Page 11 of The Gentleness of Rage

Slate held me tighter as if he could stop me from shaking and falling apart.

“Slate picked the lock. You didn’t answer, and we knew you were here. We were worried about you,” Lynda said calmly.

“Who are you? Seriously, I helped out in a bar a few times, and that’s it,” I demanded and struggled to get free from Slate.

I needed space and air to breathe, and these people were intruding. My knees hit the bed as I moved backwards, and I scrambled up onto it and curled into a protective ball in the corner.

“Slate, leave,” Lynda ordered.

My gaze lifted to Slate. No man liked to be bossed around.

“Lynda—”

“Slate, Jaelynn has been traumatised, she doesn’t want you here when I check her over,” Lynda cut him off firmly.

“Nobody is checking me over,” I muttered.

Slate shot me a concerned look and then pursed his lips. “I’ll go for a walk.”

Slate left my room, and the front door shut.

“I don’t need you, and I don’t know you,” I said to Lynda.

“Jaelynn, you’ve been through a horrific experience. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and I won’t insult you by pretending to. But you must have some tests done, and I need to check there’s no damage,” Lynda replied. To her credit, she did keep her distance, giving me my safe area.

“There was no rape. It was close, but they saved me in time,” I hissed.

My mind shied away from the fact that Brice’s cock had been at my entrance.

“Jaelynn—”

“Please don’t!” I screamed. Without meaning to, everything I experienced tonight poured from me as I began crying and shaking.

Lynda crossed the distance and sat on the bed. She didn’t touch or hug me but offered a safe haven for me to spill the shame and hate. Lynda patiently stayed with me for ten minutes as I sobbed and wailed like a baby before pulling myself together.

Quietly, I acquiesced to her examination.

I had bruises on my inner thighs and around my pussy where I had been grabbed hard. My wrists and arms were bruised, and there was a huge bruise on my stomach from where I’d been slammed on to the table. I kept my eyes averted the entire time Lynda examined me and was red with shame and embarrassment at the end of it.

“Jaelynn, you understand you were a victim? You didn’t ask for this to happen,” Lynda said as I put on underwear and thick pyjamas. Moving cautiously, I wrapped a robe around me and pulled on socks, too.

“Of course I didn’t!” I erupted.

“Good. Keep hold of that thought. You are going to have highs and lows. Jaelynn, your mood will vary from self-blame and recrimination, you should have fought harder, screamed louder, hurt them more. Then you’ll spiral into you won, they didn’t rape you, you had a lucky escape, you kept them off you long enough for help to arrive. Those emotions will surface when you’re unprepared. Depression may also factor in. You’ll probably need counselling to resolve some of the issues that’ll happen,” Lynda stated gently.

“I don’t have that luxury. I have to find another job. Please, you have seen I am fine, just go,” I begged.

“Are you sure?” Lynda asked.

“Yes. Please just leave me alone. You’ve checked me over, I’m okay,” I replied.

Lynda rose and offered me a dubious look, but she left. No sooner had she gone than I stripped again and headed into the shower. I hadn’t cleaned myself properly.

Slate

Slate returned to the club where Drake was still holding court. The women who’d been tied to beds, drugged, and sexually assaulted had been sent to the hospital. Royce and his henchmen had all disappeared, and Slate knew they were in the underground room of the crematorium.

Facing Drake were the dancers and waitresses, and as Slate entered, heads turned his way, and Cayla got up.

---