Page 37 of Unhinged Cravings
“My father left my mother when I was a baby. It destroyedher. We moved from town to town, and she spiraled more each time. First alcohol, then drugs. By the time I was six, I was taking care of myself. It’s a wonder she made it that long.” I had hated my mother for years, but over time, the hatred changed to pity. “She remarried when I was eight. He seemed nice at first, but that changed quickly.” My eyes dropped to my hands, seeing the tremble in them. I crossed my arms, tucking my hands under them. “I can’t remember a day when my mother wasn’t high or drunk or without bruises after that. My bruises he kept to places no one would question.”
I sucked in a shaky breath, knowing the worst was coming. The darkness sat at the fringe of my sight, and I fought it. “When I was twelve, he started to look at me different. Leering stares, touches that made my stomach turn. He would catch himself and the creepiness would turn to anger. That’s when he started…” The crack of my voice was like glass cutting it. I hated going back to that time. It hurt even after all these years.
Emerson’s hands slid over my arms like a support structure that fortified me in ways nothing ever had.
“The first time he locked me in the basement, he left me there for hours. He broke the bulb and threw me on the glass. Then he closed the door. I was terrified and bleeding, but no matter how I pounded on the door, no one let me out. It became his favorite punishment, and soon my mother started using it. Hours at a time in the pitch black. Things would scurry at the bottom of the steps. I know now they were likely mice or bugs, but back then I imagined hell existed at the bottom of those stairs and the demons were climbing to get me.”
Tears fell, and I rested on his chest. He said nothing, just gave me the space to talk and the time to tell my story.
“When I was sixteen…” This time the sob climbed free, and he rested his head on mine, rubbing my arms. “I was sleeping, and the sound of my door creaking woke me up. I pretended to be asleep, scrunching my eyes and praying he would go away. But he didn’t. He came in and climbed on top of me.” Emerson’s hold grew tighter, and I could sense his muscles become taut. “I fought him, scratching and hitting, as he told me I had to satisfy him because my mother had passed out.” My stomach churned violently. “I kicked him in the balls and ran. But he caught me and beat me before he threw me into the basement, telling me I could come out when I was ready to fuck him.” I let out a raw laugh, remembering how sick and twisted he had been. “He left me in there day after day. My mother never came for me. School never looked because we had moved so many times to avoid any suspicion that they hadn’t bothered to enroll me in the new school. There were no neighbors, and I had no friends. By the fourth day, my knuckles were bloody from pounding on the door, most of my nails had ripped from scratching at the wood, I was hungry and thirsty. Delirious and almost catatonic. My uncle found me that night. I had been writing to him for years behind my mother’s back after finding out she had a younger brother. I lied in every letter, telling him we were the perfect family, but when my stepfather beat my mother so badly that she’d been bed bound for days, I finally wrote him with the truth and he came for me.”
Salty air invaded my lungs with the deep inhale I took. “He saved me. Took me to the hospital, then to Bridgeville. My mother had been dead for two days. She overdosed, but I sometimes wonder if she didn’t take her own life. I’ll never know.”
“And your stepfather?” Emerson’s voice was one I recognized from the first night I met him. The ruthless crime boss.
“Dead. I didn’t know how until I found out what my uncle did for a living.”
The tension lifted slightly from his muscles.
“Den took me in, hired tutors to help me finish high school. Got me in psychotherapy and paid for college. Although now that I know he works for your brother, I suspect Greyson may have had a hand in paying for those things.”
“Sounds like the asshole did.”
I peered back at him, meeting those gorgeous cerulean eyes tinged with emotion.
“So that’s why you don’t like my basement? I thought it was all the things I do to my enemies down there.”
“Nope,” I said, feeling somehow lighter than I ever had. “For some unexplainable reason, that doesn’t bother me. It’s the basement itself. I will never own a house with a basement.” A shiver ran through me. “So now you know why I need the meds and why I still dream of being locked in that basement every night, no matter how many years have passed.”
“I thought maybe it was me. You know, killer, crime boss, kidnapper?”
Staring at him, I broke into a grin, and my mood lifted completely. “Did you just make a joke, Mr. Tides?”
He grimaced. “Don’t call me that. My brother is the formal one, not me.” His bright orbs searched mine. “Thank you for telling me.”
I twisted around in his arms, and he backed up a step like the unexpected closeness worried him. His hands fell away, and I instantly missed the protective warmth they had provided.
“Don’t go telling anyone my secrets,” I teased. “I might have to kill you.”
A laugh and a lopsided grin that erased all the trauma I’d drudged up left my lower body with an annoying flock of butterflies hurling through it.
“You may know how to defend yourself, but I wouldn’t go that far.”
My hands went to my hips. “You doubt my abilities?”
“Not at all. I doubt you could kill someone.” His grin faltered. “It takes a lot out of you, and I’d hate to see something like that taint you.”
Not thinking, I reached up and traced my fingers over his jawline. “You’re not as tainted asyou think.”
He seemed taken aback before he removed my hand and said, “Take your medication, Ava.”
“Are you still sending me back to my room or are you going to tell me why you wanted me to wear shorts today? Was it just to see my pretty legs?”
“Both,” he said.
“Both? But I said three things, so which two?” I was pushing him, but he didn't seem to mind and the further we were from my confession, the better.
He shook his head. “There was a reason I wanted you to wear shorts and yes, I wanted to see your pretty legs, even though that wasn’t the reason.”
