Samara- Chapter Seventeen
My eyes fluttered as if I were going to fall asleep, yet my consciousness was still alert.
My breathing became labored as the women continued tossing roses onto the bed until their small baskets were empty.
Everyone in the room began positioning themselves in a circle around the bed as if they were going to start some sort of ritual.
The Mighty One and Devon removed their clothes, standing before me fully naked. My heart began racing. Devon walked over and slowly slid his hand up my leg as his lustful eyes traveled over my body. I tried kicking, but it was all for nothing because of how they had me tied.
Tears streamed down the side of my face because where was my savior? Where was my mother? It all started to remind me of the day she left. The sense of feeling alone and disposable. Devon’s hand moved closer toward my center as he looked at me, shaking his head for me to stop screaming.
Gunshots rang out, but it didn’t matter because even if it were someone coming to save me, it would be too late. He crawled on the bed on top of me as The Mighty One smiled on the side. He was sick, Devon was sick, and I simply just wanted to die.
“Get off me!” I shouted.
The feeling of his manhood touching my skin made my stomach curl. My eyes begged him not to, my lips muttered the words, and still they went unheard.
“No! No! No!”
“Samara!” I heard my name being called.
My eyes shot open to see Zaria leaning over me. “We’re done. No more,” she said.
She decided to do a session with me. She figured talking about it would start the healing process, but it was clear I still wasn’t ready. She sat on the side of my bed with sadness in her.
“It’s going to take some time. You will not heal overnight.”
She reached over to her side and gave me an orange journal with black stripes. “Here. Sometimes writing the words is easier than saying them. Put it all in here, no matter what it is, and when you’re ready, you can share it or read it later to face those fears.”
I took the journal from her hand. “It looks like Chevy’s.”
Her head flew back. “What do you mean?”
“I saw him writing in the car the other day. I saw the journal on the first day I met him. You didn’t know?”
I could tell she didn’t, and I didn’t know if my saying that was a good or bad thing.
“Maybe he has words that are hard to say. Don’t tell him I told you,” I told her.
She gave me a weak smile. “I won’t. I do think you should get out of the house and do something with your friends.”
I nodded. “Yeah, the girls invited me to the rink. I think I’ll go.”
Zaria was so understanding that I knew my healing process would be a little easier. I wasn’t sure how long it was going to take me to heal, but I hoped it didn’t take as long as Chevy because it seemed that he would die before his wounds turned into faded scars.