Grace

Grace

I threw it out, then took it back out of the trash.

I set it on the kitchen table and now I’m staring into its black button eyes, my arms crossed.

I should throw it out. I shouldn’t keep this “gift.” I should destroy it again—but I can’t.

I’m attached to it. Because it’s damaged.

Because it’s different. This teddy bear was with me when I was captive.

I can smell the damp, rich scent of soil and the musty air of the cellar clinging to it.

It’s a piece of my past, a memory I can touch.

I don’t have many of those left. I never went back to that accursed farmhouse after that fateful night.

I stroke its tiny black eyes and its matted, dirty fur. Back then, they didn’t make plush toys soft. This one is ugly and rough to the touch. I was fifteen when I received it—Chase left this “gift” on my bed after he first raped me.

…

I was sitting in my room, wrapped in a towel. Chase crouched down in front of me and looked deep into my eyes. His dark eyes glinted in the dim light.

Hot tears burned against my cold skin. I wanted to close my eyes, but I didn’t—his gaze held mine captive. When I drew in another breath, my whole body shuddered.

His warm fingers were caressing my ankles in a restrained way.

I curled my toes and scooted back, away from him.

I didn’t want him to touch me. I clung to that accursed rag as if my life depended on it, clutching it so tightly over my breasts that my fingers turned numb and white.

My heart was racing. Fear lodged in my throat, and I could barely swallow.

“I don’t want it, Chase,” I whimpered. But he peeled my fingers off the towel delicately.

His sharp gaze swept over me more than once.

I was trembling. My small breasts rose and fell softly.

My body might have been far from that of a grown woman, but he looked at me as if I were the most beautiful person on earth.

I swallowed my tears in silence. Gently, he made me lie on my back. He straightened up and unbuckled his belt. His body loomed over mine, casting a shadow. He pushed down his pants.

I didn’t dare look at him.

I stared at the gray ceiling, my eyes wide and unblinking. My limbs trembled like a leaf, and I tasted tears at the back of my throat.

I thought of Mom and Dad. I thought of my room. Of warmth. Of freedom. I wanted to run from that cold, stinking room, from the cage of my own body.

I broke into sobs as Chase climbed on top of me. His skin burned against mine, soft and warm. My heart pounded frantically, the sound filling the silence of the room. Air locked in my lungs, I couldn’t breathe. I lay beneath him, rigid and numb.

At that moment, I was thinking about Daisy and Jamie. And the bloody bedsheet.

Fear settled into my bones, and bitterness burned in my heart, because Daisy was free.

My best friend… And I had no idea what had become of her.

Did they continue their sinful relationship?

Or did she find a boy her own age? My head was spinning with questions, tangling together like spiders weaving a web of sorrow.

Will I ever see my parents again in this life?

My pain tore out of me, loud and bitter. Chase entered me roughly. Throbbing heat spread between my shaking legs. Raw, searing pain ripped through my body, erasing the warm smile of my parents.

I dug my nails into his firm shoulders and clamped my mouth shut. But I couldn’t hold back my tears—they fell like heavy rain down my face.

After a few thrusts, the pain subsided. My soul was dying.

This is not how I had imagined losing my virginity. Not this way, without having any say in what was happening to me. Without deciding who I wanted to give myself to, or how. Chase took it from me. And I didn’t protest, didn’t fight him, because I knew there was no point.

“I’m only fifteen,” I whispered with my eyes closed.

He kissed a tear from my face and whispered over my slightly parted lips, “I’m sorry.”

When he was finished, he washed me and led me back to my prison.

He changed the sheets and carefully placed the teddy bear in the middle of the bed.

…

The memory makes me shiver.

Tears fill my eyes and anger blossoms in my chest. All my questions have been answered—I never saw my parents again.

Of course, things changed between us as the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, then years.

I didn’t forget my parents, my best friend, or my siblings.

I could still recall the streets, the school’s oval courtyard, the old gate, the crowded corridors.

I could even hear Mrs. McLaren’s voice as I rummaged through my memories.

Mr. Miller found me in my dreams. I was having nightmares and I found comfort in Chase’s arms when I woke up screaming in the middle of the night. I hid under the blanket, crying, trembling. Chase stormed in and jumped on the bed.

“No!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Leave me alone!”

“Grace, it’s me. Grace.”

He pulled the blanket off me and shook me gently.

My hair clung to my tear-soaked face, and sweat dampened my thin nightclothes in patches.

My terrified eyes scanned the dark room.

Shadows chased one another until I came to my senses.

Chase cupped my face in his hands and stroked my cheek with his thumb.

“He was here. He was here…” I whispered hoarsely. Fat tears fell onto his hand.

“No one is here, Grace. You’re safe.”

I broke into sobs and clenched my fists.

I pounded weakly, clumsily against Chase’s bare chest. He didn’t slap me or pin my hands down.

Instead, he gathered me into his arms and pulled me onto his lap.

He rocked me as if I were a crying child and he was my mother.

Then he kissed me. His kiss soothed the ache in my body and soul.

Sunlight poured into my mind, and my nose filled with the scent of summer.

It was warm and peaceful. The magic of our first kiss silenced the rebellion in my heart.

Chase wasn’t demanding or forceful. His tongue slowly found its way into my mouth, and when it met mine, they began a slow, intoxicating dance. The heat of the kiss made me forget everything. His touch burned me. His fingers traced the familiar arches and curves of my young body as if in worship.

Chase let his full weight settle over me.

His hot skin pressed against mine. His heart was racing, just like mine.

This was the first time I had given myself to him willingly.

He entered me carefully and moved his hips gently.

He was in love, making love to me. And deep underground, far from the world’s expectations and judgments, I did what I had longed to do when I was free.

I cast aside all my pride and shame, because now I had to live by a different set of rules.

The code I had always held myself to was gone.

I didn’t have to keep myself away from him.

I didn’t have to be afraid of people judging me for it.

The future I had once imagined—the one filled with colors, flowers, dreams, and ambitions—had sunk into a deep well.

The girl who used to ride her bike through the streets of Willow Creek, carefree and smiling, was fading.

The earlier colorful image of the future I used to pursue had disappeared.

I opened my heart and let his in. I tasted his lips, thirsted for his kiss, my fingers dancing over him, searching, touching.

At that moment, I wanted everything that was Chase Baker.

I moved my hips against the dirty bedsheet, looking for even more pleasure.

My hard nipples pressed against his chiseled torso.

I was lost in Chase’s dark whirlpool—it pulled me under, held me there, and didn’t release me until I climaxed.

His silent touches and the soft brush of his lips made my womb clench and grow heavy.

His thrusts hurt less because my desire welcomed him with liquid warmth.

I was close to climax—my orgasm stalked me, panting at my neck.

Chase’s hot breath caressed my damp skin.

My release took over and spread through my body like wildfire.

I opened my eyes warily. I was afraid to look into Chase Baker’s eyes, because my body had just betrayed what my heart felt. As soon as the wonderful feeling faded, I faded with it, too.

I hated him, and I hated myself. I hated what was between us. I hated the day Nikky had dragged me along with her. Because that day, my fate was sealed.

…

I grab the ugly object. It makes an eerie sound, as if I were walking on dry leaves.

My heart starts racing. I press two fingers beneath the teddy bear’s navy-blue suit and claw out…

dry petals. Their crumbled remains fall into my lap.

I keep searching the plush toy, which has been cut open, the cotton stuffing removed.

It has been filled with dried petals—and a piece of paper. I unfold the note with trembling hands.

You are mine, Grace.

You know it very well.

“I know,” I reply to the handwritten note. As the ceiling fan sends warm air through my hair, I suddenly shiver because another memory surges through me, sending a hot wave through my body and awakening an aching desire between my legs. It’s insistent, warm, sweet.

Just like honey.

Just like me.

Chase’s chiseled body was moving above me—his soft lips closed around my nipples, and his dark eyes were glistening as he looked at me.

His eyes told me I was the most important thing in the world.

And when our gazes met, he pressed a gentle kiss to my fingertips as his hot release spilled onto the cold concrete beneath me.

I close my eyes and recall that dark room. I recall him. And the desire—the feeling—that kept growing inside me as time went on. I yearned for him, for his kiss, his touch, his body, and the pleasure he gave me.

I gently bite my lip and recall the moment he entered the room bare-chested, his jeans hanging low on his hips. After I had told him to go fuck himself.

…

I was eighteen.

Chase slid his brown leather belt out of his trousers.

My body tensed, and my fists clenched at my sides.

I looked straight into his eyes, tears burning in mine.

I wanted to shout. The words scorched my throat—but that day, Chase wasn’t using the belt to beat me.

It slipped from his hand, and the buckle clinked sharply against the concrete in the thick, suffocating silence enveloping us.

I saw the desire in his dark eyes, and I felt my own.

I hate us for what we turned each other into.

Chase crossed the room in two strides and lifted me up at once.

My thighs locked around his waist, my bare skin against his hot, bare skin.

He pressed my back against the cold, rough wall and captured my lips in a wild, passionate kiss.

“I love you, Grace,” he whispered against my mouth, then pulled off my checked shirt. The cool wall at my back and the desire coiling low in my belly made my nipples harden. I wanted him. Oh, God, I wanted him so much. I yearned for him.

Chase’s lips closed around one of my nipples. He sucked gently while massaging the other. I threw my head back and moaned softly, my hands tangled in his thick, dark hair.

“Chase!”, I moaned. I forgot where I was, that I was a prisoner. The world had shrunk to him and me. Our desire—and his inconceivable obsession with me.

Chase pulled my cotton panties aside and slid two fingers inside me.

I chased the pleasure only he could give me.

Because that feeling was wonderful… not only because it eased the tension in my lower belly, but because when I looked into those dark eyes, the world disappeared—I no longer yearned for sunlight, because I was basking in our love.

…

I don’t know why I focus on these tender memories of him. Why not on all the suffering he caused me? The abuse. The beatings. Is it only me who wanted to see him as a monster? What if he wasn’t? Or does love make me this blind? Can I really forget all the horror he put me through?

My phone rings. I startle, and sweat breaks out across my skin. Cyrus’s name is flashing on the screen. I lift the phone in a hurry. Shame washes over me—my face and ears burning red. My panties are drenched.

Had Cyrus not distracted me, this wouldn’t have been the first time I’d masturbated to my memories.

When I was living with my siblings, I often gave in to those dark desires.

But this time, guilt claws at my chest because I should be fantasizing about Cyrus, not Chase.

About the man I live with, the one I share my everyday life with.

But Chase has become a part of me. A dark part that won’t stop haunting me, won’t stop whispering.

He’s infected my thoughts, my heart, my soul.

My body has never responded to Cyrus the way it does to him, and the orgasms have never even come close to that all-consuming blaze.

I stare at the flashing, buzzing device for a long time.

I glance at the grandfather clock on the wall.

The hands tick eerily, and the ceiling fan stirs the stale air with an unsettling hum.

A wave of heat and disgust shudders through my body.

I pick up the teddy bear, press it against my chest, and clumsily walk into the room.

I set the phone on the nightstand, then sit cross-legged on the bed.

I love Cyrus, but I don’t want to hear his deep, gravelly voice right now.

I run my tongue along my lower lip and keep searching inside the teddy bear.

His message has filled me with a perverse thrill.

I find another note, this one in my handwriting.

My brows furrow in confusion, my lips part slightly.

My heart pounds in my throat, the blood drains from my face—I’m probably as pale as a ghost.

Billy kissed me in the garden. It wasn’t bad, but it didn’t even come close to my kiss with Chase.

That one felt like someone pressing something hot and burning against my skin.

The walls of my imagination were closing in, tossing me around.

That kiss happened a month ago, but I can still taste it on my tongue when I think about it.

“Oh my God!” I clap a hand over my mouth. My words—written down when I was fifteen—slap me in the face.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

I bury my face in the crook of my arm and start sobbing. Nikky can’t be right. I’m not a whore! I wasn’t a whore! I didn’t want Chase to kidnap me! I didn’t… I didn’t want to fall in love with him. But now I get it. Nikky had every right to hate me.