Skylar
He told me blood made him squeamish when we were kids.
I believed him, too because he kept up the pretense for years, always acting terrified whenever anyone had so much as a paper cut.
But there’s no way you can be squeamish around blood and slash your wrists.
Or murder a man.
Or beat the woman you love.
Or threaten to stab her to death.
Self-loathing courses through me, and I close my eyes.
I bought every single lie he ever told me.
Made excuses for his faults.
Defended him to others.
Said yes when I really meant no.
Forgave him whenever he hurt me.
I chose him over everything.
And now, he’s going to kill me.
Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the next day…but he will.
I know it.
I feel it.
And the worst part is, most people will say it’s my own fault.
That I should have left him the first time he did something wrong.
Because no one wants to imagine that you could fall victim to a monster like I did.
Everyone wants to believe they’re smarter, stronger…more vigilant.
But each and every one of us will tell you the same truth.
Our monsters didn’t start off as monsters.
They didn’t come with a warning label.
They didn’t act like villains.
They came disguised as our knight in shining armor, luring us in by giving us what we were missing.
What we always wanted.
And by the time we realized we were trapped…it was too late.
I watch as he paces the bedroom, gripping his phone so hard his knuckles turn white.
From what I can gather, Alexis is on the other line, giving him a list of things to do.
Sorrow floods my chest.
I gave up my dream job for him.
“No. She’s not going to the Grammys.”
Grammy’s? How long have I been trapped here?
“None of your fucking business,” he barks before hanging up.
“When are the Grammys?”
He looks at me like I’m stupid. “In three days.”
That means I’ve been trapped in this room for eighteen.
Even more alarming? He’s scheduled to go back on tour in five weeks.
Is he going to leave me tied up while he’s gone for months?
He snorts a line of coke off a small mirror on the nightstand.
The mirror catches the light just enough to show the hollow stranger staring back at me.
“That cunt is such a pain in the ass,” he mutters.
“Don’t you think someone might ask where I am?”
Once again, he looks at me like I’m a fucking idiot. “I told you, you’re not that important. If anything, everyone will be happy you’re not around. Less bullshit and drama to deal with on our big night.”
Right.
An agitated breath leaves him, and he hitches a shoulder up. “If someone asks, I’ll just tell them we’re…”
“Going through issues?” I offer when his voice trails off.
“I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
No. I’ll have to think of something.
“Okay, but what about the tour? You’ll be gone for months. You can’t just leave me here.”
Dipping his head, he snorts another line. “I don’t have a choice. You haven’t earned my trust.”
I’m beginning to think it’s impossible. Ever since the knife incident, I’ve been on my best behavior.
Clearly, it’s getting me nowhere.
“How am I supposed to earn your trust when you haven’t given me any opportunities to?”
Ugh. I don’t know who I hate more these days. Him or me.
“I’ve given you plenty. Not my fault you keep fucking up.”
“I’ve been good lately.”
I don’t talk back as much.
I don’t protest when he uses my body.
I listen to him drone on about the dumbest shit.
I even managed to calm him down the other night when his dealer was late.
“You’ve been better.” A scowl twists his lips. “But I’m still not taking you with me to the Grammys. I don’t need you running up to the podium and telling the world that I’m handcuffing you to our bed.”
And I don’t need to be his prisoner.
I need fresh air. To feel the sun on my skin. Freedom.
Even if that freedom comes with his invisible chains.
As much as it hurts to admit it, I’d rather be under his thumb than withering away in this house.
I can play the part of his marionette.
I’ve been doing it since I was thirteen.
Only difference is…now I’m in on it.
Ignorance really is bliss.
“That would probably backfire anyway.” I give him a flirty smile. “Half the girls on the planet will wonder what the problem is.”
He sniffs. Wipes some leftover powder off his nose. “True.”
“Look, I don’t want to fight about this. If you say I can’t go, then I can’t.” I avert my gaze, feigning indifference. “Plus, I never got around to getting a dress.”
“Probably because you were too busy getting fucked by my brother.”
And being held captive.
“I messed up.”
“Don’t give me your bullshit, Skylar. I know when you’re lying.”
“You’re right.” I draw a slow breath. “Truth is, you cheated on me all the time, so I didn’t feel any guilt about doing it to you.”
“But—”
“Now I realize it was only sex. It never meant anything more than that…because your heart belongs to me.”
“I fucking told you that.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He pounds the dresser with his fist. “Why did it have to be him?”
Because he’s everything you’re not.
Because he makes me feel like I’m the center of his world, instead of an accessory.
Because he knows my middle name, my favorite foods, my favorite songs.
Because he wants me to grow and pursue my goals, not shrink and hold me back from them.
Because no matter how much it might hurt him, he’d still be willing to lose me if it meant I’d be happy.
But I can’t tell Josh any of that. Instead, I look down and murmur, “I don’t know.”
Falling silent, he peers out the window, his expression somber. Troubled.
“Memphis was always better than me at everything. If I scored a two-pointer, he’d make a slam dunk. If I got a ninety-eight on a test, he’d get a hundred. If I learned how to play a new song, he’d play it ten times better every single time.”
His face screws up. “The fucker even plays bass better than me…and that’s not even his instrument.” A shaky breath leaves him. “The only thing I ever had that he didn’t was you.”
My heart folds in on itself. It’s hard not to feel any compassion for him, but then I remember my bleeding heart is the reason I’m in this situation.
The leash he keeps yanking.
“I’ll stay away from him,” I assure him, because I know what he needs to hear.
“You said that last time.” His head tilts. “How am I supposed to believe you won’t betray me again?”
I give him the truth.
“I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I’ve been handcuffed to this bed for eighteen days, and aside from one phone call from Storm asking about lipstick, no one has asked about me…because no one gives a shit.”
There’s no best friend wondering where I am.
No parents worried about their daughter.
No boss calling to find out why I’m not showing up to work.
No Memphis riding in on a white horse to save me.
I’m all alone.
“You could kill me, and no one would miss me.”
It’s what makes me the perfect prey.
There’s a sinister glint in his eye. “I know.”
“Give me one more chance. I won’t screw it up.”
I can’t.
“I’ll do everything you want. If I mess up—” He glares. “I won’t, but if I do, I know the consequence.”
Anger shadows his face, like he’s waging a war within himself. “I swear to God, Skylar. Stab me in the back again and I will fuck up your life…and then take it with my bare hands.”
I know.
“Understood.”
That sinister glint is back. “I mean it. I wasn’t kidding about planting that note with your uncle.”
The very last piece of my heart shatters.
There was no little boy who shared my demons.
No little boy who saw me from a window and wanted to save me.
No little boy who killed my monster.
I’ve always been his pawn.
A trophy he could show off and taunt his brother with.
A damaged little girl who still managed to give him every bit of love she had inside her.
The toy he could pull apart and reassemble however he pleased.
“I’m yours, Josh. All yours.”
His jaw flexes as he mulls it over. “He doesn’t love you, Skylar. Not like I do.”
“I don’t think anyone could ever love me the way you do.”
Because it’s not love.
It’s poison.
Destructive. Toxic. Fatal.
“If I agree to give you another chance, then I want something in return.”
Of course, he does.
“What?”
“We’re getting married next week.”
A steel cord wraps around my lungs, pulling tight. Suffocating me.
I’d rather drive a rusty screwdriver in my eye and swallow battery acid than be his wife.
But it’s the only way out of this house.
I plaster a smile on my face that I pray looks sincere. “I can’t wait.”
A resigned sigh leaves him as he swipes his phone off the dresser.
“Hey, Alexis. Change of plans. Skylar’s coming, but she’ll need a dress. Know any last-minute designers that will give her one?”
His scrutinizing gaze sweeps over every inch of my body as he paces. “No, she won’t be able to make a fitting, but she’s a six. Actually, go with the next size down. She’s been dieting the past few weeks and finally lost some of that baby fat.”
I fight the urge to kick him in the teeth. Especially when he pulls down his zipper and gestures for me to take care of him.
“She’s about to put something in her mouth right now, though. Aren’t you, baby?”
Humiliation and disgust crash over me as I part my lips, giving him what he wants.
“No, not red. I like her in pink. Something that makes her look hot but classy. I don’t need people calling my fiancée a whore.”
And just like that…the strings tighten.
I’m his puppet again.