Page 33 of The Catalyst

"Look at me," I demand but keep my tone as soft as I can, trying to be gentle but it's not in my nature.

She lifts her head and meets my gaze, heartbreak across her face. Her tears continue to spill as I say, "Tell me what he did to you."

Her eyes widen and her fingers only slightly loosen their hold on me, but she doesn't try to pull away or look somewhere other than at me. She holds my gaze in the palm of her hands. "Wha-what?"

"Tell me," I press again. "What did Nigel do to you?"

A part of me hopes she doesn't say it. If she does, my hands will be tied and I'll have to do something I really don't want to do. I have my duty, but not all of this is that. A sliver of my psyche needs her confirmation of what my assumptions are.

I see it in her eyes, but she has to say the words.

Nigel fucking raped her.

He broke the rules when we were all in the fucking house.

"I swear to you, he won't ever fucking do it again—not to you, not to anyone—but you have to tell me what happened. I will protect you myself, but you have to say it out loud." I cup her cheek in my hand and her trembling calms down. "Come on, princess. Say it." She leans her face into my hand and I watch something flash in her eyes that I've never seen directed at me, not even by the people I care about.

This woman trusts me to keep her safe and there's a sense of comfort in that. I have people who trust me for certain things, but that is not one of them. Everyone acts like they have to walk on eggshells around me, but no matter how scared she has been around me, she hasn't done that. This woman has gone toe to toe with me and never once acted like I could snap. Hell, I choked her until she almost fell unconscious and she trusted me with that.

She gives me a sense of strength with the faith she has in me—a faith I haven't earned or asked for.

The door flings open and Nigel steps out, rubbing his eyes. "Babe, what are you doing out here?"

Beth nearly jumps out of her skin as she looks at him. I don't want to let her go. In fact, some beast inside me growls at my best friend with a possessive energy and a voice in the back of my head demands I pull her back into me and escort her to my room.

Get it together, Ollie.

I take a deep breath without alerting anyone to my internal battle before dropping my hands from her. I can tell he's suspicious based on how his gaze zeros in on my hands. I was touching her and he knows I don't do affectionate touches with anyone, ever.

I must be going crazy.

"Nothing," she mutters before giving me one last look and darts into the house past him. Nigel narrows his eyes on me, but doesn't say anything about what he just witnessed.

Instead, he says, "Goodnight," but I'm not done.

"Get out here, Nigel," I demand, keeping my voice level.

His eyes widen, but he follows my instruction, letting the door close behind him.

"What's up?" he asks before a yawn tumbles out behind the words.

"I'm going to say this one time and one time only. If I find out you did to her what I think you did?—"

He interjects quickly. "Woah. What are you talking about?"

I glare at him. "Don't fucking bullshit me, man. I have a pretty good idea of what you did to that girl when you dragged her upstairs. We all heard her screaming and with her fucking mental state now…it's clear as day what you fucking did. She wouldn't say it, but I saw it in her fucking eyes. I've seen that look a million times. I know what I saw. If I ever find out that you raped her or anyone for that matter, I will handle you myself," I warn and his eyes widen with surprise. "If I'm not above the rules, neither are you. You got me?"

I don't want to do that to him, but I will if I have to. No one deserves what he did to her.

No one.

If people around this town knew what he did, I know exactly what they would say. "Of course, he's a rapist. Look at who he hangs out with." I may be a psychopath, but I've never raped anyone. I've never had the desire to, either. Rape isn't something necessary for the progression of society, no matter how much a group of conservative politicians would disagree. It's easily avoidable. The only people who do it are the ones who crave control over others and can't get it any other way.

There are no excuses, no logical reasoning that could ever be good enough to rape someone.

"Do you understand me?" I press again and he thins his lips, slowly nodding. "Good." He starts to walk away, but I grab his shoulder. "One more thing," I say, but the second he turns to face me, I punch him right in the stomach. He bends forward, wheezing from the hit. I didn't hit him nearly as hard as I could've. The intention wasn't to cause damage. It was a warning. "If you so much as make her cry again, a punch to the stomach will be the least of your worries. If you pull this shit again, I'll make you regret it. You know how I'll do that? I'll take her from you and I'll treat her so good that she'll forget your fucking name." Then, I turn and head back inside, the rage still swirling through my body.

If I didn't walk away, I probably would've done much, much worse than he can fathom. The thread was so close to snapping and all over a fucking woman.

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