Page 52 of Beautiful Beasts

I look up and see Harley slowly making his way over to me. I can see the smile on his face, but when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out. The smile disappears, and his hands form into fists at his side. He looks at his favorite book and then locks eyes with me.

He was going to say something; I wished it would be some smart-ass comment, but I could see it in his eyes. He won’t; he can’t, not now that he has seen me like this.

He doesn’t say a fucking word as he makes his way over to me. I release my hold on my knees as he leans down and takes me into his strong, protective arms. I shove my face into his neck as he carries me to the couch and sets me down. He turns to the fireplace and starts building a fire. When it takes off, he stands up and looks at me with pained eyes.

He comes and sits next to me, and I curl into his side as he wraps his arms around me, making sure there is no space between us. Another sob leaves me as he gently rubs my arm.

“Baby girl, please tell me what is going on,” he whispers, resting his chin on my head.

His nickname runs through my head a million times over. Harley has never called me this before. He has always called me Bella, but now he has given me a nickname, a name that will forever change how I see him and how I see us. This is his way of once again reassuring me that he belongs to me, and I want to reassure him that I am his, that I belong to him and Dante.

But now I don’t know. I don’t know if they will ever be able to look at me the same once the secret comes out, and it scares the living fuck out of me.

Harley continues to move his fingertips up and down my arm. “Please let me in,” he says in a low voice, making my heart ache even more.

I don’t respond, and he quickly moves down in front of me and grabs one of my hands. He places a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. I stare blankly into his eyes, unable to hide the darkness inside me, the shame. It is becoming overwhelming.

“Baby girl, tell me what the fuck happened to you,” he says in a more demanding voice.

More tears escape my eyes as I rapidly search his. He won’t let this fucking go. I know him; he will keep us in this room, in these spots, until I fucking say something.

“Once a whore, always a whore” I say, finally breaking the silence between us.

His eyes widen with my words, and I know he will figure it out soon. And when he puts all the pieces together, all of this will be over between us. I quickly move and get up from the couch, forcing him to stand up.

“What did you just say?” He asks, but I know he heard me. I fucking know he did.

“You heard me, Harley,” I snap.

“Baby girl,” he whispers.

I shake my head and take a deep breath.

He walks into me, grabbing onto my arms tightly. “Who the fuck hurt you?” He asks in a low, dark voice, making chills go down my spine.

I shake my head and look away from him.

“Gus. Gus, fucking hurt you, didn’t he?” He says with rage, so much fucking rage.

I don’t answer.

“Answer me right now, Bella. Right fucking now,” he demands. His voice filled my head, making my heart stop.

I turn back and look at him. “It doesn’t fucking matter,” I scream.

The darkness and pain are coming out in full fucking swing. He should have stayed away. He should have walked away, but he didn’t. He fucking didn’t, and now, I am going to shatter him, damage him because I don’t know what else to do. I just want this pain to go away. I just want all of this to fucking go away.

I feel insane. I feel so fucking unhinged that I am going to break. The final fucking piece that makes me, me, and once it breaks, there will be nothing fucking left.

“How can you say that?” He asks.

“Because it is true,” I scream as I rip my arms from his hold and walk around him, but he turns and grabs my arm again.

I rip away again and turn and face him. “Once a fucking whore, always a fucking whore, Harley,” I scream at him as the tears escape my eyes again and roll down my face.

I turn and walk over to the bookshelf. My heart is racing as I scream and rip the books from the bookcase, getting my hands on as many as possible. The books, the stories, the escape that has helped me to understand my trauma, the books that always have a fucking happy ending, the ending I will never have because girls like me never get the fucking happy ending. We are destined to fucking suffer.

“Bella, stop,” Harley says, coming up behind me. He grabs my arm again and forces me to turn around, but before I can stop myself, I have already slapped him.

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