Page 86 of Beautifully Wounded

“Angel?”

“There’s so much more,” she whispers, shaking her head.

“Just take your time.” I suggest, hoping it prompts her to finish telling me what happened to her.

“Daniel was mad about being forced into an engagement with me, naturally. So was I.” She explains, watching her fingers fidget again. “I wondered why I was the only one asking why it had to be that way. Why he wasn’t arguing or fighting the decision our parents were making?” She shrugs as she scoffs. “Turns out he’s fuelled by money. There’s a trust he gets access to when he’s twenty-one, but his father threatened that he won’t get a cent of it if he doesn’t fall into line and do as he’s told.” Her eyes come back up to mine. “So, he fell into line.”

She takes a moment, her eyes going distant, like she’s trying to recall a memory.

“I can’t actually remember the first time it happened. Daniel had turned so much hate towards me, that I figured he’d never want to touch me again, butour families kept forcing us to spend time together, and eventually, he decided that if he was being forced to marry me, then he owns me, and can do as he pleases.” She sighs, dropping her gaze to my chest. “So he started forcing me… you know… in the bedroom.”

“He raped you,” I state, and she shrugs, so I jut her chin up with my fingers and catch her gaze. “He raped you, Abbey.”

“Mum said it wasn’t rape because I was to be his wife, and part of my duty to him was letting him have his way with me. She asked me why it matters when I’m already so good at being a whore that it shouldn’t bother me.”

She chokes up then, and I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her slight frame as she cries into the crook of my neck, while I try to keep my fury reined in.

I should have killed that fucking bitch. She is so much worse than I realised.

“Why does she hate me so much?” Abbey chokes out through her sobs, and I hold her closer, her head in the crook of my neck as I press my lips to her hair again.

“Fuck, Angel. Your mum is messed up.” I try to make excuses for the bitch of a woman just so Abbey doesn’t think there’s actually something wrong with her. “She doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“I know, but it just hurts so much, knowing how she used to be with me, and how she is with me now.”

“I know it does,” I say, not knowing what else to fucking say.

This is so fucking messed up, and I know we haven’t even touched the surface yet. It fucking kills me to see, hear, and feel the pain emanating from this sweet soul.

I hold her for a long time, until her tears stop falling and her cries fall silent, and just when I think she must have fallen asleep, her whisper meets my ears.

“It happened three times.”

I stiffen.

“What happened three times?” I ask, shifting to tug her back so I can see her face, but she doesn’t let me move, obviously wanting to keep her face hidden in my neck.

“The first time was my birthday, when I turned eighteen. My birthday was during one of the lockdowns, so I thought it would be nice and quiet, but then, despite the rules set in place, my mum gave me a pill and told me to take it.”

A shudder ripples through her, and I know she’s reliving that day in her head.

“I did, not knowing what it was, but I took it because she’s my mum, and she told me to.” She shrugs against me. “Soon after, I felt really relaxed and tired. She put me in the car and drove me to Daniel’s house on the outskirts of town. She didn’t even take me into the house, just told me to get out and she drove away. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but then Daniel appeared and led me to their big shed. Half of it is decked out as a party space, and inside, were his friends…” She trails off, and I swear my fucking blood turns to ice in my veins.

“What happened?” I whisper this time, and a sob leaps from her throat right before she lurches off me and runs for the bathroom.

20

Iwelcome the burn of the vomit. It feels better than having to say the words out loud. It feels better than thinking about the day I turned eighteen, or the other times after that. It feels like a purge, and one I’m desperate for.

As I heave over the toilet, I feel a warm hand at my back, circling, giving me the type of comfort I haven’t received in so long. It feels so nice. I almost want to ask Ringo to stop, because I know that eventually, I’ll be alone again, with no one to look after me, and I don’t want to remember how good it feels to have someone care.

When the purging subsides, Ringo urges me back and flushes away the delicious food I’d eaten for dinner, before helping me stand and wetting a washer to offer me while he gets a glass of water.

Shit.

I’m exhausted.

Telling him all of that stuff about my family and Daniel has left me drained, but also kind of relieved.

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