Chapter Eleven
“Do you have any proof that he threatened you?” the male officer asked as he wrote on his tablet.
Pointing to the bruise on my face, I cringed when I accidentally pushed it. “Yes, here.”
Nodding, he lifted the tablet and proceeded to take photos of my face. I expected it, I'd already been through this type of thing with Brandon before. When he'd first locked me in the bedroom with my hands tied behind my back, my mother had called the police. They'd taken photos of the bruises on my wrists and used them as evidence in court. He'd been given a restraining order, but because I'd agreed to be tied up in the first place, they wouldn't charge him with anything… despite the fact he’d left me for twenty four hours.
My heart sank as I watched the apathetic expression on the officer's face. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just knew there wasn't much they could do without evidence.
“We’ll make a visit to the venue and check their CCTV.” The female officer squeezed my arm in sympathy. “Hopefully they have cameras in the meeting room, so we can see what happened.”
I swallowed and glanced at my phone. Moth had insisted that the police know nothing about him. His aggressive tone when he'd dropped me home had scared me. For whatever reason, he didn't want the authorities knowing about him. If the cops went to the venue and saw him attacking Brandon, they'd want to arrest him.
“I've already asked,” I said, my palms sweating where they rested on my thighs, “They said there isn't any outside that room because it's very rarely used.”
Humming, the male officer typed on his tablet, only looking up to smile apologetically. “Thank you for asking. You know the drill, which makes me sad.”
“If you can think of any other evidence you might have,” the female officer said, “or you can find any witnesses, please call the number and quote your case code.”
I had no idea if they would bother to waste resources now that I'd lied about the CCTV. As much as Moth didn’t want me to say anything, I'd automatically called the police when Moth had dropped me home. It was almost like it was second nature now. Reporting Brandon rarely did anything, but maybe, just maybe, they'd add it as another thing to build a case against him.
The woman’s radio went off and she got to her feet, going out into the hall to reply. I rubbed my lips together as the guy finished his typing and tucked the tablet away. “Don't worry, it's definitely logged. We'll try and push to get someone to evaluate the most recent threats and get him back on remand.”
Smiling, I got to my feet to show them out. After Brandon had let himself into my shop, they'd said the same. Because he hadn't hurt me that night, they'd not been able to do anything but warn him. Without evidence, they weren't that keen to spend time on these things. Which was why there were so many domestic murders every year.
“Thank you!” I waved goodbye and closed the door, leaning against it and putting my head in my hands.
My cheek stung as I caught the bruise with my palm. Brandon had got too fucking close to hurting me. I'd thought that I was ready to be gone from the world and didn't want to be afraid anymore, but having his hands on me…
My body shuddered as the memory of Brandon was replaced with Moth. Fuck me, he'd immediately eradicated the fear and heightened everything else. It had been wrong, so wrong. He'd practically taken me without my full agreement, and yet, I hadn't stopped him… because… there was no excuse. I just couldn’t stop him, even though we were enemies. Even though we shouldn't have done it. If the cops knew what had happened after Brandon had almost raped me, they would throw the whole case out of the window, because I was the messed up one.
A knock on the door jerked me away from the window. I spun, freezing when the silhouette of a big round head… helmet… it was a fucking helmet, appeared. Wrenching open the door, I stood back and allowed Moth in.
“What did they say?” He marched into the front room, turned to face me and took his helmet off.
It was refreshing to see his eyes, his nose and the stubble that lined his jaw. My insides quivered and I pressed my legs together, feeling the wetness of him soaking my undies.
“They said that they'd come and interview you,” I quipped, fake laughing.
He launched across the room, his hand coming around my neck and pushing me against the wall. I squeaked and held his forearm, tugging fruitlessly.
“What the fuck?” I pushed through the slight gap he left in my throat.
His cold eyes bore into mine. “You told them about me? When I asked you not to? You can't help but tell the cops about me, can you?”
“I was joking.” I tugged harder as my cheeks went warm from lack of air. “I didn't mention you.”
His hand was gone and he backtracked, his eyes wide. “Why would you joke about that, after everything? Do you not know what happened when you last told the cops where we were?”
Rubbing the sore skin on my throat, I shook my head. A sob ripped from me unbidden and I crumpled to the floor, the last bit of my energy slipping away from my body.
“Of course I don't!” I spat, “One minute you were there, the next you'd all disappeared. I tried to find out what happened to you, but no one would talk. I just assumed that you'd been returned to your families. You were the messed up ones, living on your own at such a young age.”
I looked up at him, glaring through water filled my eyes. He snarled down at me, his handsome face twisted. I kinda preferred him with his helmet on, it stopped me seeing the disdain that he still clearly felt for me, despite what he'd just done. And maybe that was why he'd done it.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “you're not wrong there.”
Wiping a hand under my eyes, I got up and sank onto the couch. “Either you tell me what happened to you, so I know the consequences of my actions that day,” I said, narrowing my gaze on him, “or you fuck off out of my life for good. I'm already broken from dealing with one enemy, I’m not strong enough to deal with another.”
He sat on the edge of the armchair, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared at me. “You know one consequence of that day. You still owe me an explanation. Why did you light the fire? And how?”
Swallowing at the shift of focus, I wrung my hands in my lap. “You did protect me today, I suppose.”
“From Brandon.” He scratched his jaw. “Not from myself. I'm not sorry, though.”
“You're not?” I fucking was.
Not that I was prepared to go there right now, the air was too volatile.
Raising his eyebrows at me, he stared until I dropped my gaze. “Your pussywas so sweet, I'm going to masturbate for days just from the memory.”
“That's fucked up!” I replied, even though my whole body shuddered. “You hate me but you liked to pin me before fucking me hard?”
He hummed a deep dark sound as he stared into my eyes, the fire in them the only thing thawing the cold that usually radiated from him. “Don't play all regretful and coy now. You wanted it as much as me, even if you pretended otherwise.”
Oh jeez, this guy was dark… and drew me to him like a bug to a dangerous flame. How the shitting hell was I going to navigate the conversation with him being so god-dam manipulative?
“Back to that day.” I had to distract him and get my mind clear.
There was a lot at stake with the confession I was about to make. He couldn't know the whole truth or he would go after my friend. It was better to allow him to believe the semi-truth, rather than the whole truth. That way, I'd keep my friend safe.
The fire left his eyes and his back went straight. “Go on.”
“Please, just remember that I was thirteen years old.”
“So were we.” His sharp tone was a sign he wasn't going to be empathetic.
Licking my lips, I looked at my hands in my lap. “I was humiliated when you knocked me over the day before. Not only had the photographer caught my arse on full view, so had several students in the school. You have no idea what that did to my mental health. People laughed at me all day, showing me pictures on their phones, of me with my butt hanging out. I was the fucking laughing stock of the whole school.”
I risked raising my gaze, pleased that his hadn't changed. A part of me wondered whether he'd enjoyed seeing the pain that moment had brought me.
“It wasn't my fault.” He sniffed. “Wasp was trying to force me to speak to you.”
“You walked off, instead of coming to my aid.” Crossing my arms over my chest as all those immature and insecure feelings blossomed, I glared at him. “Which made me think you'd done it on purpose to embarrass me. Don't you remember how fucking hard being a thirteen year old was?”
He glanced at the blank television and shook his head. “While you were pissed about me embarrassing you, we were stuffing our face at lunchtime, stealing food, because we knew we wouldn't have a meal that night.”
Gasping, I put a hand to my throat. “What?”
Looking back at me, he snarled. “You were one of the only people who found where we were living. We had no parents there, like you pointed out. From the age of eleven to thirteen, we fended for ourselves in that abandoned house.”
“I hadn't known until I followed you home that day.”
“Yeah, well,” he muttered, his jaw tight, “you didn't exactly ask me to explain before you called the cops.”
The tension in the air brought the hairs on my arms into a stand. The whole subject was loaded with dynamite and one wrong spark could explode, driving him over the edge. Why the fuck had I agreed to this?
“Why were you there alone?” I asked in a low voice.
Pacing to the window, he grunted gruffly. “You don't need to know that. All you need to know is that yes, your precious pride took a battering that day, but your actions changed our whole lives.”
“I know,” I whispered as tears came to my eyes. “I'm so sorry.”
He looked over his shoulder, his spine tight. “So you admit that you did it? Killed my brother?”
My eyes widened and I shook my head violently. “No, that... that was an accident. The fire was lit nearby, just to scare you, but it was never meant to.. We never-”
“We?” His forehead creased in a harsh frown as he turned and came to me, his frame almost right against mine.
He stared down at me, fire burning in his eyes. I shrunk against the wall, waiting for the pain of his fists.
“Me,” I said quickly. “I meant, me.”
“Why?” His deep voice shook. “Why would you start a fire near our home?”
Tears dribbled down my cheeks as I shrugged. I was taking the blame for something my friend had done. Moth hadn’t mentioned her once, which meant she was in the clear. “I'm sorry,” I cried, “it was just a silly mistake.”
“Silly?” The word was so cold, I reached for him.
He shrugged me away and spun, his hands clenched at his sides. I hugged myself and pressed myself as far into the wall as I could.
“Devastating,” I muttered, “that's what it was. I called the cops, assuming that they'd be there straight away to deal with the fire. The wind took the flames and I just… panicked.”
“The fucking house was dilapidated and had wooden boards for windows. How could you be so stupid?” He glared down into my eyes and a flash of… water… appeared before he blinked it away.
I bit my lip, unable to fight him. How could I disagree with him? It was stupid of me to come up with a revenge plan in the first place.
“I've heard enough.” Shoving past me, he knocked my shoulder, not even acknowledging me as he left.
Crumpling to the soft carpeted floor, I wrapped my arms around myself and sobbed. The gut wrenching kind of sobs that tear at your soul and rip from your throat. I was alone. With my memories, with my secrets… and no one could save me from what would inevitably come. Karma.