25. Raleigh
Raleigh
25
16 YEARS OLD
Tears stream down my face as I race after Ezra, not able to bear the sight of him leaving, but I’ve known it was coming for the past two weeks. I’ve prepared for it and mentally scolded myself over it, but nothing could ready me for the moment he pulled away and headed through the terminal to board his flight.
“Ma’am,” a woman calls after me. “You can’t be here without a boarding pass. Ma’am!”
I don’t stop as security sprints after me, and as Ezra hears the commotion at his back, he turns just in time for me to crash into his wide chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me so damn tight that I know nothing will ever feel like home again.
“I can’t lose you,” I cry into his chest, my heart shredding into a million broken pieces.
“Never,” Ezra promises. “We’re going to make it work, okay? I’ll call every day. We’re going to get through this. Day by day, and then I’ll be right back here as though I were never gone. I’m not leaving you, Rae. Never.”
“I can’t say goodbye to you.”
He buries his face into the curve of my neck, breathing me in. “Don’t ever say goodbye,” he tells me. “Don’t ever say goodbye to me, Rae. You hear me? I fucking love you. This isn’t over for us.”
I lift my gaze, and as tears stream down my face like raging rivers, I crush my lips to his. He kisses me back, holding me as though I’m a figment of his imagination, but as a beefy arm locks around my waist, hauling me back, it’s over before it even starts.
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Ezra argues, reaching for me. “Just . . . Just give her a minute.”
“No,” I cry, clawing at the arm around my waist, but he’s too strong.
God, I was such an idiot not to come here sooner. I was too fucking stubborn, too broken to admit how much I needed this. I’ve spent all day at the lake with my phone off, refusing to be here, refusing to watch him go, and now it’s too late to say all the things I needed to say.
Ezra comes after me, but Axel is right there, pulling him away. “Come on, man. We have to go,” he says, his big brown eyes locked on mine with a heaviness I’ve never seen from my big brother before. “We’re doing the right thing. She’ll be okay. She just needs some time.”
Ezra fights against him as Dylan and Rock join in, desperate to get Ezra on the plane, and as a second security guard steps in, I stand no chance.
I’m dragged away, kicking and screaming, not getting the chance to say everything I’ve been needing to say over the past two weeks. Hell, the past three years. And as I desperately try to look back, all I see is emptiness.
He’s gone. Really gone.
The security guards take me right outside, kicking me to the curb, and as I sit in the gutter, all I can do is cry as I watch the private jet take off and disappear into the sky with the other half of my soul.
How can he be gone just like that? I didn’t get to hold him, didn’t get to tell him how much I’ll miss him, how much I love him.
I’ve spent the last two weeks hating him, refusing to see him as I buried myself in the agony, but last night, he barged through my bedroom door, climbed into my bed, and as I spent the night falling to pieces and demanding he look after my brother, he held me, not daring to let go. But by morning, I was gone, and now, I feel like an idiot.
I should have stayed. I should have begged him not to go.
God, it hurts. Just like the night I lost my mother, only that night I had somebody to hold me through the pain, somebody to tell me everything was going to be okay. Not now. Not anymore. There’s nobody here to hold me. Nobody to take away the pain. I’ve never been so alone in my life.
The agony tears through me, and as the sun begins to set on the horizon, I shakily get to my feet and start walking.
I’d taken a bus to get here and sat with a bouncing knee the whole way, willing the driver to hurry up and hoping like fuck I didn’t miss him, but now . . . I almost wish I had. No goodbye was worth seeing the pain in his eyes, the desperation, and agony that I know was reflected in mine . . . It fucking gutted me.
This is his dream, he should have been riding off into the sunset with pride, not despair.
I walk for hours, and by the time I reach my home, all I can do is stare up at it with emptiness.
I’ve feared this place for months, never wanting to come home unless the guys were here, and now without them, I’ve never been more terrified.
The way my father looks at me makes my skin crawl. The way he talks to me makes me sick, and the way he touches me when I don’t realize he’s standing right behind me . . .
I never should have let them leave, not without being honest first.
Oh God, what am I going to do?
Slipping through the hole in the back fence, I saunter up to the back porch and steal the small throw blanket off the old swing chair before moving around the side of the house and curling up on the ground, surrounded by the remnants of Mom’s dead garden.
Dad will no doubt be drunk and passed out on the couch, but at some point, he’ll wake up and take himself to bed, and when that happens, I can’t be in the house.
At maybe two or three in the morning, I’ll be free to make my way inside and go to bed. I’ll have to brace the door with my dresser, but then I need to be up and out of there before six, otherwise, he’ll look for me in the morning.
My stomach clenches, and I pull my knees right up against my chest before resting my chin against them and pulling the blanket around me.
The emptiness gnaws at me, and after what feels like a lifetime, my phone dies and as my eyes grow heavier, I crave my bed like never before. Maybe tomorrow night I can stash some snacks and a pillow out here, maybe a few energy drinks to keep me going.
When the emotional exhaustion wears down on me, I force myself to get to my feet. My knees shake, and I suck in a breath as I creep around the outside of the house, peering through all the windows.
There’s no sign of my father on the couch, and I let out a relieved breath, realizing he’s already taken himself to bed. I should be good to sneak in. I just need to get through the back door, up the stairs, and into my bedroom. Once I’m there, I’ll be free.
Fear rattles me as I make my way back around to the front door and silently slip my key into the lock. The door opens with a soft creak, and as I slip inside the old house, I hold my breath and slowly glance through the darkness.
Everything is as it should be.
I start toward the stairs, going as slowly as possible to not make a sound, and as I pass the dining room, a voice sounds through the darkness.
“Well, if it isn’t my delinquent whore of a daughter,” my father grumbles, slurring his words. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“No . . . Nowhere,” I stutter, backing up against the wall as my heart races with terror.
He stands and slowly strides around the dining table as I awkwardly shuffle toward the stairs, keeping my eyes locked on every step he takes. “Who have you been fucking, huh? Now that your little boyfriend is gone.”
“Nobody.”
“LIAR!” he roars, launching toward me and grabbing my shoulders, before violently shaking me. My back slams against the railing for the stairs, but I don’t say a word about it. “You’re a fucking whore, and it’s about time I treat you like one. You go around here in your skimpy little skirts with your tits hanging out, begging me to do something about it like a little fucking tease.”
“Touch me and die,” I spit, trying to get out of his hold. “You’re drunk. Go to bed.”
My father laughs, and the smell of whiskey assaults my nose. “Where’s your little protection detail now, huh? You’re all alone with nobody to save you.”
“You’re an asshole.”
He backhands me so hard, I taste blood in my mouth, and as I cry out in pain, he reaches for his belt. “You want to get mouthy with me, you little bitch? I’ll give you something to get mouthy about.”
Oh fuck, no.
I shove him hard, not waiting to watch as he stumbles back, and with his body blocking the hallway to the front door, I’m left with no choice but to sprint up the stairs. I take them two at a time, not even having a moment to form a scream.
His big body crashes up the stairs after me, but if I can just get to my room and get the door shut behind me, I’ll be fine. I can barricade the door and jump out the window. It’ll be a big fall, but I’ll take it a million times over what he has in store for me.
I’m halfway up the stairs when his hand locks around my ankle and yanks me back. I drop hard, my face slamming against the corner of the step, and I cry out as my nose crushes beneath the weight.
Blood spurts from my nose, but my father still holds me down, bracing his hand against the back of my head, and squishing my face into the stairs as I scream in agony. I try to fight him off, but as he drops his full weight over me, there’s nowhere for me to go.
I scream until my throat hurts, and as he reaches between us and pulls my shorts down, all I can do is cry. “Stop acting like you haven’t been beggin’ for it,” he grunts.
I try to fight him off, try to slam him with my elbow and wriggle free, but it’s no use, I’m pinned under his weight. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to run. And when he forces my legs apart and slams viciously inside of me, tearing right through my virginity, I cry out in pain.
He presses against my head to get leverage, and not a moment later, he starts to move, painfully destroying my innocence and taking what little light I have left.
His grunts and groans fill the air as his body quickly grows clammy. I can smell the alcohol seeping from his pores, and I will him to stop, to die from alcohol poisoning, or at the very least make himself so sick that he has no choice but to pull away.
It lasts far too long, and I do what I can to focus on Ezra, to focus on the love I have for him and ignore my father’s brutal torture, but it’s impossible. Every deep thrust, every agonizing touch, kills me, and by the time he finally finishes emptying himself inside of me, any sense of my childhood is gone.
He pulls himself off me, using my discarded body as a crutch on his way up, and all I can do is continue staring at the carpeted stairs as blood gushes from my nose. My father gets to his feet, and I hear as he tucks his dick back inside his pants before scoffing at me on the ground. “How’d you like that, whore? Is that what you’ve been begging for?”
Fat tears roll down my cheeks, and I don’t respond, just wishing for him to leave, but instead, he laughs. “Tight. Just like your mother.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“Things are gonna be different around here now,” he says, kicking me aside on the stairs before continuing his way up.
I listen to his heavy footsteps as he reaches the top and rounds the corner to his bedroom, and the moment the door closes behind him, I scramble for my shorts and phone and sprint to my bedroom.
My whole body shakes as I slam the door behind me and use every ounce of strength I have left to push my old dresser across the room and barricade myself inside. I fall to the ground, feeling my father’s cum leaking from inside me, and I’ve never felt so dirty in my life. I need to shower, need to scrub the scent of his alcoholic sweat off me, but I won’t dare leave this room until I know he’s gone. Instead, I crawl across the floor and lock myself inside my closet, folding my knees to my chest as I cry, and cry, and cry.
I stay there until I see a sliver of light shining from under the closet door and only then do I risk moving out into the main part of my bedroom.
I find my phone discarded on the floor, and I plug it into the charger before making my way over to the mirror. I look like a complete stranger. Blood soaks the front of my shirt and is caked across my face and chest. There are bruises marring my skin and blood smeared between my legs.
My eyes are red and swollen from a night filled with tears, and my body is utterly destroyed.
As I stare at the stranger in my mirror, I listen as a slew of texts start coming in, and I pull myself away just long enough to scoop up my phone. I go to sit on the edge of my bed, but everything hurts, and I stay standing instead, trying to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to survive.
Swiping my thumb across my screen, I find a flood of texts from Ezra and Axel checking in on me, even a few from Dylan and Rock, and the second I open the first text from Ezra, I break.
Ezra - I’m sorry. I love you. Please tell me we’re okay.
I crumble to the ground, throwing my phone aside. If only they never left. If only I had been honest with them, this never would have happened. I’d be safe in his arms, away from the monster who sleeps down the hall.
My body never would have been destroyed, my innocence never violently stolen, my world never crushed into a million shattered pieces. I would never have to fear coming home, never have to fear what might happen if I open my door, never have to fear showering. I would never have to know what it feels like to be pinned down, never have to feel the rough carpet indented on my face, never have to peel clumps of dried blood from my skin.
Never have to wipe my father’s cum from between my legs.
My nose wouldn’t be broken. There wouldn’t be bruises covering my skin, and my throat wouldn’t be raw from screaming for him to stop.
They abandoned me here and refused to listen to my cries when I begged them to take me. They thought I’d be better off, but they’ve never been so wrong. In what world is this better? In what universe is this where I’m supposed to be?
God, why didn’t they just take me with them? Why didn’t they listen to my cries?
They never should have left.
What happened tonight, it never would have happened if they were still here, if they’d taken me with them just like they always promised they would.
They lied to me. Ezra lied.
It’s all their fault. Axel and Ezra, the very men who vowed to always protect me, and they let me down, and no matter how many sweet words they send to me, nothing will ever make this okay.
I hate them. God, I hate them so much.
They left me to the wolves and now . . . I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.