Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Melissa
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper after draining my third glass of rum. “You know,” my fingers grasp the bottle, pouring more of the potent liquid, “that doesn't exactly surprise me.”
Laughter bubbles from her as she slides her glass toward me for a refill. “Of course, I didn't take my own advice. I ended up sleeping with him again a few years later. Hella is like a red wine stain, ya know? He just won't hesitate to remind people that he's been there.”
I smile. “I can't comment on the decisions one's vagina makes once it's had a taste of him.”
We both burst out laughing, tears streaking down our face.
I swipe at my cheeks as the sound dies in my throat. “I think I'm drunk.”
Jada nods. “Me too. Your sister usually sleep this long?”
“I wasn’t asleep.” Millie stretches her arms up from behind us. “I was just waiting for you to finish your story—which is disgusting, by the way—before I came back in here.”
I beam. “Not even sorry. If that's the most action you're ever going to get, I'll gladly tell Jada to share more stories about her sex life.”
“Oh no,” Jada's laughter spills between her words. “I want to hear about yours.”
The front door opens, and my eyes widen at Jada. “Is it?”
She shrugs.
I glance down at my tight polka-dot tank top and little yoga shorts—my ass cheeks practically spilling out from under them.
Hella walks into the kitchen, and my eyes slam shut before I mouth, “Fuck.”
“What?” His grin stretches wide. “What'd I walk in on right now?”
“Oh, just secret girl stuff.” Jada takes a sip of her rum.
“I think I'm buzzed beyond return,” the words tumble out absently. “It's barely nine a.m. and I'm drunk. It's happened, I've fallen. I've reached rock-bottom.”
Hella's eyes dart to Jada. “The fuck?” He swipes the rum off the table and stretches to place it on top of the fridge.
“Jeez, Melissa,” Millie clicks her tongue. “You're reminding me of—”she hesitates. “Some shit just doesn’t change.”
“HA!” I point to Millie, ignoring her almost jab at my obvious alcoholism from our father. “I knew you were my sister. You just cursed!”
Millie's eyes roll skyward. She whips around to face Hella. “This is your fault.”
Hella's brow furrows as he looks down at her. “How's this my fault? I only just walked in the door.”
“The story of you being Jada's first time sent her over the edge.”
The colour drains from Hella's face. “Oh, shit.”
I begin laughing again, my finger stabbing the air toward his pale face. “Oh, now, now. It wasn't that bad. Who wants to hear about my first time?” My hands shoot up, waving frantically like a kid whose teacher just asked who knows the answer to two plus two.
Millie's fingers curl around my wrist, squeezing just enough to anchor me in place. “No, Melissa. Shut up.”
My smile dies mid-chuckle. What the fuck. I need to never drink rum again.
“Sorry,” I mumble, chair legs scraping against the floor as I push back from the table. “I need a shower.”
I rush upstairs, slamming the bathroom door closed and flicking the lock behind me. God, I'm such an idiot. Stepping backwards, the rim of the toilet seat hits my leg when the first tear strolls down my cheek. My hand flies up to my mouth to stop my sob.
“Melissa?” There's a light knock on the door. Of course they followed me.
“Go away, Millie.” I hiccup, trying to sound as normal as possible.
A thunderous pound rattles the door frame, enough to make the metal locks shudder. “Baby? Open the door.”
“Baby?” Jada's snort cuts through the air. “I fucking knew it!” Her voice rings with drunken triumph. My hands curl into fists—if I strangle her now, the alcohol might slow her reflexes enough that I'd actually stand a chance.
“Fuck off, Jada. Take your drunk ass to the kitchen and eat some food,” Hella orders.
Millie's knuckles brush the door again. “Open the door, Lissa. Please! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so...” Her voice trails off, shame colouring her words.
I scrub the hand towel over my cheeks before fumbling with the lock, the click sounding too loud in the tight space.
I yank the door open before Hella can smash it to pieces.
“I'm fine,” I force out, the words scraping my throat as I choke down another sob.
Hella’s grip closes on Millie’s arm, firm but careful, and he ushers us both into the cramped bathroom. The door slams behind us with a heavy thud as his boot drives it shut. My legs tremble, giving way, and I drop onto the closed toilet lid.
“Talk,” he growls, the single word a command that hangs heavy in the stale air.
My eyes close. Shit. Fuck. This could go very badly. “It doesn't matter.”
“The fuck it doesn't!” He tears the cap off his head, fingers clawing into his hair, yanking at the strands.
I wince, my hands knotting together in my lap.
His chest rises and falls, while Millie and I stay locked in stillness.
Then the fire in him seems to gutter out.
He sags against the door, sliding down slow until he hits the floor with a dull thump.
“I know that look on a woman, when something—or someone—has fucked her up. Usually, I’m the bastard responsible. Speak.”
I meet his gaze, watching the hurt and confusion pool over his face.
Our stares lock. “I didn't have a very good first time.”
His chin jerks once, then again, waiting for me. The bathroom walls feel tighter, like they’re squeezing in, the rum still buzzing through my blood. Something about being caged here with them tears at my guard. “Except Jada let you claim hers.”
All the air leaves him in a sharp hiss, his head falling back against the door as his Adam's apple works against whatever he's swallowing down. His eyes fix on the ceiling tiles above us, that dangerous stillness settling over his features—the kind that makes my skin crawl.
“Did someone touch you who shouldn't have?” The words slip out quiet and measured, too controlled. His gaze stays locked overhead. “Answer me, Melissa, and don't lie to me.”
“Not just someone,” I whisper as tears drop onto my thigh, each one burning like acid. “Four.” The word catches, strangled somewhere between my throat and chest.
Hella pushes off the wall, closing the distance between us.
Millie sobs. I know why. I've never told anyone outside of her and my mother. I'd worn the shame in private, tucked away where no one could see.
His grip finds my chin, turning my face to meet his stare. “I'm fucking sorry, baby.” His lips graze mine, soft in a way that hurts more than it heals. “But I need those names,” he says low, right against my mouth.
He eases back just enough to lock eyes, that hard edge in his gaze pulling the air from my lungs. “I'm not playing. Give me those names. No one touches what's mine and keeps breathing.”
Panic pulls me to my feet. “No!” The word bursts from my mouth like a bullet. “No, Hella. It's done. It was a long time ago now.”
Millie's voice drops to a barely audible murmur. “That was only half of it” What the fuck is she doing! “And it's not that long ago.”
My gaze snaps downward, eyes narrowing to slits as I stare daggers at her. “Millie, shut up.”
“No.” She pushes herself up from the floor, knees trembling as she rises.
“You've carried this too long.” Her fist swipes across her cheeks, smearing tears and mascara.
“I kept lighting candles, kept kneeling at that altar, kept begging—” Her voice cracks.
“But heaven stayed silent while they walked free.”
She turns toward Hella, her shoulders squaring. “Maybe he sent you instead.”
“Millie!” The word cracks like a whip.
I don't think she actually realizes the violence that lives within this man. She's probably assuming he's the typical guy who finds something out about his girl being touched and threatens to kill the people who did it—but when Hella says those words, they already taste like blood.
He releases me before dropping down to my sister.
“Tell me,” he whispers, voice soft.
My muscles coil tight as the weight of what I've unleashed settles.
I sink back onto the trusted toilet seat, my palm cutting through the air between us.
“Wait. If she does this, Hella, you don't get those names. Or else I walk away right now. I need someone in control.” My eyes lock with his. “Show me you have it.”
His jaw clenches until the tendons stand out like cables, but he gives Millie a single nod. “Continue.”
“She got pregnant,” Millie continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “They—we don't know which one—impregnated her that night. One day she had gone to the drug store to buy a test when she bumped into their ringleader. He saw her test and walked out. She thought nothing of it.”
Her hands tremble as she continues. “Cutting a long story short, they all cornered her and beat her within an inch of her life. She was on life support for two weeks.”
Tears streak down Millie's face as she continues. “Anyway, pressing charges against them wasn't an option. Melissa refused to have her name dragged through the media, and mum simply couldn't afford the legal battle. Dad's death left us with nothing to survive on. The risk was too big.”
Hella's fist explodes into the wall, plaster cracking around the dark crater where his knuckles disappear.
I flinch, my body jerking backward.
She opens her mouth, but I step forward, back into her.
His chest rises and falls in sharp, violent rhythms, each breath scraping through his throat like broken glass.
“Out,” I growl. “I'll talk to you when I'm sober.”
As soon as she’s out, my palm finds the rigid muscles between his shoulder. “Hux?” The word barely passes my lips.
He turns around and slumps against the wall, his gaze cutting straight through me like I'm not even there.