Page 126 of The Space Between
The place is quiet. Still carrying the scent of him—cedar, cypress, and oak wood and river and something deeper I can’t name.
I sink down on the couch, pulling my knees to my chest, and see it.
A note. It’s folded in half and sitting in the middle of my coffee table.
My blood freezes.
Why would Gruene leave me a note on my own coffee table when I’ve been at his cabin for the past two days?
My hands are shaking as I reach for it.
The rap on the door has me dropping it to the floor.
It’s harsh. One rap of a knuckle against the wood.
I recognize it instantly.
I know who it is.
Even before I move.
Even before I stand.
Even before I cross the room and try to check the lock.
It’s him.
Tyler.
The door explodes inward, hitting me in the hip. I scream from the pain but still try to throw myself against the broken wood.
It’s too late.
Tyler is standing in the doorway like he owns the ground he walks on and the air I’m breathing
He smiles when he sees me holding my hip. Pain is shooting down my leg and up my side from the force of the impact. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says.
That smile… that fucking smile that I used to think meant love, but only until I realized it always held a knife behind it. My stomach turns and I want to vomit.
I don’t move. I don’t speak. I just…freeze.
He crosses the threshold and grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking it so hard, I see stars, but I don’t scream again. I know he wants me to.
“Miss me?” He leans down into my face and licks the side of my mouth.
I blink, hard, my brain trying to catch up to the moment my nightmares became real. “Leave. Get out, Tyler.” My voice is sandpaper. I want to whimper from the pain in my hip and the force that he’s pulling my hair and the angle of my neck. But I don’t. I won’t. He won’t get the satisfaction.
He chuckles… like it’s a joke… like this is a game and he yanks my head further back. I can’t stop the grunt that escapes.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’m not fucking leaving. Iownyou. I owneverythingabout you. You think you can run off in the middle of the night and leave me… head to some goddamn hick town, start fucking some river rat, and I’m just going toletyou go. You’re mine, you fucking bitch. I told you what would happen if you left me… if you ever disrespected me like that.” He glances down and sees Gruene’s shirt on me. His eyes harden and his jaw clenches. He reaches under it and finds me bare beneath it. I glare at him and he rams his finger inside of me. I swallow back a scream as he snarls, “You gave what’s mine to that trash and you think you’re going to wear his fucking shirt around me, you whore.”
My blood runs cold, and bile rises in my throat at the invasion. He rips the shirt at the neck but is unable to rip it off as he brutally shoves his fingers inside of me again and again. The pain is excruciating, but I don’t react. I refuse to give him that. Squeezing my thighs together, I trap his hand, stopping his violent assault, and say, “I’m not yours, Tyler. And I’m not a whore.”
His expression shifts. It gets colder… meaner. He yanks my hair so hard I can’t stop the wail of pain and my thighs part as I bite down on the inside of my cheek. Taking advantage, he rams three fingers inside even though I’m dry. Anguish fills me, and my knees threaten to give out, but I still don’t scream. Staring up at him, I let all of the hatred I feel fill my eyes and my face.
“I’m about to fuck you… to prove who owns you, Blakelyn.” He snarls.
He’s not. I won’t let him.
