Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Once they realize that Bo and I will endure almost anything to try and keep the other one safe, it becomes a new game.
Bundy keeps his word that he will not personally touch either one of us, but it’s clear that he gets his pleasure from watching, from seeing in real time as someone has the spark in their eyes drowned to nothing.
The night passes in terror, being woken from my jagged nightmares by the hands of men who pull me from Bo and see who can make me cry the quickest. Once I’m tossed back to the ground, there’s a small window of peace where I could try and pull myself together, plan, anything useful.
Instead, I try to ignore the pain my body screams with to help Bo with his injuries, which are much more extensive than mine.
They quickly decide he’s just as fun to ruin. I can dull out the moments they’re touching me, fucking me, enough to get through them. I can survive it, though it leaves me searing as if each turn they take leaves razors embedded in my skin.
But Bo? I can’t dull that. When they come for him, ignoring his battered body to use him however they want, they have to stuff me back in the dog cage first. The first man who’d tried to hold me back while Bo was dragged to his knees will have the deep scratches I gave him crossing his face for at least a few days.
Now they lock us up when the other is dragged to the middle of the room.
How long has it been? It continues like this for hours, all of the night passing in pain. My body, my head, my fucking heart. All of it throbs with the infected pain of being powerless. Of men having the say over what I endure.
I hate them like I've never hated anything. I wasn’t even aware I could feel this way, but my body hums with the desire to drag my knife across each of their necks.
Maybe this is what has been missing in my lessons with Noah. Experience. A deep hatred that only comes with knowing what men are truly capable of. Not just hearing about it, but feeling it shoved inside you until you’d rather die than let them come near you again.
That pain is impossible to swallow. But it can be forged. That’s what Noah wanted me to learn.
I get it now.
I’m roused by the thud of Bo’s body hitting the ground near mine, my horrified eyes taking in every inch of him for new injuries. The door clanks shut behind the guards, and I shuffle on my hands and knees to his side.
“Bo,” I whisper, brushing back his bangs. His lip is split, a fresh trickle of blood winding down his jaw. Fresh red bruising circle his wrists, as if he’s been restrained. “Bo, where does it hurt?”
His tongue darts out, licking the blood from his lips before meeting my eyes. His are wild, pupils dilated with shock or fear, probably both. “Em, I’m not letting them do that again.”
My brow furrows, fingers tracing his face, his collarbone. “I know.”
He shakes his head, sighing deeply. “No, I mean it. We can’t wait for it to be safe for them to come for us. We need to do this on our own. I can’t let them…” he licks his lips again, trying to swallow. “I won't let them do that to you.”
My mouth dries, pausing as if he’ll elaborate. But Bo only looks resolved, jaw clenched. His chest rises and falls quickly. “Bo, what happened?”
These angry blue eyes meet mine, and he doesn't say a word.
That’s when the tears begin falling. I don’t think they’re just mine, maybe it’s both of us. Locked in a tangle, letting the hurt escape the only way we know how. I hate that he’s here but thank god he’s with me.
“Tell me you’re ready to fight, Em. I don’t care who comes in here next, it’s over.” I feel him swallow heavily, clutching me to him like he’s scared to let go. I nod into his chest, desperate to keep them from breaking my boy. My Bo.
“I promise.”
Kissing the top of my head, we clutch each other. Messy and broken, we somehow fit together even better this way. The little pieces we’ve become have more room to connect.
“I love you.” My voice shakes, but I need him to hear it. Who knows what tomorrow will bring. Some part of me wonders if this is it.
“Me too, honey. Always.”