Page 82 of Make Her Bleed
Why isn't he saying anything?
He steps forward and takes my chin in his hand. Is this when he snaps my neck?
"Good girl," he mutters before kissing my cheek.
What the fuck?
"Excuse me?" I ask as he goes to walk away.
"Did I stutter, princess?" he jokes as if everything is a fucking game to him. "I gave you the ammunition and the opportunity to see if you would snap back and you did. You have more balls than half of the men I've ever met." He laughs, turns, and goes up the stairs toward his room.
It was a test. Is any of what he told me true? Is he responsible for Teigan? Is he really Rowe's father? What the hell am I supposed to do now?
"Aria …" Rowe walks up to me and I turn my back on him, walking to the kitchen. "Aria, wait, please!"
I need something to drink, preferably something stiff … something that will knock me out and make me forget. My head is spinning.
"Aria, what do you need?" Dax pops up behind me as I hyperventilate.
"I need alcohol, maybe drugs. I don't fucking know, okay? All I know is I was not prepared for that. I was prepared for everything else, but …" I pause before I turn to all of the guys standing there, looking at me with concern. "I played into his fucking hand!" I cry as I drop to my knees, burying my face in my hands. "I showed my cards and … he wanted me to!"
I feel warm arms around me, and I fall into them, not caring who it is holding me together.
"Get me some water quick," Knox says as he holds me close, rubbing circles on my back.
Someone hands him a glass of water and Knox hands me a pill with the water. "Take it, baby. It's okay."
I take it before setting the glass of water on the floor, crying my eyes out for all the hurt, all the depravity, all the anger, love, and mistrust all over the place.
I don't know what to think, how to feel, or where to turn. I'm lost.
I’m so fucking lost.
* * *
"Aria?"I look up to find Rowe still standing in front of me. Every time I look away, I hope he will evaporate, but he doesn't. He's real, not a fantasy.
After he hurt me, I prayed he'd come back, but now it's too little too late. Somethings can't be fixed and time doesn't move backward.
"Darling, please, look at me," he begs as I hold my legs to my chest.
The others left a while ago, having to leave for various reasons, but not Rowe. He hasn't moved at all.
"Why? So I can look in your eyes while you tell me I deserve to be raped … again?"
Why would I want to look at him after what he said and how he questioned me and refused to believe me until he saw the video proof of my innocence?
Yet, I want to. I want to look at him, kiss him, forgive him, but I can't. He hurt me so bad and he hit me when I was already down.
"I'm so, so sorry. If I could take back what I said—"
"That's the problem, isn't it?" My voice cracks. "You can't take it back. Once words leave your lips, you can't swallow them back down. They can't be unheard or unspoken. It's bad enough that you didn't believe me and accused me of plotting against you—"
"Aria—" he interrupts me but I don’t acknowledge him at all.
"Yeah, accusing me of plotting against you hurt but not as much as those words you spoke. He'd just hurt me—you saw what he did in the video—and you said I deserved it. No one ever deserves to be raped, to be forced. I've never felt so low, so broken, or so ready to die as I did when you said that to me. I trusted you. I confronted him for you. I went into his office … for you," I conclude as tears race down my face, and I finally look up into his emotional blue eyes.
Rowe kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his, pleading. "I don't know what you want me to say. I fucked up. I'm so used to people wanting one thing or another out of me, expecting something, using me for some end goal. I jumped to the wrong conclusion, but that's no excuse. I shouldn't have said what I did. There is no reason that could ever be good enough.
