Chapter Twenty-Three
Tanner
“The fuck you doing, boy?” It takes everything in me not to talk back to my uncle. For the last two weeks, ever since I was dragged here by Social Services, I’ve been chopping a whole bunch of wood for the winter.
“I’m chopping, like you asked.” Maybe he didn’t see the ax I’m barely able to lift or the log that’s as big as my whole upper body.
“That ain’t what I taught you, boy. You’re splitting like a goddamn pussy.
Jesus Christ, no wonder your parents beat you.
” His insults don’t make me flinch like the first two days after I arrived, when they were followed by a leather belt to my back and shoulders.
They do make me clench my teeth so hard it hurts my newly grown molars.
What I don’t do is argue. Last time I did that, he pushed my head into the toilet and flushed. My whole body fought to survive, but at the same time, I was hoping to just die and get this life over with.
Not anymore.
Not since five days ago.
Beatings I’ll take. Choking when I chew too loudly I’ll survive. The cigarette burns when he’s bored, fine. But five days ago he went too far, and that night I decided I would bide my time, wait for the perfect opportunity.
“You disrespecting me?” Here we go again.
“No, sir.” Standing straight, my spine rigid, I don’t look away as he comes stomping my way. I’ve learned there’s a balance between seeming weak and, as he constantly repeats, manly. Anything outside that small window between the two and I’m getting a beating.
“Better not be or else you’ll know what pain really is.
” As if I don’t already. The first time he took a belt to me I cried…
a lot. Since then, I refuse to let him win.
My pop has a heavy hand, but his brother is lethal.
Not only does he hit hard, but he’s quick to find the soft spots, the body parts that hurt the most. Like behind the knee when I’m not expecting it.
On the side of my waist with a baseball bat.
I’m surprised I’m still standing after sixteen days, three hours, and twenty-two minutes. But who’s counting, right?
I am, obviously.
“Yes, sir.” I lift the ax and put every ounce of my strength into it.
The blade hits smack in the center and two perfect halves fall apart and onto the green grass.
Any other time, I would have celebrated this accomplishment.
Instead, I barely allow a corner of my mouth to tilt up in my own private moment of pride. Fuck him.
That’s also new. The cursing. He does it so much that it’s worn off on me like red dye on white clothes.
Yes, I do my own laundry. And his. I also cook, clean, and repair anything that’s broken down. And in this dump in the middle of the woods, everything needs fixing.
“About fucking time you got one right. Now finish your chores and start dinner. I’m fucking starving.”
Of course I’m cooking tonight, and I hope he chokes on it.
“If you’re a good boy, Uncle Tony will make you feel good again.
” At his words, my body freezes for half a second before I push through as though he’d said nothing.
Ignoring his veiled threat—disturbing promise—I finish off my chores and throw a few ingredients together and call it supper.
Tonight, I only burned myself twice and sliced my thumb once with the knife as I tried cutting the potatoes exactly how he likes them.
I left some of my blood, then smeared it until it became impossible to see.
Him choking on my blood would be awesome.
By the time nine o’clock rolls around, I’m exhausted.
Locking the door to my room even though it won’t stop him, I brush my teeth in the sink in the far corner.
When I first arrived, he was proud to explain that he’d converted the attached shed into a bedroom for his guests.
I don’t think the remodel cost him very much since he just pushed all his stuff to one side and added a kid-sized bed against the opposite wall.
As soon as I lie down, my mind wanders to my parents.
I know better than to think they miss me.
They’re too busy paying attention to themselves and each other.
The law of the land was that I had to be neither seen nor heard, and for someone like me, who has a lot of energy, it meant I broke that rule all the time.
That’s when the beatings got harder and more frequent.
Which brings me to my little neighbor. My ex best friend. The traitor and reason I’m here wishing to die.
She used to be my Sweet Bee but now she’s my greatest enemy, my very own Voldemort.
Everything was great until she opened her big, fat, mouth.
Sure, the bruises were getting harder and harder to hide, but spending time with her was my escape.
My parents didn’t give a shit where I went as long as I didn’t cause trouble.
Every day after school I’d hang out with Berkleigh, forget that I lost the lottery for decent parents, and enjoy the delicious home-cooked meals her mother made for us. Her dad worked a lot but he was nice enough.
Then everything changed.
“Where’d you get that?” Berkleigh pointed to my collarbone where a black and red circle marked the newest bruise from that morning.
“I bumped into the footrest of the bed. No big deal.” All lies. It was a big deal because it hurt and it was the perfect imprint of Dad’s thumb.
Next thing I knew, Child Protective Services were knocking down my door on that Saturday morning demanding I go with them.
How the fuck is this better?
Sure, Uncle Tony acts like he’s the perfect parent when CPS comes around, telling them I’m a “fine young boy” and a “hard worker, eager to help out around the house”.
Right, like I have a choice.
Wetness brings me back to the small, makeshift, room and I realize in horror that I’m crying. If Uncle Tony comes in and sees me, he’ll beat me to within an inch of my life.
Jumping out of bed, even though I’d rather just fall asleep for a day or ten, I freeze when the door handle jiggles. It’ll take him two seconds to unlock it, I know because this has become our routine.
Wiping my cheeks off with my pajama sleeves, I debate whether to run back to bed or stand my ground. Either way, it’s going to hurt.
I wake with a start, my aching torso bolting from the mattress as if an electric shock literally kicked me out of bed. It takes me a few painful seconds to realize I’m not eleven years old and I’m not back in that shed with age-worn hungry eyes leering at me like I’m prey.
My fists are gripping the sheets tightly enough to rip them to shreds and my chest is fighting for much-needed air. I know I should breathe, I’m not a fucking idiot, but the memory still fresh in my hazy mind is pushing back.
“Tanner?” The voice is a little distorted and sounds like a mixture of two moments in my life. Then and now. Him and…
“Yeah.” I clear my throat as my senses come back to the present, blinking against the darkness.
It’s her scent that steadies me, her warm touch that I welcome.
“Are you okay? Bad dream?” Fuck, she has no idea.
“Something like that.” Once I’m able to breathe normally, I turn, and like a sliver of magic, the moonlight ray pierces through the slightly opened curtain and illuminates her sleepy face. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
She’s about to roll her eyes, like waking up in the middle of the night is somehow incompatible with beauty.
I frown as my eyes scan every inch of her skin.
In this light, she looks almost ethereal, and like a tsunami that follows an earthquake, the memories from the last twenty-four hours come crashing down on me.
She was taken, held captive. My gaze dips to her bruised ribs, visible only because she’s gloriously naked in my bed. Our bed. Our home. Where she’ll stay because there’s no fucking world where she’s going back to the hellhole she used to call home. It was void of life, just like mine was.
Not anymore.
“Hey…” Her fingers graze my brows like she’s trying to smooth them out. “Why are you scowling?”
It’s when she follows my line of sight that she understands.
“It’s over. You’re okay, I’m okay. Let’s just forget it.” Her fingers slide from my brow to my jaw, where she applies enough pressure for me to raise my head. Eye to eye, I drown a little in the twin pools of her deep blue eyes.
It’s then that I really breathe. That I take in enough air to bring me back to life. She’s right, she’s okay and safe in my arms and that’s enough. For now.
With a newfound buzzing just beneath my skin, my hand shoots out and my fingers curl around her fragile neck. Hands that have killed without a second thought are the same hands that will hold her down while I fuck her hard enough to imprint myself onto and into her.
I flip on the light and get my first unfiltered look at her since I woke up.
She doesn’t fight me as I push her back down on the mattress. Without hesitation, she spreads her thighs as I take my rightful place between them, my dick hard and hyperfocused on one singular destination.
When I sink inside her, we both sigh like we’d been holding our breaths this whole time.
I forget the abduction, the bruises, the men I’d love to kill all over again just to satisfy my urges for death and destruction. My baser instincts are on high alert, my need to fuck her hard enough to leave my own bruises on her takes over.
“I need you to move. Please, Tanner.”
I hum at her begging. “When I do move, you may regret it.” I pull back until the tip is the only part of me touching her, save for my hand around her throat.
“Try me.”
A grin as sinister as any anti-hero worth his salt forms across my mouth just as I slam right back inside her. She gasps and just the sound has my dick twitching, all buried and snug inside her hot little cunt.
My hips get into a rhythm that’s as hot as it is fucking brutal. The bed is creaking and the headboard is slamming into the wall with every thrust I give her.