Page 74 of Queen Rose

Aria

Iblink, feeling slow and sluggish. The floor beneath me is hard and cold, and when I turn my head, I wince. It’s dirty, too. My chest heaves with labored breaths. I feel dizzy and sick. It takes me a second, but then it all comes crashing down on me—Farrah and the sticky red drink she’d spilled on me. Conner barging in while I was changing. My stomach turns. Oh, God. Where am I?

It’s dark and dank in here, like I’m in a basement. I shift to roll to my side and find my hands are bound in front of me. The twine is tight around my wrists and scratchy. My skin feels raw beneath it.

Footsteps sound from behind me. Slow, cautious, one after another, coming ever closer. When I try to roll to my back again, I’m stopped by a hand to my shoulder. Conner’s hot breath wafts over my ear and past my cheek. Even if I wasn’t already sure it was him, I’d know by the stale odor. Vomit rises in my throat, but I force it back down.

His voice is loud in the quiet stillness of the room. “So, you think you have some badass protector?” He chuckles. “How’s he going to stop me now? You thought you could stay with him all evening, and I wouldn’t be able to get to you? Is that it? You’ll have to thank that pretty friend of yours for me.” I frown, not understanding through the fog in my brain, but he continues. “The one with the broken nose. I can tell she’ll be a looker as soon as she heals up. What’s her name?”

I ignore him. As much as I dislike Farrah, this pervert doesn’t need to know a single thing about her, even if throwing her drink on me has led to this. Instead of answering, I ask, “Where are we?”

He grips my chin forcefully in his hand, giving me a shake. “You don’t get to ask questions.” I finally get a look at him when he crawls over me, straddling my abdomen. His face is strained, his eyes unnaturally wild when he begins his tirade, his voice low and mean. “You let him have what was rightfully mine. You let him fuck you, let him have your virginity! That was always meant for me. And you gave it away to him, like it meant nothing. Why Aria? Why would my good girl do that?” His features have become pinched and angry as he continues to fire one anguished, furious question after another at me. He’s fucking terrifying as he presses his lips harshly together, staring into my eyes. And when I study his, the crazy is right there, shining brightly.

“I watched you fool around. Then I watched you fuck him. I watched you fuck him wearing the birthday gift I gave you.” He punctuates the final three words with stabbing pokes of his finger to my chest.

His rage slowly approaches a boil… and I don’t think it’ll be long before he’s out of control. And here I am, completely at his mercy. I clamp my lips shut. I’m not saying a fucking word.

He gives a grim chuckle, looking up toward the ceiling for a second. “Not talking, huh?” He returns his enraged gaze to mine. “Okay, let’s find a new topic, then.”

I squirm beneath him, but stop when I realize he’s getting off on it. The bulge behind his zipper gets bigger the more I struggle to buck him off me. So I stop. Try to be completely still. And that’s really fucking hard when my heart is beating so fast it’s about to tear out of my chest, and frightened sobs are threatening to burst from me.

“You know you look just fucking like her, right?”

My eyes flick warily to his. There’s no way he’s not talking about Christina. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes as if we’re friends and he’s sharing the latest gossip with me. I swallow hard. He’s unhinged. There is no doubt in my mind, not that I ever really thought he was completely sane. No one who does the things he’s done to me is right in the head.

“Christina, of course. I only dated her because she looked just like you. She was the socially acceptable answer to my needs. I liked putting my dick in her and pretending she was my good girl.”

Hot tears leak from the corners of my eyes and trickle into my hair. My stomach churns violently.

“Your aunt is dead because of you. You understand that, right? She paid for your insolence. She paid when you decided to be a selfish little bitch.”

I give him a horrified look, and he nods. His hands coast up my torso to palm my breasts before brutally squeezing, making me cry out. He hisses, “She couldn’t keep her nose out of my laptop and found videos of us.”

Videos.I bite down on my lip, hard. Anything to distract me from how he’s touching me.

“When I walked in, she was viewing one of my favorites. I play it back all the time. It’s a pretty one of you on your stomach with your panties down around your thighs while I stroke my fingers inside your tight little cunt. Funny, the video doesn’t show my face or anything above your shoulders, so you can’t tell it’s us. But God, it sure sounds like you’re having the time of your life. All the moans and groans you make when I’m touching you.” He draws one hand back to rub it over his erection. “She fucking flipped out. Ran. I found her in your room.”

I shudder and slam my eyes shut. If I could cover my ears so I don’t have to hear anything else, I would. And this sick psycho doesn’t seem to care that I won’t look at him anymore. He’s rocking against my stomach, grinding his hard length against me. When I open my eyes enough to peek at him, he has the most blissed out, disgusting look on his face.

“Her timing was fucking awful. I’d watched a recording from earlier that day—I watch you a lot; when you’re reading, when you’re changing, when you’re sleeping. But this one—” He jerks to a stop, leaning over me and forcing my eyes open with his fingers. “You fucking look at me when I tell you this.” He grinds his teeth together, his jaw twitching. “You took him into your mouth. Willingly. You sucked him dry and made me watch it. All I could think about was how you’d probably already let him inside your tight little cunt. And how fucking angry I was with you.” He pulls my arms up and pins them over my head and gets in my face with his foul breath. He groans as he thrusts against my belly. “I’m already enjoying being able to look at your pretty face. You’re eighteen now. I don’t have to feel bad about wanting to fuck you anymore.”

I twist my head as his face comes closer, squeezing my eyes shut once again. I fight hard to keep my voice from shaking. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

His mouth stops right at my ear, his voice low, barely a rasp. “Christina kept asking why as I wrapped my hands around her neck. I explained to her what she’d seen on the screen. I didn’t even lie. And in her final moments, I admitted everything I’ve done to you over the years. And told her I was going to have you. How I’d been waiting most of your life to fuck you. To make you mine.” He lets go of my pinned wrists with one hand to put it around my throat, then finally adds, “She tried to scream, but I squeezed really hard as I was pumping in and out of her. And then she couldn’t any longer. I strangled her until she stopped breathing. She died in your bed. That’s when I came. Really hard.” My eyes fly open as I openly sob while he digs his fingers into the tender skin of my neck. He shoots me a self-satisfied grin. “That’s on you, my good girl. She’s dead because of you.”

I let his words sink deep into my soul. At first, the shame and self-loathing that I’ve felt most of my life begin to overtake me, taking me under. I’m drowning in the thought that I caused this. He wouldn’t have hurt her if I hadn’t antagonized him.

For the first time, though, I open my eyes—really open them—and come to the conclusion that I can be his victim forever or I can fight back. I won’t quietly let him win. I won’t let him take from me anymore.

Energy and determination surge through me. I thrash against him as hard as I can, managing to free my arms from his grasp. I bring them down hard, bashing him in the forehead with my elbow before I catch his face with my fingernails. They sink into his cheek and claw deeply, leaving bloody, red tracks. He howls, slapping his left hand over the injury as he backhands me with the right. His ring, the one I used to think was so beautiful, splits my cheek. I barely feel it. It only fuels my fire.

Conner scowls as he looks down at his blood-covered hand. “You little bitch. You’ll pay for that.” Getting up on unsteady feet, he wanders off down a hallway. The whole way, he continues to press his fingers to his face, then looks down at the dark red smeared over them, clearly surprised at the damage I’ve inflicted.

Not knowing how much time I have, I scramble to a kneeling position, pausing to brace my hands on the cold floor as a wave of nausea hits me. It’s hard to say whether I’m continuing to suffer from the effects of whatever drug Conner injected into my thigh earlier or if it’s the blow to the face that has me feeling sick and dizzy. In any case, I know why this dress was one of my favorites. Mom hadn’t liked it, but it was the one I’d chosen to change into right before Conner’s attack. I manage to maneuver my trembling, bound hands into the fabric at the side of my dress. That’s right. My dress has fucking pockets, you asshole.

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