Chapter Ten
Violet
WHEN I GET back to our apartment, Aaron isn’t home.
Thank god. I’m still shaking with fear and adrenaline—and need.
Damon gave me the best orgasm of my life, but it wasn’t enough to put out the fire he lit in me.
I need a minute to cool down before I face my boyfriend, or else he’ll know something is up.
He’s always suspicious of me anyway. And I guess now he has a reason to be.
I don’t know what came over me, why I cheated on the person I’ve been with for years. And with Damon, of all people.
When he first left, I was heartbroken. I kept hoping that he’d come back. Or at least text me. I thought our relationship meant more to him, like it did to me. After a year of hearing nothing from him, I finally got the message. Loud and clear. I wasn’t important enough to him.
When I told Aaron about my heartbreak over Damon leaving, he didn’t take it well.
We were talking about exes, and Damon was really the closest thing I had to one.
That was when Aaron told me I wasn’t allowed to see Damon if he ever came back.
Said I wouldn’t like the consequences if he found out I had any contact with him.
I make myself a cup of tea then start rummaging through the cabinets for something to make for dinner. Maybe if I make him his favorite meal, we can have a nice night that ends in decent sex. Though I know it won’t be close to what I could have had with Damon.
Aaron cared about my needs in the beginning—both sexual and emotional.
He was funny, charming, respectful around my parents but flirty and handsy when they weren’t looking.
He wasn’t always so . . . mean. I didn’t used to feel the need to tiptoe around him, to make sure he was happy so he wouldn’t take it out on me.
I think back to when he hit me and wonder what I should have done differently to prevent it.
I’m lost in thought, trying to pinpoint when my relationship with Aaron went to shit, when I let myself get trapped in a relationship like this, when Aaron, Zach, and Tyler burst through the door in a fit of laughter and boyish shoves.
I turn to greet them, taking a step out of the kitchen toward the front door, and immediately remember I’m not wearing any panties under my skirt. Fuck.
I school my face, hoping it’s not currently beet red. “Hey, guys, I didn’t know you were coming over.” I try not to fidget with the hem of my skirt, but I want to pull it down as far as possible to keep myself covered.
Aaron walks up to me, gripping my hip possessively and planting a wet kiss on my temple. “Yeah, we were gonna watch the game at Zach’s, but his girl was being a bitch about it, so we came here.”
When he sent the text asking if we could talk, did he expect me to just wait here all evening for him?
“Well, I was going to make some chicken and rice, but I don’t think we’d have enough. I can order pizza?” I offer, my voice strained. I can barely look Aaron in the eyes as I talk to him.
“That would be great, babe.” He gives me a thin smile.
“Great.” My voice creaks, and my eyes bounce between Aaron’s nose and the hallway that leads to our room. “Let me just go change. You guys decide what you want while I’m gone.”
Aaron doesn’t release my hip, holding me hostage as he scans my face. “Why are you acting so weird? Why do you need to change?”
“Oh . . . I’m, I just thought it would be just us tonight, so I, uh . . .” I lean in so I can whisper in his ear, trying to sound seductive and not scared. “I’m not wearing anything under my skirt.”
The grin he gives me reminds me of the Jafar from Aladdin when he realizes who Prince Ali is. “Oh, so you wanted to be a little slut tonight?”
In any other tone—or from any other man, in any other context—those words would be a turn on. But the way he says it, his eyes devoid of light, makes my stomach turn.
Tonight is not going to be a good night.
“Don’t change.”
My eyes widen at his command. “A-Aaron, we have guests.”
He grips my hip harder, digging in his fingertips. “Don’t. Change. You wanted to be a little slut tonight, so be one.”
I clench my jaw to hold in my protest, and to hold back the tears burning my throat, and bow my head to show him I’ll listen. There’s no saying no to him when he’s like this; it just makes it worse.
“Good. Now order us some pizza, game’s about to start.” He turns me back toward the kitchen and slaps my ass, hard, meant to cause pain not pleasure.
I let out a yelp and grab my phone, ordering the pizzas and pulling a cold beer from the fridge for each of the guys.
After the game—which I was extremely uncomfortable during, because Aaron wouldn’t let me cover up with a blanket—I start cleaning up the paper plates and scattered beer bottles.
All three of the guys are drunk and yammering on about players and statistics.
My hope is that Aaron will be distracted enough that I can head to bed without him protesting.
If only I were that lucky.
“Hey, did you guys know Violet here likes to act like a little whore?” Aaron poses the rhetorical question, and Zach and Tyler respond with drunk laughs and lecherous looks my way.
My hand freezes halfway to the bottle I was reaching for. I stare at Aaron like a deer in headlights, terrified of where he could be going with this.
“Violet’s been walking around with no panties on all night, just hoping one of us would treat her like the skank she is,” he continues.
“Aaron.” His name comes out more like a plea than the warning it should have.
“Come here, baby, show them how good of a whore you can be.” He’s sitting with his legs spread, patting his thigh.
I know if I don’t do as I’m told, whatever game he’s playing will get much worse, he might even hit me again.
This time harder. I can handle his bullying, but I don’t feel like working from home tomorrow because I’m hiding a black eye.
So I abandon my cleaning and walk over to him, trying to swallow the nausea crawling up my throat.
As I do, he pulls his sweatpants down over his hips, palming his dick that’s already half-hard. I look to Zach and Tyler, and they’re both watching with sloppy smirks. No confusion, no concern. Tyler’s glassy gaze drags down my body, and Zach takes another swig of his beer with a wink.
I turn back to Aaron. “What are you doing?”
He looks at me, face blank, eyes emotionless—how I’d imagine serial killers look at their victims—and a chill climbs up my spine. “You’re gonna bend over and blow me, show the guys how much you like being my little whore.”
The idea makes me want to vomit, and I swallow hard, starting to take a step away from him. “No, Aaron. This is inappropriate. You’re drunk, and we should all just call it a night.”
He doesn’t like that answer. The hand not stroking his dick reaches up and grabs my shoulder, just next to my neck, pulling me down and forcing me to bend in the process.
I catch myself with a hand on either of his thighs and try to push away, but now he’s got one hand around the side of my neck and the other wrapped in my hair, leaving me at his mercy.
His grip is harsh, likely bruising, sending pain radiating from where his fingers claw into my skin.
A tingle of cold air tells me my pussy is exposed to the room behind me—to Zach and Tyler.
“Damn, Aaron, you were right. She’s completely bare under that excuse for a skirt.” Tyler snickers.
“Are you happy now, Violet? Happy to show off your tight little pussy to my friends like the whore you are?” Aaron angles my face toward him, expecting an answer.
“Aaron, please stop.” Fear clogs my throat, making my plea sound garbled.
He hooks his fingers on my bottom teeth, roughly pulling my mouth open. “You’re gonna suck my dick, and one or both of them are gonna fuck you while you do.”
I don’t have a chance to argue before he pushes my head down. His dick hits my throat, and I immediately gag, tears bursting from my eyes.
One of the guys comes up behind me, but I’m not sure which one—maybe they even switch at some point. I squeeze my eyes shut and will my consciousness to go anywhere but here.
· · ·
Steam fills the bathroom as scalding hot water cascades over me. I’ve been in the shower so long, I’m surprised the water’s not ice cold by now.
I stumbled in here as soon as Aaron released me and threw me to the floor like I was trash.
I still had some of his cum in my mouth and immediately vomited when I got to the bathroom. Then I turned on the shower, stripped off my clothes, and stepped under the hot spray, so numb I couldn’t even cry.
Aaron has said some terrible things to me, bullied me, gaslighted me, beat me—but this is by far the worst thing he’s ever done.
My throat and jaw ache, and the side of my neck feels like there’s bruises forming. I’m also bleeding a bit from the penetration. Thank god I have an IUD, because one of them definitely came inside me.
After what feels like another hour staring at the tile and trying to forget the feel of them in my body, I scrub off three more times and then make my way out of the bathroom.
I should leave. Maybe call Alyssa and stay with her tonight. But I don’t know how late it is, and I don’t want to burden her with this.
The cops likely wouldn’t believe me since Aaron and I have been together for so long, and even if they did, his dad is one of the best defense attorneys in the state.
Nothing would happen to Aaron, and his retaliation for me ruining his reputation would likely result in a hospital stay for me. Or worse.
So I just slip on some sleep shorts and an oversize tee and slide into bed with the man who just raped me. Who just let his friends rape me.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. If I leave, he’ll just find me and bring me back. The only way I’ll ever be free of him is if he’s dead, and that’s starting to sound better and better.
I fall asleep dreaming of different ways to kill the three of them.