs. None of that bothers me. I lift my hands and hold them in front of me. My left hand has a droplet or two of blood but is otherwise pristine. My right hand though … is covered in dried, flakey blood.

I can’t bring myself to look in the mirror again. Instead, I lower my hands and turn to the cubicle of a shower—cranking the hot water knob until steam billows out from behind the plastic curtain. I find a towel under the sink and set it on the lid of the toilet. My hands are steady as I reach up and remove what remains of the t-shirt I’d worn to bed. Letting it join the blanketon the floor, I step into the piping hot water and let the warmth drive back the ice inside me.

The first pass of soap over my skin gets rid of the flakes of blood, but it doesn’t change the way I feel. The second pass is a bit better, but it's as if that asshole’s blood has turned invisible. I stare at my hands as I scrub until I see no more evidence of him on me. Even when I can’t see him, though, I can still feel him. I grit my teeth and scratch at my wrist and arm. I scrub and rub soap over me until the water runs cold. Nothing helps. The feeling of him is so far beneath my skin that it's burrowed into my very pores. A knock on the door stills my hands.

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