Page 35 of Jagger
Properly. But how? Give her money? I doubt she'd take it from me.
"Are there any rooms with doors you can't kick down?" Molly finally asks, glaring at me.
A smile threatens to form across my mouth, so I purse my lips and shake my head. "No. But I won't be breaking any more doors down today, and no one will hurt you here."
Another glare. "Except for you."
I say nothing.
What can I say? She won't believe me, and I don't blame her.
18
MOLLY
I can't believe I'm here inhishouse.
But I'm in Aphrodite's room, and it brings me some comfort. Not a lot, but enough.
I shower in her ensuite, tears streaming down my cheeks when I use her familiar shampoo. The scent makes me miss her more than ever, and I can't stop crying. I sink to the base of the shower and give in to my emotions until the water hurts my skin.
What if Jagger comes in now?
Good God. I can't…I should have barricaded the door. Even though it's locked, I saw how he kicked the motel door off its hinges.
Why did Jagger have to rape me? Why did he apologize and call me baby? What the fuck is wrong with him?
More importantly, why won't he tell me why he 'had to do it?' Because there's no reason. I can't think of a single justifiable reason for anyone raping anyone. It's sick. Most likely, Jagger did it for control, for power over me. Because that's what he's like; so fucking rich he doesn't know what to do with it. I don't even want to know how much he paid.
I switch off the shower and wrap myself in a towel, still sniveling. I drag a brush through my wet hair and tie it into a loose bun before staring at my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at me doesn't look familiar. I barely recognize the pale skin and sunken eyes. Then I see my aunt's house on fire, flames licking the air greedily.
My poor aunt.
I know Lawson was behind that. But why? Why would he do that? So I have nowhere to go? So I leave town?
I rise to my feet, move over to the sturdy chest of drawers, and push with all my might, thankfully moving it with ease despite its weight. I push until it barricades the door, and I sigh in relief.
Good luck kicking that down, dickhead.
My head throbs with the weight of questions I can't answer, and I quickly dress in my best friend's pajamas that smell just like her. I crawl into her bed and cry, wishing more than anything that she was here. But she's not. I could use Jagger's phone to call her…but she's under enough stress as it is with her stalker. I can't add to that.
I eventually drift off, and when I wake, it's dark. My stomach rumbles, and I bite my lip, knowing I'll have to see Jagger if I want to eat. Hopefully, he's in bed because Ireallydon't want to see him right now.
Or ever again.
I open the bedroom door and trudge downstairs, my heart in my mouth. I don't know what I'm more afraid of: seeing Jagger again or what he will do to me. Because regardless of his words, I don't believe him.
I hate him with everything I have.
I make a sandwich with trembling fingers, my eyes darting around erratically, grateful he's nowhere to be seen. I stand at the kitchen counter, my back to the wall as I eat. A packetof cookies catches my attention, and I frown. My favorites. Probably Jagger's favorite too, but fuck him. The cookies are mine.
I polish off my sandwich and grab the cookies, still checking my surroundings. I don't trust Jagger not to be hiding in the dark, ready to pounce on me.
But he's not here.
I'm shivering as I walk back upstairs, expecting to see him sitting on the bed in Aphrodite's room or leaning against the doorway.
But there's no sign of him.
