Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Madelyn
There’s nothing in life that prepared me for the moment I make eye contact with a set of lifeless eyeballs.
Nor the fact that I’m still cuffed and wrapped in a blanket while sitting next to a creep in my own vehicle.
But that’s not even the worst part. It’s the fact that my head apparently found its way to his shoulder while I was asleep.
I flinch before trying to put as much space between us as possible.
My eyes shift, trying to find something-anything-to focus on that doesn’t have the capacity to stare back.
I settle on the sunrise outside my window.
Daylight peeks over the horizon in shades of orange and pink. I must have slept through the night. The thought scares me. I don’t understand how I slept when the last thing I muttered was monster.
I notice his attention shift from the road to me. “Did you miss me?”
Speaking of…just his voice alone is enough to aggravate every fiber of my being. “Not even a little,” I answer, voice nonchalant. Taking a chance, I glance and find him staring me down.
His lips curl slightly, and if I didn’t know any better, I would assume that was supposed to be a smile.
One hand goes from the steering wheel to my chest; its destination is obvious.
I suck in a breath as his finger moves the blanket aside to brush against my exposed nipple.
“I’ve missed you,” he says as he pulls until my nipple hardens.
My eyes connect with those that have called my dashboard home. “Looks like you’ve had plenty of things to keep your mind off me.”
His hand remains planted. “Only for a short time.”
“I don’t want to know,” I respond as the car suddenly jolts.
We barrel over a pothole. My ass leaps out of the seat as soon as I notice the eyes slipping off the dash.
The pair go sailing through the air only to land on the seat between Jackson and me.
Nausea forms in the pit of my stomach at what this person went through.
“Can you please get rid of the fucking eyes? Jesus.”
Jackson lets me go to grab them. “Worried you are seeing your future?” he asks, demeanor playful.
Perhaps he’s trying to make me feel better by using a different tone than usual.
However, the effect sends a chill down my spine.
I can’t read him this way because this is the first time I’ve witnessed a positive emotion coming out of his mouth that’s not riddled with an orgasm.
“You didn’t say anything about cutting me up and keeping the pieces. ”
He tosses the eyes in the backseat. “I didn’t cut him up. I dug out his sockets and kept a souvenir.”
I pull my lips into a thin line. “Well, that makes me feel better.”
“It’s not supposed to,” he says, voice low.
“The eyes serve a purpose. But you suggest a very interesting idea. If I were to keep a part of you to serve me, which body part should I take?” His hand goes to my cheek before roughly claiming my mouth.
“This hole?” Blood rushes to my lips, causing them to swell.
A thumb slips inside my mouth to rub the inside of my cheek.
I try to close my eyes to zone out again, but the ache between my legs makes it impossible to escape.
In one quick motion, he pulls from my mouth only to land my thighs. “Or your pretty little wet cunt?”
I force myself to swallow and push my legs together.
Not now. I just got my mind back. Even if my body is betraying me, it’s my sanity that needs to stay intact.
If he fucks me so soon after coming apart, there won’t be a wall I can build that he can’t break down.
“I’m weak,” I let the statement slip and hate myself for it.
His fingers tap at my thigh before going back to gripping the wheel. His knuckles turn white from the pressure. “Tell me what Oliver did to you,” Jackson says with venom oozing to the surface.
“What?” I say, taken aback by the sudden shift. The last thing I want to do is tell him what all happened. It could make me spiral again.
Jackson sighs, jaw clenching. “Don’t make me say it again.”
Does it really matter? I want to say. Jackson doesn’t seem to be one that cares about specifics. Plus, he already knows how to weaken me because I stupidly showed my hand already.
As if reading my mind, Jackson interjects, “If you want me to kill him, I need to know more.”
I shake my head. “You are impulsive. You never need to know anything before you act. Why now?”
Jackson’s attention wavers from the road. The air between us morphs into a type of boundless energy. Anger reaps from it along with restlessness. The sensation almost takes my breath away.
“Because,” he whispers, “I need to fucking know why those two words eradicate your fighter spirit, and I highly suspect your stepfather is the reason behind it.”
I pull the blanket tighter around me, and my eyes find the floor. I can’t look at him. “Can I please just have my clothes back?” The thought of sharing the events of my past will lay my mind bare. I would prefer to at least not have some part of me so exposed.
“You’ve got to earn those back,” he replies.
I take the hint. Tell him what he wants, and I may get what I need.
Of course. Heat returns to my cheeks and with it the desire to tell him to fuck off, but then I realize that is probably want he wants.
My fighter spirit apparently gets his cock hard, which is something unnerving but especially curious.
“Fine,” I say, while trying to sound neutral and in control.
“The gist of it is this…” I swallow, the voices inside my head screaming for me to stop.
“Oliver married my mom when I was ten. For a time, things were what anyone would expect. Mom seemed happy. I was content. But…” my voice wavers, thinking back.
“When I turned thirteen, Oliver changed. Every night before bed, he would demand…hugs. Which soon turned into kisses on the cheek.” I force myself to take long breaths before continuing.
“My body was changing as it was the natural order of things. I.. I didn’t want to because it felt wrong,” I mumble.
Queasiness hits my stomach. “He didn’t care.
He just kept saying how good of a girl I was. ”
“What did your mother do about this?” Jackson interrupts, the seriousness in his voice making me jump.
Pain radiates through my chest at her name. “I never told her.”
“Your father?” Jackson moves to another adult to place blame.
I shrug. This one I don’t mind talking about because there’s nothing to say. “Never knew him.”
Jackson’s hand swipes to turn on the blinker. According to the nearest road sign, we have a mile to the nearest exit. I can only assume that we will take it. “I see. Go on.” His tone is in no way comforting.
Heat slowly rises from my neck to my cheeks. “I think you can figure out what happened after my mom died. What little reservations Oliver had were gone with Mom out of the way.”
“How many times?” Jackson murmurs. I turn to see his eyes are on the road, but he might as well be miles away.
I pull the blanket even tighter around my shoulders. “Just once,” I whisper. “After my mom’s funeral.” My stomach turns, and with it a feeling of shame that rises to the surface. Tears form, threatening to break down any remaining barriers I had in place.
Jackson merges the car off the exit and stops near a sign that says we are entering national park territory.
Turning right, we take a country road that takes us further into the wooded area.
I lose it then, concluding he’s taking me somewhere I’ll never be found.
Someone like him doesn’t need me or the money or the trouble.
Especially now that I have confirmed Oliver is not much different than him.
The tears fall hard, releasing all the guilt and shame I have felt since it happened.
“He was gentle and full of praise,” I murmur.
“Good girl, while fucking me.” I wipe my face with the blanket.
“Like he loved me. Like what he was doing was something I liked too.”
A lake comes into view just as the road ends.
The sunrise shines down on the water, making it appear inviting, even though the water is bound to be cold.
Mature trees surround the area, only allowing for small walking trails to weave through them.
Jackson cuts the car off and turns to me.
“That’s why you left and why he wants you back?
” he asks. His voice is flat, as if he’s the one trying to control himself.
“Yes. Happy now?” I lean my head against the car window to control all the emotions going through me.
“Not especially,” he replies through clenched teeth.
The tone in his voice makes it appear that he blames me for what happened. Which is ridiculous, but not at all surprising. “Don’t do that,” I say.
Jackson unhooks his seatbelt to face me, eyes narrowing. “Don’t do what?”
Heat rises to my face. He’s playing dumb in which I know he’s not. “Blame me.”
His jaw tightens before a smirk appears. “I’m not.”
The look on his face is enough to make me crack.
Of course, he finds this whole thing amusing.
My suffering. My pain. The panic I feel when those words are said.
The longer I gaze at him, the more irate I get.
The more I want to dig into my subconscious and rip the roots of trauma out.
The more I want to feel something besides shame, even if it kills me.
Even if the rest of my walls come crumbling down in the process.
Jackson’s face turns dangerous. “Come back to me, little fire.”
“You don’t get to blame me. Not after what you’ve done!” I yell, voice breaking. I draw my hand back to slap him with my free hand, but Jackson catches me in a grip that nearly breaks my fingers.
“There you are.” He leans closer while letting my hand go. “Show me more.”
I know if I do, it will only provoke him more. “You’ll kill me now that you know Oliver’s side,” I say for my own confirmation.
He shakes his head. “No.” His fingers find my hair at the base of my skull. Pulling slightly, he murmurs, “I won’t.”
My heart rate picks up and continues to climb until I can feel drumming in my neck.
Jackson’s grip tightens as he stares me down.
Pools of gold meet the black in his pupils.
He’s waiting for me to say something. Anything but my brain is having trouble saying the words.
I swallow, forcing down the intensity of the emotions that threaten to spew out.
A small, mocking laugh escapes my lips. “You can’t cure the effects of what my stepfather did by doing the same thing. ”
“Then don’t give me a reason to test that theory again.
” He breathes into me, sending goosebumps down my neck.
Letting go of my hair, he uncuffs my wrist and throws the cuffs in the backseat.
No words pass between us, but they don’t have to.
His eyes track down to my breasts before finding my face.
I shudder at his intensity. At the way, he builds confidence.
This is really a test. I can try to run again.
Jackson fully expects me to. It’s all the reason he needs to act on his impulses and prove me wrong.
I close my eyes to block him out. In the silence, thoughts of my stepfather creep back in.
It’s an unavoidable nightmare. Old wounds burst open, spewing pain and guilt.
The aftermath grips around my heart, threatening to take what little piece of me is left.
Oliver can not have it. And maybe Jackson doesn’t need it either, but right now I’d do anything to erase what it felt like when Oliver took advantage of a girl mourning her mother.
I breathe in through my nose to gather myself. Everything is closing in. Shrinking…fading…but this time I will not let it. I will not let him control my mind. This time, I will make a choice. I will run to break free.