26
THEA
This was a mistake. I should’ve given it a couple more days. Although, it’s already been six since Cole last visited. I try not to go too long between visits, usually forcing myself to sleep in my room at least once a week to keep him satisfied and to stay aware of what he’s up to.
Now that he’s started talking to me, I need as much information as possible. Tonight I’ll let him come.
What I really need to know is if he realizes I made a copy of his key. It’s not a guarantee that he’ll tell me if he knows, but he may want to rub it in my face like he did with the detective. Or maybe punish me. It’s a risk, however, it’s one I feel compelled to take. If he doesn’t know, then I can continue with my plan, which still isn’t much of a plan. If he does know, everything’s ruined.
The closet door creaks open. My body stills at the sound. I stare into the darkness, not acknowledging his presence—not like I ever do. I know he’s here and he knows I’m not asleep.
Cole lies down next to me, sliding beneath the covers and wrapping an arm around me like this is the most normal thing in the world. His warm amber scent that once brought back memories of the man I thought I knew now makes my stomach churn. That war between what I wanted and the reality of who he is has been won. I don’t love this monster—I never did. I’d have to know the real him to love him. I never knew the real Cole.
The panic I felt at his previous visits doesn’t hold a candle to what I’m feeling now. Cole’s shown me that he’ll hurt me, not just emotionally or mentally. He’ll physically hurt me without a second thought. Nausea rises up and I try to swallow it back down. My chest shakes unevenly as my breath catches and releases sporadically. I clench my jaw, imprisoning the sobs that want to break free.
I can’t bear the thought of him touching me like that again.
“C’mon now, Thea, my visits can’t be rattling you that much.” His warm breath tickles my ear. “Surely, Detective Williams popping up unannounced at the studio to interrogate you and then asking Cassie questions is much more unnerving.” Cole lets out a mocking chuckle. “What’s the worst I could do? Certainly not anything we haven’t done before.”
With that, his hand travels from my waist to my hips before landing on my ass. He takes a handful, then moans. Instinctively, I try to pull away.
“You gave me permission, remember?” He snarls in my ear as he digs his nails into my flesh.
“Not like I had much of a choice.” I regret the words as soon as I say them. I’ve been trying so hard to keep my mouth shut. If I don’t anger him, maybe he’ll go easier on me. This isn’t easy by any means, I reason, although it could probably get much worse.
Cole huffs. “You’re right. You don’t get a choice. You make terrible choices, Thea.”
I scowl in the darkness. I want to argue, but it won’t get me anywhere. Plus, he’s not exactly wrong. I did date him, after all.
“You chose my brothers over me. You chose to trick me into believing we could end up together. You chose to attack me. So now, I’ll make your choices because I know what’s best for you. What’s best for us.” Cole’s hand slips beneath my waistband and under my panties. “I’ll make sure that you keep lying to everyone around you. I’ll make it so that everyone hates you. You won’t have anyone left to turn to when I’m through with you.”
His fingers push into me and I want to break down. I hate the way his skin feels against mine. I hate that stupid little gasp he makes being inside of me. I hate everything about Cole.
But as much as I hate him, my fucking body reacts to his touch. That makes me want to break down. I won’t give that to him, though. I’ll save it for later.
I try to focus on anything else aside from him touching me. I try to rejoice in the fact that he thinks I’m still lying to Cassie and that he must not know that I made a copy of his key. Those are wins. Those are wins. Those are wins. I chant the words silently, but each time I feel less and less like I’ve won anything at all. And when Cole makes me come against my will, I feel like I’ve lost everything.
I’m in the shower crying… again. Fully clothed… again. Panicking… again.
I don’t know how I’m going to keep this up. Each visit from Cole destroys more and more of me. What will I have left at the end of this? Will I be anyone of worth? Am I now?
Crying harder into my hands, I dig my nails into my scalp. The pain feels good. It feels familiar. And I’m controlling it. With so many things feeling out of my control, I try to think of what I can grasp onto to keep myself from floating away into oblivion.
Yesterday morning hits me. Deciding to drop further into my helpless role with Damian. I was able to control that, maybe a little too well. What else? Kissing Adrian and not backing down when he defended himself. Letting Sutton get me off in the haunted house in front of the scare actor. My mind searches for more. Taking what I wanted from Wes in his car.
All of it has one thing in common. I felt powerful because I was making the decisions. Maybe that’s what I need more of. Maybe until I get rid of Cole, I need to exert more power over my body with the guys to counteract his abuse.
I don’t know if it’ll work. It sounds too easy. I’ve always known that I have the power with each of them. There’s something missing. Another element that made those moments stand out. My mind tries to connect the dots. Pain. Risk. Fear. I’ve had all of those with them before, but lately it’s felt different.
In the past, I knew I was safe and none of them ever pushed me too far. They always erred on the side of caution. Something’s shifted.
With Damian, I dropped into real terror when he was fucking me. Those tears were ones of anguish. I imagined that he really wouldn’t stop even if I used my colors. Adrian, well, when he slapped me it might’ve hurt, but it also felt really good. And the way he degraded me… I want more of that. I want to know how much he hates me. I want him to hurt me. With Sutton, I really thought we were going to get caught. Then, when I realized we had been, I kind of liked it. Then there was Wes. I loved pushing him over the edge when he was driving. He could’ve crashed at any moment. But him yanking me out of the car to fuck me on the side of the road as punishment while I protested—I need more of that.
I’m twisted. I can’t deny it anymore. Maybe accepting it is what I need. Maybe that’s where I’ll find strength. Or perhaps I’ll get myself killed. That might be better for everyone at this point.