Chapter Ten. #4
“Jared, no. Stop. Jared, I don’t want this. You need to listen to me. P-please st-sto-stop,” I plead, finally able to speak.
“Shut up, yes, you do,” he growls.
With my pants now unbuttoned, he moves to his, flicking the belt off with ease and zipping down his pants.
Tears trickle down my cheeks. My body’s giving up on the fight already.
Pathetic.
His pants fall down to his ankles revealing tight underwear that show his arousal at the situation.
Disgusting.
My stomach twists in knots, vomit surfacing in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to see this. I can’t watch this happen to me.
“Jared, please,” I beg, tears pooling on my chest.
He ignores me, tugging my pants down hard, while keeping hold of my wrists.
A motorcycle roars behind me, getting louder and louder. I peek over my shoulder to see a bike speeding straight toward us, then go flying by without a rider on it right next to us as it skids on its side, tearing up the lawn.
Next thing I know, the biker’s running at us, his feet thundering on the grass. In one swift movement he leaps at Jared. I stagger out of the way, finally free from his grip.
Jared shuffles backwards but not quick enough.
The biker jumps in the air, cocks his arm back and with all his weight throws a punch at Jared on his way down, knocking him fully on his back before landing on his feet directly over him.
He bends down, grabs his shirt collar and punches him one more time in the face.
He shoves him hard back toward the ground, causing Jared’s head to bounce as it hits the grass.
I stand at a distance, pulling my pants back up and buttoning them while debating whether I can safely run to my car or not without them noticing me. But my mind goes quiet when I hear my savior speak.
Ben’s muffled voice screams from under the motorcycle helmet as Jared starts to get up, his pants still at his ankles.
“Stay the FUCK down, you piece of shit.” His voice shakes with anger.
Jared’s upper lip is cut, blood bubbling over his bottom lip and down his chin.
More blood drips down the side of his face from under his left eye, most likely due to the silver rings always present on Ben’s hand.
Ben’s hands are fisted as his side, shaking.
He doesn’t have motorcycle gloves on. He always wears them.
Did he rush over here? How did he know what was going on?
Ben starts walking backwards toward me, keeping his eyes on Jared.
Jared’s chest heaves quickly up and down, his brain clearly calculating what to do next. He sits up quickly to make a move, but it’s too late. Ben crouches down over him and lifts his visor, his helmet inches from Jared’s face.
“If you do not stay the fuck down, I will beat you so hard that you will lose everything. Your life will be ruined because I’ll make damn sure your legs won’t work properly enough to run anymore.
Your face will be so gruesome, you’ll never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again, let alone get another woman.
You’ll be fucking lucky if you can ever grab anything with those disgusting hands of yours if you try me.
I swear it, Jared. I will fucking destroy you.
” He raises his finger and points it in his face.
“Don’t you ever touch a woman when she says no.
Don’t you ever fucking push yourself on a woman.
If I hear of you trying to pull this shit again on Char, I will fucking kill you!
That’s a promise,” he threatens, his voice deep and loud.
Jared stays down, his teeth gritting in pain and fury and gives Ben the most vile look, as if he’s going to find a way to take him down and make him regret it.
Ben, with a look of rage, steps over Jared and runs toward me.
He grabs my hand, pulling me to run next to him toward his bike that’s still lying on its side in the grass.
The tread marks from where it skidded are deep, completely ruining that section of their yard.
I can’t think. My brain can’t process everything happening. How did he know where Jared lives? How did he know what Jared was doing to me? Whose bike is he riding? It’s not his usual red or black one.
He picks up the bike, kicks it on and yells over the engine noise, “Get on!”
Without hesitation, I obey.
I wrap my arms around his waist as we speed off toward the front of the house. The wind’s cold as ice as it dries my tears, but the coolness calms me enough to stop the crying. I close my eyes, embracing the sting, the rush of wind and noise of my brain being drowned out by the engine.
He stops in the valet lot where my car’s the only one left and puts his feet on the ground to hold the bike steady for me to get off. My legs are unsteady, almost giving out when they hit the pavement, but with resolve they stay steady enough, enabling me to shakily walk to my car in a daze.
“I’ll follow you home,” he shouts over the sound of the bike, flipping his visor back down.
I nod, unable to speak and start up my car.
It’s a torturous drive home. Scenarios of what could’ve happened haunt me in the silence.
A staggering whiplash of emotions runs through in succession, mocking me.
Anger the most prevalent. Anger at myself for getting in that situation.
Anger at the piece of shit Jared turned out to be.
Tears cloud my vision as the anger releases.
Has he done this to someone else before?
Was this what he planned to do all along to me? Damnit, I’m so naive.
I blink fast to clear my vision, the road becoming hard to see through the cloudiness of the tears.
The only thing keeping me sane is seeing Ben’s headlight in my rearview mirror.
I’m unable to describe the feelings I want to express to him about what he’s done for me tonight. I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to him.
I park in the driveway and turn the car off. A second later, he pulls his bike up next to me, shuts it off, and sets his helmet on it. His face is unreadable, calm, steady.
I’m unable to look at myself in the rearview mirror. I must look like a pathetic mess, but I can’t find the energy to care right now.
He says nothing but instead opens my car door and pulls me out into his arms. As he walks me to the door, I curl up into him, reveling in the safety of his embrace. I burrow into his chest and soft cloth hits my skin, instead of the expected scratchy leather.
That’s right.
He isn’t wearing his motorcycle jacket either. He must’ve left in a hurry because he never rides without all his gear on.
Whatever, I don’t care. All I care about is that I’m out of that situation. It could’ve been so much worse. I froze in a moment when I needed to be strong the most. I can’t believe I stopped fighting so quickly.
Pathetic.
He holds me tightly as I sob into his chest. He sets his head on mine and whispers over and over, “I know. It’s okay. Let it out. You’re safe. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
My legs weaken, my crying now inconsolable. Whatever strength I have left is gone, causing me to slide down his sweatshirt as I start to collapse.
Noticing right away, he picks up my legs and carries me the rest of the way up to the house. He opens the door with his key and quietly shuts it before carrying me up the stairs.
I stay buried in his shoulder, wishing I could melt into him. I don’t want to think. Don’t want to see those images of what could have happened. Don’t want to imagine how it could’ve ruined my future.
He quietly opens my bedroom door and sets me on the bed before going back and shutting it.
I lean over and rest my arms on my legs, trying to shrink myself up as much as possible. The bed dips underneath his weight as he places a gentle but firm hand on my back.
“Are you okay, Charlotte?”
“Don’t use my full name to coddle me like my mother would,” I snap in a congested tone from all the crying.
Guilt twists my stomach even more for snapping at him right now, but I don’t know what to do with my emotions. The fear, guilt, rage and disgust are overwhelming and hearing my name out of pity from his mouth is unbearable.
“Sorry, Char.”
“I feel so gross, Ben. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to allow myself into a situation like that. I barely even put up a fight. It was pa-pa-thetic.” I choke out the last word as more tears soak the skin on my arms before falling to the ground.
He moves off the bed and kneels in front of me, his hands gently resting on my shins. His hair slightly covers his left eye that peers deep inside me, begging me to hear the words he says next. I look away, ashamed.
His knuckle grazes my chin and gently lifts it, forcing me to meet his gaze again.
“Now, I want you to hear me, Char. You were not stupid to be caught in that situation. Jared is a fucking piece of shit to put you in a situation like that in the first place. You did absolutely nothing wrong. And you didn’t stop fighting; your body was frozen.
It’s a trauma response. How could you expect yourself to handle a situation like that when you’ve never really been around guys.
” He pauses, his brows creasing. “If he had gotten any further, I would have fucking killed him. I swear it.”
He drops his gaze and his knuckle and places his hands on his thighs, still kneeling.
“I heard rumors that he’s done shit like this to girls at other schools, but I never saw or heard concrete proof, so I didn’t think much of it.
Then when I saw you guys getting closer and seemingly cozy, I started to be more cautious…
to pay attention more. I wanted to keep a close eye on you guys to make sure he was behaving.
I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. ”
He leans back and runs his fingers through his hair, a small amount of Jared’s blood glimmering off the silver ring on his right hand in the moonlight coming in through my window. Taking a deep inhale, he studies me as if waiting for me to say something.
“How’d you know where Jared lived and why were you there and whose bike is that?” I ask more calmly. The tears slow down as I focus on him and wait for his answers. How did he know where I was? I guarantee he hasn’t been to Jared’s before. Was he following me?
“I kept checking in with you while you were there, because I had a bad feeling something was going to happen. My gut had this horrible tug in it the later the night got. So, when I texted you the last time and you didn’t respond, I got worried.
It was so late…By how you were texting me I was hoping you might give me a call or at the least text me when you got home. ”
We lock eyes for a fleeting moment before he shies away his gaze to the floor. I know he’s referring to my text about wishing he was there. He’s right. I would’ve called him on my way home.
“His family’s rich, but they’re still listed so I googled his address.
I was originally planning on just driving by and seeing if your car was there and to check if the party was still going, but once I got there, I saw your car and no one else’s, leading me to believe you guys were alone.
As I drove further past, a light in the backyard caught my attention.
I flipped my visor up and saw two shadows in front of a fire.
” He fidgets his hands together and clenches his jaw, scowling at the memory.
“I….I wanted to get a closer look. When I started slowly driving toward the backyard and your shapes became clearer, I noticed you were in a defensive position and seemed to be writhing away from him. I knew immediately what was going on right then.”
His breathing increases, lips tightening into a thin line.
“It took everything in me not to ram him with my bike straight into the fucking fire, but I didn’t want to take the chance of hitting you.
So instead, I angled myself in a way where I could punch him and throw him to the ground in one shot so I could get you away from him.
” His knuckles are white, gripping each other as he grits his teeth.
“And the bike?” I whisper.
“It’s my bike. I own it.”
I had no idea he owned more than two bikes.
Words escape me on how to express my gratitude and how much what he did meant to me. My protector. My best friend.
It doesn’t matter what’s happened in our life, he always comes back for me.
“Thank you, so, so much Ben,” I whisper, looking down at my feet. “I…I don’t know what else to say besides that right now.”
His boots scrape the floor as he crawls toward me. I don’t move, allowing him to wrap his arms around me in a tight hug and give me a kiss on the top of my head. Heat and butterflies surge through my body, warming up the coldness from the night.
I let him hold me until a wave of tiredness overtakes me. He releases me from the hug as I move to lay on my side. A tug on my feet pulls my legs down softly.
He’s taking my shoes off for me. Wow.
He places my feet up on the bed and walks away.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper with my eyelids closed, afraid of his answer.
“I’ll be right here, always,” he whispers back, stroking his fingers through my hair. My lips upturn into a sleepy smile, and I drift off to sleep.