31. Raleigh
Raleigh
31
The warm bath water soaks into my skin as I relax in the dimmed bathroom with a glass of champagne in my hand. The boys’ show is live on Ezra’s iPad as Madds oohs and ahhs over Dylan on FaceTime, watching the show along with me.
“You know,” Madds says as I tip my head back against the tub and close my eyes, relaxing in the soothing bubbles. “If you’re feeling up to it, you should look up some of Axel’s old tour videos. There are heaps of them on YouTube. After he died, people just started posting everything they had from when they saw them on tour. There are some really great ones of his solos and stuff like that. Plus, I know it’s not the same as getting to see him in the flesh, but it’s brand-new footage for you, so technically, it counts as new, right?”
“Really?” I ask, putting my champagne glass down on the edge of the tub. “I’ve never thought to look up that stuff before.”
Reaching for the iPad, I click out of the live stream and vow to come back to it later before hovering my fingers over the keyboard. “What should I search?” I ask, feeling a little overwhelmed, knowing just how much stuff could be plastered across the internet.
“Ummmmmm . . . OH! Start with his solo during ‘Hypothetically Yours’ from the show in Dublin from . . . uhhhh, I think it was maybe four years ago.”
“Really?” I mutter as I start madly typing things into the search bar. “That song came out a little over eight years ago, would they really have been performing that on the other tours? I mean, I know it’s on the current set list, but surely not for their other tours, right?”
Madds scoffs. “Clearly you don’t know Ezra as well as you think you do. Now, this could all be online gossip, but apparently, Ezra makes sure that it’s on the set list for every show they ever perform, even the one-off events like charity things and stuff like that.”
“No shit.”
“Yeah, apparently Axel said it in an interview somewhere. Actually, there’s an idea. You should look up all of his old interviews. They’re so funny, and sometimes he even talks about you. But the ones where they interview all four of the guys at the same time are the best. They’re so funny together.”
“Jesus Christ,” I laugh. “I hope you tone down this crazy Demon’s Curse fangirl stalker shit when you’re around Dylan.”
“Girl, I’m trying, like really fucking hard, but sometimes it just comes shooting out of my mouth like word vomit, and so far, he just laughs when it happens. Maybe he thinks it’s cute or something, but surely he’ll get sick of me at some point, right?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. This is all new for him. I’ve never seen him around a girl who he wants for more than a one-night stand. But clearly, whatever you’re putting down, he’s picking right up.”
I can practically hear the way her cheeks flame through the phone. “Really? You think? Because I don’t want to screw this up, and I want him to see me as so much more than just a crazy stalker fangirl.”
“Of course he does,” I tell her. “He sees you as the girl who accidentally recorded a sex tape.”
Madds groans. “At some point, I’m going to have to scrub that little snippet of information right out of your brain.”
“Not possible.”
Madds laughs. “You know, he was texting me earlier and said he wanted me to fly out for one of the shows, but it was like he was making up excuses as to why he wanted me there. He said it would be good for you to have a friend, but like, he knows damn well that every spare second you have is spent either working or with Ezra.”
“Just take it slow,” I tell her. “He’s not used to having someone who means something to him, so he’s just trying to work it out. He’s like a little stray puppy, and if you move too fast, you’ll scare him, and he’ll start running. You have to lure him in with treats.”
“You mean sex?”
“No,” I laugh as I finally manage to hit search and see a flood of Axel’s videos popping up. “I mean with kindness and patience, but like . . . It’s Dylan, so I suppose sex will also work.”
I scroll through the options before finding the one Madds was talking about. Axel’s face immediately fills the screen, a stupid grin resting on his lips as he glances at Ezra, the two of them feeding off each other’s energy.
“Is that it?” Madds asks.
“Yeah,” I breathe, relaxing into the tub as I scoop up my champagne glass and take a sip. “He’s so happy.”
“Just wait ’til it gets to his solo. He added bits, and with the live drums, it just hits differently.”
We fall into silence, and as I watch my brother play, the sweetest joy fills my heart, a joy I haven’t felt in so damn long. The whole band is incredible. Don’t get me wrong, Jett is a great guitarist. He could be a star in his own right, but it’s simply not the same as it was with Axel. When he and Ezra played together, the world felt their chemistry.
The camera pans to Ezra as he sings, and my heart races, loving seeing him like this, but when Axel’s solo comes, I find myself sitting up, gaping at the small screen. “Holy fuck,” I mutter, reaching around the iPad and turning up the volume as he hits a whole different melody while somehow keeping everything the same. I can’t describe it, not having the musical ear to figure out what he’s even doing differently, but when Ezra, Rock, and Dylan all grin at him, it’s clear that whatever he’d just done was something special.
“Oh my god.”
“Right?” Madds says, reminding me she’s still there. “Oh, next, search up his performance from their first tour in Colorado. That one is insane.”
Without skipping a beat, I start searching, and just like that, Madds and I fall down the rabbit hole of Axel’s greatest hits, and before I know it, my bath water has run cold and I’m all out of champagne. “Shit,” I say to Madds. “I better get going before more than just my fingers become pruney.”
She laughs, and I have no doubt she just pictured me with a pruney vag. “Okay,” she says. “Call me if you need me, but I know you won’t because you’ll be enjoying your wild balcony sex with your hot boyfriend while overlooking the beautiful Pacific Ocean.”
I grin to myself, not having the heart to tell her it’s the beautiful Atlantic Ocean I’ll be looking at while getting fucked within an inch of my life on the balcony. “Kay, have a good night, and remember, be chill when you text Dylan. Don’t go scaring him off.”
“I know. I know,” she says. “Night.”
With that, she ends the call, and I pull myself out of the bath, starting to shiver as I realize just how cold I allowed the water to run. Finding my towel, I pull it around me and quickly get myself dried off. As I’m searching through my clothes for pajamas, I stop abruptly. All those videos of Ax on tour make me feel as though I’ve missed out, and right now, Ezra is a short car ride away, putting on a show for thousands of people while I’m sitting in the hotel room sulking.
I should be there with him. I should be watching him rock people’s worlds over and over again. If roles were reversed, and I was the one on that stage, he would be there night after night, supporting me the best way he knew how. I need to be there.
Checking the time and realizing there’s still a good portion of the show left, I find something nice to put on before dashing into the bathroom and letting my hair out, thanking whoever exists above that I didn’t decide to wash it tonight.
After swiping mascara across my lashes, I grab my little purse and slip into a pair of heels to complete my look. Taking in my reflection, I picture the happiness on Ezra’s face when he finally sees me standing in the wing, and a beaming smile settles over my lips. Not wanting to waste another second, I practically run to the door.
Gripping the handle, I yank it open, only to barge right into a solid wall. I barely get a chance to react, to even lift my head and see who it is before a hand clamps around my throat, shoving me back inside the room.
My heart races, and while I can barely see his face, I recognize that scent.
It’s the smell of my past. The smell that sends me into a downward spiral. The smell that reduces me into a terror-filled child hiding in her closet hoping the monster wouldn’t come for her.
My father.
Panic claims me as I clutch his hand around my throat; his tight grip makes it almost impossible to breathe. He doesn’t release me, doesn’t even seem to feel the pain as I claw at his skin, digging deep grooves with my nails.
No. No. No. This can’t be happening. How did he find me? I thought this was in the past, and I would never have to see his face again. This can’t be happening.
My father locks the door behind him as I try to scream, but with his grip around my throat, not a single sound comes out of me. As a young woman, I learned the hard way what would happen when I tried to scream. It’s a lesson I took all too seriously, but I’m no longer his imprisoned toy to destroy. I set myself free and am no longer bound by his monstrous rules.
Desperate for air, my knee comes up, but he springs back, knowing my tricks all too well.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he growls, using his grip on my throat to push me deeper into the room. He reaches the bed before throwing me down, and I desperately gasp for air as I crash against the mattress. “I’d almost given up until you decided to whore yourself out to that boy in front of thousands of people. And then it was all just a game of following the breadcrumbs. You led me here, Raleigh. And then your friend, Jessica, was all too happy to point me in the right direction.”
A deep sense of betrayal hits me right in the center of my chest. I knew Jessica hated me, and after being fired today, I knew she would be feeling some kind of way, but surely he’s lying. Surely she didn’t tell him exactly where to find me.
“I should have known you’d be with him,” he says, almost as though he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner. “It was always him, but that’s where you’re wrong, Raleigh. You’re mine. You’ve always belonged to me, and now I have no choice but to remind you of that, and once I’m done, I will end your miserable life.”
I scramble, trying to get off the bed to find something . . . anything that could be used as a weapon, but he moves like lightning, his steps surer than ever before. He’s stronger, more determined, and while I can still smell the whiskey coming from his pores, there’s something else there, something I don’t recognize.
As I scramble away, crying out for help, he grabs my ankle and pulls me back. “No,” I scream, kicking my foot back and slamming it against his chest, only he doesn’t budge, he just laughs instead.
“Ahhh, it seems you’ve regained some of that fighting spirit your mother used to have.”
The fuck? Did he used to hurt my mother like this?
There’s not a moment to dwell on it before he yanks me down the bed toward him, twisting my leg so hard that I have no choice but to roll onto my stomach to avoid dislocating my hip. I try to grasp the bed sheets to find leverage, but he comes down over me, rendering my attempts at freedom useless.
“The whole world thinks you’re a filthy whore,” he says, reaching over me and gripping my wrist. He pins it behind my back before fighting for the other, and before I even get a chance to try and pull them free, they’re bound with a rope. “Why don’t we show them just how much of a whore you really are.”
My father laughs as he pulls the ropes so tight the fibers dig into my skin, and I cry out, tears welling in my eyes.
This can’t be happening. Not again.
I try to buck him off me, but it only spurs him on. “Calm down, my filthy little slut. I know you’re fucking hungry for it, but there will be time for that. Let’s wait until we have our eager audience.”
The fuck is he talking about? Eager audience? It’s the second time he’s spoken about having an audience, and the thoughts of what he’s going to do make me sick. Is he planning to record me and post it online? If he’s so willing to show the world exactly what he’s done to me over the years, it’s confirmation that he was the one who leaked the story to the media.
His hands dig beneath me, violently searching for the button of my jeans between my body and the mattress, and I cry out again and again. “GET OFF ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.”
My protests earn me a solid blow from his elbow, right in the center of my spine. A sharp cry slips from my lips as the pain takes me right back to those abandoned years.
“You’re going down for this,” I vow. “No matter where you run, you won’t escape me. I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
Every ounce of my soul is spoken in those words, and yet all he can do is laugh. “We’ll see about that, princess,” he mocks. “Once I’m through with you, there’ll be nothing left worth saving.”
He makes me sick.
The button on my jeans pops open, and as he pulls back off me, he viciously yanks my jeans down my thighs. I take the moment to strike, whipping myself over and kicking out, slamming my foot across his face, listening to the satisfying way his nose crunches under the impact, just like the first time he ever touched me.
“You fucking bitch,” he growls, lunging for me.
I go to flee, desperately trying to scoot myself off the bed, but the glimmer of a blade catching in the light brings me up short as he presses it against the base of my throat. “That’s what I thought,” my father says as I come to a terrified halt, my whole body shaking in fear. “Now, here’s how this is going to happen.”
He moves away from me, and I scramble up the bed, putting distance between us as he reaches for my small purse that’s been tossed on the ground.
“I’m going to fuck you, Raleigh. I’m going to take everything that I’ve deserved, and you’re going to lay there and take it like the filthy little whore that you are, and if you don’t,” he says, his tone shifting to something more sinister and vile than I’ve ever heard from him. “I’ll be right here waiting for your little boyfriend to return, and when he does, this blade will be plunged right through his heart. You hear me?”
Fuck.
Tears stream down my face, and all I can manage is the slightest nod as bile rises in my throat, knowing with every ounce of my being that he means every last word he says. If I don’t do this, if I don’t allow him to take every shred of dignity I’d painfully found over the past six years, if I don’t allow him to destroy me, he will end Ezra’s life.
Ezra and I would never see eye to eye on this. He would prefer I fight, prefer that I allow him to take his chances with the blade, but he doesn’t know my father like I do. Whether I play along or not, he will still rape me. Whether I lay there and take it or try to fight him off, he will still brutally force himself inside of me. The sad reality is that after years of his abuse, I already know how to play the game to ensure I’m not left bleeding and broken when he’s through with me.
My father grins as he pulls my phone from my small purse and strides up to me, using my face to unlock the screen. “Now,” he says, searching through it before pressing a few buttons. “Smile for the camera, Raleigh. We’re going to show the world just how much you like it.”