Chapter Twenty-Three
………………………….
Ily
I FLOATED ABOVE THE CASTLE.
The stars twinkled in all their might. The Milky Way splashed across the sky like a pathway to better days. And the moon played peek-a-boo behind wispy silvery clouds.
So beautiful.
So perfect.
So pure.
I lay on my back beneath all of the night’s glory and didn’t watch.
Didn’t watch.
Back there in reality, my body rocked with his every thrust.
Back there in hell, I felt him sliding inside me, deeper and harder, rocking me forward and back, forward and back, all while I fought to stay on all fours.
It didn’t hurt.
But it did destroy me.
But I didn’t watch, so it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter as he picked up his pace and fisted my hips to pump harder.
It didn’t matter he took my body against my will.
I was free of him.
Free of Victor. Of Henri. Of nightmares.
My fingers might be entwined with Rachel’s as we faced each other. Our breath might mingle with every vicious thrust, our lips near enough to kiss. She might rock in the same primal rhythm, driven forward and back by my twin flame as he made love to her.
But it wasn’t real.
It wasn’t love.
It was rape on both their accounts.
Every facet of Henri was dead. His face, his eyes, his energy.
He thrust like a robot, blank stare, and hollow heart.
The man I’d accepted as mine no longer lived inside that shell.
He was free like me…detached and dissociated from reality.
But what was reality?
Could the freedom and light I floated in be our true reality, while down there, where everything was evil and hardship, the illusion?
A dream.
Nothing but a hologram, a hallucination, something that would end and fade.
I floated around the gargoyles and angels of Victor’s parapets as he used me. I disassociated all over again and sank into a mediative calmness unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
Golden light enveloped me, blocking out all sights and sounds and senses.
It cradled me until I lost all touch with my mortal body; I hovered in ultimate freedom.
A part of me knew it couldn’t last.
Beauty and wonder such as this could never exist forever.
But while it did, I was grateful.
So grateful to find a way to be untouchable all while being touched. Protected all while being used. I no longer sensed Henri or Rachel. No longer suffered hate or fear or pain.
Wisdom that didn’t come from me blanketed my entire soul, wrapping me up in protection full of forgiveness, courage, and truth.
Time drifted without me under its influence.
Days could’ve passed.
Weeks.
And my golden light didn’t falter.
But then…finally, a feathering tug from my body to my soul.
A fishing hook digging into my spirit, reeling me back on a nylon line I couldn’t escape.
What would happen if I cut that line?
What if I refused to go back?
Would I float to the next life and leave my body to rot?
Would I be free of living in a place I didn’t want, struggling with feelings I couldn’t stop, and enduring things I wasn’t strong enough to survive?
You are strong enough.
You have to be.
You made a promise.
To Peter.
To them.
Get them out…
My golden light faded a little, allowing mortal sensations to enter my serenity.
Hands on my hips. Grunts in my ears. The faintest pressure as the beast who raped me reached his end.
Not yet.
Not yet.
I would go back.
I would finish what I started.
But not yet.
I flew higher into the stars as he spilled inside me. I stayed in the cosmos as his body withdrew from mine.
I didn’t know what happened for a while after that.
I stayed up there where it was quiet and safe.
Where no one else could reach me.
I wasn’t aware of Rachel whispering in my ear or someone picking me up.
The detachment grew stronger as I sank from the heavens and hovered near the ceiling of Victor’s bedroom.
I’d never experienced such a thing.
The projection of my consciousness as a separate entity.
My body draped like a broken bride’s in Henri’s arms.
Sweat glimmered on his temples.
His trousers done up, his shirt neatly tucked, his face carved from stone. He might stand like a man and smile like a friend, but nothing was inside him.
Broken.
Empty.
Gone.
Bowing his head, shifting me higher in his arms, Henri said softly, “Thank you for allowing me the honour of Rachel’s company, Victor.”
Just like his body, his voice held no life, no spark.
I studied my face, where I hung in his embrace.
No life, no spark.
My eyes might be open, but they didn’t focus.
Lips slack.
I looked dead.
But that couldn’t be.
I floated a little closer, my light-ball heart skipping at the torment on Henri’s face. Beneath his emptiness, the faintest shards of agony gleamed. The longer I stared and saw past his brokenness, the more my heart flurried faster.
I’d never seen a man so…shattered. So damaged.
Lines bracketed his mouth. His eyes aged a million years. A glossiness coated his stare as if every inch of him had filled up with tears he couldn’t spill.
The longer he stood holding me, the more his energy swelled from dread to despair. It billowed in every corner. It howled in every bone. A ferocity kept building, curdling, until the cold draft of his misery sucked me close.
I tried to fight it.
But he was too strong. His soul summoned mine, pleading with me, begging me—
I snapped back into my body.
The floaty, airy feeling of drifting by the ceiling vanished.
I jerked as I settled back into blood and bone.
Heavy and solid, sticky and used.
Henri looked down at me.
The ticking of time stopped.
I bit my lip as the memories my physical body had recorded replayed in crystal clarity.
Henri on his knees behind Rachel.
Henri mounting her with a grunt that sounded as if he’d stabbed himself in the heart.
Henri moving stiffly, unwillingly.
Rachel whispering in my ear that it meant nothing. Henri meant nothing. Victor meant nothing. It was just us. Me and her. Just us. Just us. She’d kept whispering such a thing as Victor orgasmed inside me. His shuddering pulses despicable and his kiss on my shoulder utterly vile.
Henri had torn himself free the moment Victor finished.
Rachel had sagged and pushed her white teddy back into place.
I wanted to console her.
Hug her.
Make sure she was okay after years of abuse.
“You’re leaving?” Victor strolled toward us, tying the string of his pyjama bottoms and raking a hand through his hair. “But you haven’t come.”
“I’m sorry. My body…I’m tired.” He didn’t look up from the carpet. “I fucked her. That’s all you asked me to do.” He sounded as if he’d swallowed a canyon, and his soul echoed back.
“It was supposed to relax you, not…” Victor waved at Henri’s condition. “Whatever this is.”
Henri chuckled. “I’m fine. Truly.”
The edge of insanity sharpened his tone.
He’s not fine.
So far from fine.
His pain overshadowed mine like the biggest thundercloud. I couldn’t think about what’d happened to me. Couldn’t look at Victor and know his DNA was inside me.
For now, it never happened.
And really, it hadn’t.
Not in my world.
Not in my meditative freedom where no one could touch me.
But Henri?
God…I didn’t know how to help him.
I hung in his arms and witnessed a slow car crash. I could see the flames about to erupt. Hear the smash. Watch the carnage. But I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
Pouring a glass of water from the carafe on the table, Victor padded toward Rachel and passed it to her. “Here, my sweetling. Go start a bath and take a soak. I’ll order up some cheesecake, hmm?”
Rachel blinked, wary of Victor’s kindness. Climbing to her feet, she drank the water and nodded. “Thank you, Sir V. You’re so good to me.”
“I’m proud of you, my pet. If you continue being so obedient and appreciative, I might allow you to sleep in my chambers every night until the baby comes. Would you like that?”
Rachel resisted the urge to look at me, but I felt her horror. Matched it with my own.
If the two of us weren’t able to sleep in the jewel’s quarters, our resistance might struggle to hold meetings. Mollie would have to keep things going without us. Peter would have to take over the leadership role all while he dealt with bastards.
“That’s very kind of you, Sir V. I-I’d like that…but I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”
“No trouble at all. You’re rather precious to me now.” Kissing her on the forehead, he motioned toward the bathroom. “Run along now. I might join you in a bit. I’ll just see Henri out.”
“Yes, Sir V.” With a snatched look in my direction, she scurried into the bathroom and vanished.
The moment she was gone, Henri marched toward the exit. “Thanks for having us. I hope you have a restful sleep.”
Rote phrases. Programmed delivery.
All the sharp, savage emotions within him stayed bottled up.
Pressurising, amplifying, pressing against the brokenness inside him.
Victor padded after us. “And you, mon ami.” Cutting in front of us, he eyed me lying silently in Henri’s arms and curled his upper lip. “I thought she’d be more…lively.” Poking me in the breast, he shrugged. “Frankly, she was a bit of a letdown.”
In a horrifying full-circle moment, he reminded me of Samuel. His disappointment of me in the bedroom. His slurs that I couldn’t match a blow-up doll. And just like I’d been grateful for Sam’s comments, I was thankful for Victor’s because—
“So once was enough for you?” Henri paused as Victor opened the door.
Victor huffed. “I’ll never say never, but…I’ve had a better release with a half-hearted blowjob from Kirk.”
“I’m sorry she didn’t live up to your expectations,” Henri said, barren and bereft.
Victor didn’t see how close Henri was to the cliff.
A cliff that tugged him closer, closer…
“Until you’ve instilled some willingness to participate, then I’ve had my fill.” Victor sniffed. “I honestly don’t know what you see in her.”
Henri sagged as he stepped over the threshold.
He didn’t reply.
His teeth sank into his bottom lip as if holding back all those feelings mushroom clouding inside him.
“Never fear,” Victor said, completely oblivious. “We’ll work on that tomorrow.” Patting Henri on the shoulder, he grinned. “Shall we say midday? We’ll meet on the deck, and I’ll show you my favourite place on my island. You can christen your new whip. In fact…” He snapped his fingers as if he’d had a brilliant idea. “I’ll introduce you to my favourite game. I don’t let many guests play as I don’t like my jewels too marked, but…it can be our little secret. It’s called Sapphire Scars, and well…I’m sure you can guess what it entails.”
Henri nodded, his eyes blank. “I’m guessing high tea and sandwiches?”
Victor chuckled. “You and your dry sense of humour.” Stepping back into his bedroom, he waved. “Ta-ra, then. I must admit, I’m enjoying this little group of ours. Sleep well, and we’ll play again tomorrow.”
He shut the door.
The moment the lock snicked into place, Henri staggered back and slammed into the wall.
His arms trembled. Every part of him began to shake. And shake. And shake.
I squirmed to get down.
I needed to be on my feet before he dropped me.
But he sucked in a guttural groan, then swayed toward the stairs.
My heart leapt into my mouth as he tripped and stumbled down them. I didn’t know how he stayed upright as his breath came fast, his face turned white, and he broke into a run the moment we reached our floor.
Down the corridor, over our threshold, and straight into the bathroom.
With exquisite gentleness, he placed me on my feet.
With heavy, gasping inhales, he tripped to the sink and clutched the vanity with white-knuckled hands. His eyes squeezed closed. His fingers dug into porcelain. Dropping his head, he panted, “Shower. Now.”
I didn’t know what to do.
I’d seen Krish suffer a few episodes. Been witness to my poor brother as he reached critical mass and tipped over into despair. But I’d never seen a man shatter into splintering pieces before me.
Swaying toward him, I went to touch—
I stopped.
My own pain wrapped around me.
Memories of Victor.
The stickiness between my legs.
The imprint of his kiss on my shoulder.
Henri’s energy was overpowering, all-consuming.
But mine billowed too.
Hot and stinging, sharp and cutting.
I might not have watched, but my body held remnants.
I couldn’t help him.
Not yet.
Not until Victor’s horrid touch was gone.
Keeping a careful eye on Henri as he folded over the vanity, dug his elbows into the bench, and buried his face into quaking hands, I stripped out of my black lingerie and stepped into the shower.
As cold water became hot and the bliss of cleanliness helped soothe my jagged pieces, I never took my gaze off Henri.
The more seconds that ticked past, the more he shook.
The entire bathroom filled with his pain.
By the time I finished and wrapped myself in a towel, he crashed past me fully clothed and stood beneath burning water.
Holding his face to the gushing shower, he tore off his sodden shirt, unzipped his drenched pants, and coated every inch of his body in soap.
And then, he scrubbed.
And scrubbed.
His fingernails left tracks over his skin, welts and lashes as if he could scratch out the horrors inside him.
He pumped his Viagra-forced erection as if he could delete all traces of tonight.
He washed every inch.
Again and again.
Crazed and jerky.
Backing away, I hugged my towel as his motions turned manic. Desperate.
Closer and closer to that edge.
Nearer and nearer to the end.
Until finally, with a gasp and a grunt, he fell to his knees…
…and broke.