Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Aspen
Everything hurt. My throat, my chest, my muscles, my eyes, my head, everything . I was no expert on death, but wasn’t it supposed to be painless once your heart stopped beating? Wasn’t I supposed to forfeit this body and slip down into the cracks of hell to atone for my sins? Maybe society had it all wrong after all.
Or maybe …
I wasn’t dead at all.
With a pounding head, I pried my eyes open. Light immediately encased me, making me squint. A shudder rolled through me as confusion settled in. I knew I was supposed to be dead. Heaven or hell wasn’t a bedroom, that much I was sure of. My vision blurred as it tried to focus and when it did, my chapped lips parted in disbelief.
The walls were painted a subtle gray color, a dark, wooden dresser across from me beneath a mounted TV. To my left was a door—presumably the closet. On my right, a window with thin gray curtains. Glancing down, I realized for the first time that I was in a massive bed, surrounded by thick blankets that just so happened to match the rest of the room. Gray.
Where the hell am I?
Pulling myself into a sitting position, I did one final sweep around the luxurious bedroom. My hand moved to my chest where my heart beat frantically beneath my palm. I was alive . Tears welled in my eyes at the unbelievable prospect. I’d been dead. Or at least…I was as good as dead.
Foster pushed me into the water. The words they said to me still bounced around my skull like a goddamn record that never ceased to end.
That’s it. Fuck us baby.
You deserve to be used and discarded like the trash you are.
We don’t have another choice.
Squinting, I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind. I’ve never hated someone so much in my life. Now I had four people to hate equally. People who deserved to pay for what they did. Anger consumed me, boiling my blood until I could feel it on the outer layers of my skin. Fuck them. I was alive. That would be a mistake they’d learn to regret. They should have slit my throat when they had the chance.
Throwing the blanket off of me, I kicked my legs over and planted them against the hardwood floor. The cold wood pressed against my feet, making me shiver. I officially hated the cold. With determination, I stood on shaky legs, reaching for the bed post in an attempt to steady myself.
From this moment on, I was done being used. Done being taken for granted. Done letting anyone touch me without my consent. This has officially become a game of fire and ice where only the strongest survive.
Stumbling across the room, I grabbed onto the dresser for support. My breaths came out quickly and unsteady and my muscles spasmed due to the lack of use. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since that fateful night, but I was determined to pick myself up and throw on my armor. The fight wasn’t over yet.
Sucking in a mouthful of air, I released my hold on the dresser and moved toward the door. When my hand reached the doorknob, I pulled it open and entered the hallway. My gaze traveled around the small space as I took in the random paintings adorning the walls. One thing was for sure, I’d never been here before.
Placing my hand against the wall for support, I moved along the walkway until I reached what appeared to be a living room. It was just as neatly furnished as the bedroom had been with a nice, gray sofa and a glass coffee table in front of it. Throw pillows decorated either side, bringing the look together.
In the corner of the room was a giant TV sitting on top of an expensive-looking entertainment center.
“I thought I heard someone,” a voice said from behind me, causing me to whirl around to face them. My chest heaved as tension stalled my muscles.
Before me, was a beautiful woman with light brown hair and unnaturally blonde highlights. Her skin was flawless, but I could tell by her voice that she was older. Late twenties to early thirties maybe. My gaze raked down the beautiful woman, her outfit fitting her figure nicely. The white blouse she wore was modest, and she paired it with some skinny jeans.
“Who are you?” I rasped, my throat burning.
A polite smile split her face, though it didn’t seem sincere. There was just something about this woman that seemed…off. Maybe it was the pile of makeup she had on her face, or how her eyes said more than her expression did.
“I’m Caroline. Aiden’s wife.”
My head pounded as I tried to process her answer. “Aiden?” I questioned, trying to remember meeting him. I was mostly surrounded by students, so it was unlikely that I met anyone who was married.
She laughed. “Oh, right. Mr. Monroe.”
My throat tightened and it did nothing for the raw feeling within it. How much weirder and more fucked up could my life get? I remembered seeing him at the party, but that was it. How the hell did I end up here?
“You’re probably thirsty and hungry,” she droned on. “Let me go fix you something. Do you like eggs?” She didn’t wait for a response before starting for what I assumed to be the kitchen.
“Yeah. Eggs are fine.” My stomach grumbled on instinct. I didn’t really care what I ate at this point as long as it was filling. Swiping my tongue along my lower lip, I followed her.
This felt weird. Knowing I fucked her husband and now here I was with her making me something to eat. If the world could stop shitting on me, that would be great. Leaning against the counter, I watched as she took out the ingredients and got to work.
This didn’t feel real. Sure, the pain was a pretty good reminder, but I thought that had been it for me. I’d already said my goodbyes and welcomed death.
Furrowing my eyebrows, the questions consumed me until I couldn’t take it anymore. “What happened?” I finally asked, chewing on the inside of my lip. How much do you know?
She looked over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh! Where are my manners? You’re probably so confused.” The enthusiasm had my brain turning to mush. I couldn’t tell if this was how she normally spoke, or if it was exaggerated in order to portray a stepford housewife. She definitely looked the part. Taking the spatula, she broke the eggs apart and then set it to the side before turning to face me.
“One of Aiden’s students called him the night of the Halloween party asking for help. He saw some boys dragging you away and followed them.” She shrugged like it was no big deal. Annoyance bubbled inside me at her carelessness. “Anywho…I don’t know all the details, but we agreed to take you in for now to make sure you remain safe.” Turning back to the stove, she grabbed the spatula once again and continued cooking until they were done.
“Who was this student ?” I inquired, a pit forming at the bottom of my stomach.
“I’m not sure. Aiden called him Barrow or something like that.”
My eyes blew wide, and my heart started pounding against my ribcage excessively. Barlow. As in Rocky . Why would he risk his life to help me when I blatantly refused his help in the beginning? Stumbling backwards, my hand grasped onto the kitchen counter.
Once the meal was ready for me, she handed it to me on a plate along with a glass of sweet tea and ushered me into the living room. I didn’t hesitate before sinking down onto the sofa and taking a long drink. The sugary beverage coated my tongue and throat, making me hum in approval. This was probably the last thing I should be drinking given the circumstances, but water didn’t even sound appealing.
Setting the glass down on the coffee table, I took the fork between my fingertips and stabbed a mound of scrambled eggs with it before plopping it in my mouth.
“Do they taste alright?” Caroline questioned, stepping into the living room. “They’re not too dry, are they?”
Truthfully…they were as dry as the fucking Sahara, but I was grateful, nonetheless. “They’re fine,” I lied, shoveling another bite into my mouth. I was so hungry; I’d eat just about anything right now.
After my shower, I changed into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, throwing my hair up into a messy bun once it was dry enough to do so. Since my hair was still pretty short, strands fell out of the hair-tie, but I didn’t really give a shit. Apparently, Rocky had bought me some clothes while I’d been sleeping over the last several days since he didn’t want to risk touching any of my belongings in fear of someone noticing. I wasn’t sure who would notice though, the only person that would was dead…
My heart sank. She was dead because of me. If only I’d listened to her and Gia in the beginning, none of this would have happened. Sighing, I retreated into the living room, surprised to see Monroe standing by the front door, kicking his shoes off.
When his eyes met mine, his skin noticeably paled. I didn’t know why he was so shocked to see me, seeing as how he brought me here.
“You’re awake,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
Glancing around, I saw no sign of Caroline. “Where’s your wife?” I demanded, skipping the small talk. She actually didn’t seem so bad, but then again…I barely knew her.
He shifted uncomfortably as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a hook near the door. His long-sleeve shirt clung to him like a second skin and complimented his manly figure.
“She went to have an early dinner with her sister.”
“Why am I here?”
He sighed and made his way into the kitchen, not bothering to answer me. I rolled my eyes and followed him, making sure to keep my distance. I watched as he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass, pouring it halfway full and setting it on the counter.
Something was troubling him. It was written all over his face. His eyes met mine once more and they drifted over my outfit. As if coming to a decision, he pulled another glass out of the cabinet and filled it with whiskey too. Setting it on the counter, he sighed.
“For you,” he said, inclining his head toward the glass he just filled.
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Then again, we have fucked, and I almost died. A little bit of alcohol was the lesser of three evils.
Walking further into the kitchen, I collected the glass in both hands and took a big gulp. The amber liquid burned my throat as it cascaded down into my body, but I welcomed the pain with open arms. Releasing a hiss of approval, I took an even bigger gulp, hoping to drown out the pain of what I’d endured—of what my best friend had endured.
“What all do you remember?” he asked, taking a sip of his own beverage.
Licking my lips, I cradled the glass in my hands. “I remember everything.” My stomach twisted as the memories of that night broke through my walls, forcing me to relive it. “I remember hearing Raven scream, so I followed the sound. When I got there, they were standing over her covered in blood. Her throat it had been…” I paused, the words getting stuck in my throat. Bringing the glass to my lips once more, I took another big swallow.
Monroe stared at me intently, holding on to every word. The creases on his forehead were enough of an indication to tell me that he was scared to know more. But he needed to, and I needed to tell someone.
“Her throat had been cut,” I finished. “They took turns raping me. Everyone except for Foster. And when they were done, they dragged us both out into the woods and disposed of us, Foster being the one to push me into the water.”
“Jesus fucking christ,” he murmured, downing the rest of his drink.
I didn’t want his pity. I’d be fine eventually. Raven, however, wouldn’t be. She’d never fall in love or have babies. She’d never become successful like she always talked about. Her life was cut too short and at the hands of a few punks. I wanted to avenge her. I wanted to avenge myself.
“How are you feeling?” he continued, pouring himself another glass.
“Like I was raped and almost killed.” I released a humorless laugh. “My body hurts all over. Mentally, I’m more worried about what happened to Raven than about myself.”
“That’s because you’ve trained yourself not to feel,” he accused. “Eventually, it’s all going to come crashing down around you.”
I was an expert when it came to bottling shit up, and he was probably right. I just didn’t want to keep giving them the satisfaction of hurting me. As far as they knew, I was dead. It needed to stay that way.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, though, I didn’t entirely believe it myself. I was used to being used and treated like shit. It came with the territory of being an orphan in the system. What mostly pissed me off was the fact that they tried to fucking kill me and they did kill Raven. They couldn’t get away with that.
Monroe raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by my answer. Frankly, I didn’t give a shit. If I didn’t feel angry about this, then I would feel everything , and I wasn’t sure I could survive that.
“That room I woke up in,” I began, changing the subject. “Is that yours?”
“No. It’s the guest room. It’s yours for now.”
Blowing out a breath, I nodded. There was no way I could go back to the dorms, not until I regained my strength at least. My life was fucked beyond repair, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to bounce back from this.
“Thanks,” I muttered. I was beyond grateful, but I’ve never been much of an emotional person. Not on the outside at least, so he’d just have to deal with my small, verbal appreciation and take it for what it was.
A knock sounding at the door had my posture going rigid. Who the hell could that be? My gaze drifted over to Monroe in horror as my throat closed up. He didn’t seem to be worried at all. Instead, he just shrugged and started for the door.
“Monroe,” I hissed, keeping my voice low.
He waved me off dismissively. “It’s just Rocky. He said he’d stop by for dinner. The bastard is early though.”
“Why would he be coming for dinner?” I argued. “Don’t you guys hate each other?’
He didn’t bother responding and instead, opened the door, pulling it open just enough for the southern bell to step through. Rocky’s gray eyes immediately met mine, concern flickering through them. As if we were long lost friends, he strode up to me, leaving just enough space between the two of us.
His musky cologne invaded my senses, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. I stood silently as his gaze raked over my body—though, there wasn’t much to see since I was tucked away in a baggy outfit.
“The clothes fit well,” he pointed out. “You feeling okay?” His words came out rushed and excited, like he couldn’t wait to speak them.
“Give her some damn space,” Monroe snapped in his stern teaching voice.
I breathed a laugh and nodded, answering both of Rocky’s questions. This felt weird. It felt normal . I wasn’t so sure that I was ready for normal yet. There was still so much I needed to sort through. Feelings that were still buried away in the recesses of my mind. Monroe had been right. I would never be okay if I didn’t feel at least something.
“What’s for dinner?” I questioned, my stomach rumbling from the mere thought of food. I just hoped he was a better cook than his wife.
“Loaded nachos if you’re up for it.”
“Um. Is that even a question?” I retorted. Before today, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten, and it definitely hadn’t been a nice, home-cooked meal.
Monroe chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. I also couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard him laugh, or if I’ve ever heard him laugh. It was nice. He was always so serious and uptight all the time. It was different being able to see him in his element, and I was ready to see just how he was at home, away from all the pressures of his job.
“I guess I’ll go get started on that. I’ll call for you two when it’s ready.”
“You want any help?” Rocky inquired. I knew he was just asking to be polite. I could tell by his expression that it was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
Monroe shook his head. “Cooking is therapeutic for me,” he explained. “It’ll be done within a half hour.”
When Monroe disappeared into the kitchen, Rocky turned to me once again. It felt like I hadn’t seen him in ages when it had only been about a week. Caroline had filled me in on that part.
“You probably need to sit down,” he said, motioning to the sofa.
Nodding, I walked over to the couch and took a seat. I sunk into the cushions, a sigh of contempt leaving me. Waking up had been the hardest part. My limbs had felt weak, and my throat had been raw. Now that I’ve eaten today and showered, I felt more human.
“How are you feeling? And don’t lie to me this time.” My lips parted in surprise as he stared at me intently, sitting down a foot away from me.
What did he want me to say? That I was disgusted with myself for what happened? That if I thought about it for too long, I wanted to throw up. While those might have been accurate feelings, it wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on. That made it so much worse.
Sighing, I leaned back into the couch and settled for giving him a portion of the truth instead. “Honestly?” I began, allowing my gaze to flicker over to him. “I want them to pay.” If I thought I’d been hellbent on revenge before, it was completely different now.
Rage fueled me. I was like a walking inferno, taking every word they said to me, every thing they did to me, and channeling it all into hatred. If they thought I’d been a problem before, they haven’t seen anything yet.