He’s Everywhere
Aviana
Sitting beneath the Oak tree, I am consumed by the ache of my own tears, memories of that night in the barn, the pain Liam caused me, flooding my heart. I sit, lost in my sorrow, waiting for something—anything—when I hear his voice.
“Little Bird,” he calls softly, laced with concern. “What happened?”
In an instant, I spring to my feet, my emotions overwhelming me. I throw myself into his arms, my body trembling with the weight of my grief. “Nightshade!” I cry out, my voice breaking, desperate for him to understand the depths of my hurt.
“Make the pain stop. Make him disappear,” I plead, my voice trembling with desperation.
“Who, Little Bird? Who hurt you? Was it Cade? What did he do?”
“It wasn’t Cade,” I gasp, my breath hitching as the memories crash over me, raw and vivid. “It was Liam. The memories are so fresh, so sharp, and they won’t leave me. I close my eyes, and there he is. I hear him, I feel him… I can even smell him.”
“Come with me, Little Bird,” he urges gently, his hand reaching out to me. “Let’s go back to my place.”
I pull back, frustration and fear boiling inside me. “Are you going to let me go with you willingly, or are you going to drug me again?” My fist slams into his chest, the anger and hurt mingling inside me.
“No, Little Bird. I won’t sedate you,” he says softly.
** *
We walked through a maze of trees and other empty cabins before his cabin finally came into view. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, tilting my head with forced nonchalance. “So,” I drawl, “what’s the plan this time? Gonna tie me to the table again?”
His steps falter, just slightly, before he recovers, his pace steady as ever. “Do you want me to?” His voice is smooth, laced with amusement, but I don’t miss the sharp edge beneath it.
I scoff, masking the way my pulse quickens. “Hard pass, thanks. Twice was enough.”
A shiver runs down my spine, but I refuse to let him see it. Instead, I cross my arms, cocking a brow. “So, what’s it gonna be, Nightshade? Another lesson in fear, control, or are you just dragging me here for the fun of it?”
He tilts his head, considering me. Then, with an infuriating smirk, he pushes open the door. “Why don’t you come inside and find out?”
“Are you going to tell me what you have planned, or do I have to guess?” I ask, a small hint of curiosity in my voice.
“That could actually be fun,” he says with a smirk.
“Nightshade?” My voice is barely above a whisper, a mix of uncertainty and intrigue.
He pauses, his voice dropping lower. “Do you want to do this, Little Bird? If not, I’ll take you back right now. I won’t make you stay here.”
I bite my lip, fighting the wave of emotions crashing inside me. “Do I have the correct Nightshade? The other one told me I was his… that he’d mark me up and make sure everyone knew no one else could touch me. But you—you’re letting me go if I ask?”
His hand curls around mine, and he growls softly, the sound a mix of desire and something darker. “Little Bird, baby…”
He gently pulls his hands from mine, the warmth of his touch slipping away as he slowly walks away from me. A pang of emptiness washes over me, and without thinking,
“Little Bird, be good.”
I pause, feeling a surge of defiance rise within me. “Or what?” I tease, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns, his tone both serious and intense.
“Then play with me,” I challenge, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me. “I need to put my mind somewhere else.” I want him, need him to distract me from the storm raging inside me.
“Tell me, Little Bird… what did Liam do to you?” His voice softens, but there’s an undeniable edge to it.
I hesitate, my throat tightening as the memories threaten to choke me. I don’t want to relive that night, but something in his voice pulls me in, urging me to speak. Slowly, I begin to recount the events of that night in the barn, when I thought everyone was asleep, and all I could do was pray for the darkness to swallow me whole. My voice quivers, and each word feels like it rips open a wound that was never allowed to heal.
***
Past
Age 15
He sliced through my pants with the pruning shears, the cold metal cutting through fabric as easily as if it were paper. I heard the sickening thud as they hit the barn floor, but I couldn’t scream, couldn’t make a sound—my body was frozen in terror. All I could do was cry, my tears falling helplessly down my cheeks, my chest heaving with each sob.
In the midst of my crying, he scooped me up in his arms, holding me like I was nothing more than a fragile doll, and carried me back to the stall where we had been before. The world felt distant, unreal, like I was trapped inside a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. He laid me down gently, but his touch made my skin crawl .
With as much attitude as I could muster, I spat out, “Why the need to be gentle now, asshole?”
His smirk was cold, almost mocking. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble, Little Screamer. Now be a good girl for me, will you?”
The words made bile rise to my throat, the phrase almost making me gag. I had to find a way out of this. I was too far from the shears, too far from any hope of escape. My heart pounded in my chest as I searched the stall with frantic eyes, but there was nothing.
“A penny for your thoughts?” His voice was too calm, too smug.
“Why do you care?” My voice shook, despite my attempts to hide it.
“I don’t, actually,” he said, the smirk stretching across his face like it was the most satisfying thing in the world. The urge to slap it off him was overwhelming, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
I crossed my arms over my chest, my resolve hardening into something I barely recognized. But before I could even blink, he grabbed my arms, forcing them above my head with an unexpected strength. My breath caught in my throat as I realized he had rope in his back pocket, and without hesitation, he bound my wrists together.
“Liam!” My voice cracked with desperation, but he just looked at me like I was nothing.
“Yes, Little Screamer,” he said, his tone dripping with cruel amusement. “Beg me.”
“Let me go!” I shouted, the words choked out through my fury, and I spat right in his face, my heart hammering in my chest.
The slap that landed across my face was like fire—burning, sharp, unforgiving. My head whipped to the side, and the sting exploded in my vision, but it didn’t stop me. I clenched my jaw, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.
“Damn you, bitch!” His voice is venomous as he wipes my spit off his face, his hand shaking with fury.
I try to steady myself, my heart pounding so loudly I can hardly hear my own voice. “Let me go, or I will scream,” I threaten, but the words feel hollow, like they can’t even escape my lips. My hands are trembling, and my body feels so small, so helpless.
He laughs darkly, and the sound makes my skin crawl. “Go ahead,” he taunts. “No one will hear you all the way out here. And who put themselves in this position? You did. I saw you walk right up.”
I freeze, my stomach churning. The realization hits like a slap, and I can barely breathe. “So whatever you do to me tonight will be premeditated.”
His grin widens, twisted and cold. “Little Screamer, I don’t plan on murdering you,” he says, his tone low and filled with dark amusement. “But I do need that warm pussy of yours to satisfy my hunger.”
The words slice through me, my stomach turning in disgust and fear. “You are sick, you know that?” The venom in my voice feels weak, not enough to cover the dread seeping into my bones. I want to fight, to scream, but my throat is tight, my body paralyzed.
His eyes narrow as he steps closer, the smirk never leaving his face. “I could actually be sick,” he says with a cold glint in his eyes. “So I guess you can cure me by first allowing me to take these off.” as he slips my panties off and over my feet.
“Liam, I don’t want this. Please don’t do this,” I plead, my voice shaking with a mix of fear and desperation, but it feels like my words are swallowed by the air around us, useless.
He leans in, his breath cold against my skin as he smirks. “What are you going to do, huh? Go tell mommy and daddy that their son made you feel the most incredible you’ve ever felt?” His words are laced with mockery, like he’s savoring my terror.
“Go to hell,” I snap, my voice trembling, but I can’t stop the flood of panic that rises in my chest.
He chuckles darkly, a sound that chills me to the bone. “I’m already there. Want to join me on my throne, Little Screamer?” His grin is vicious as he begins stripping down, his movements slow and deliberate. My heart races, every instinct screaming at me to run, to escape, but being tied up, I know I can’t.
Before he tosses his pants aside, he reaches into another pocket. I flinch, my mind racing in terror. How many pockets does he have? My thoughts scramble as the weight of the situation crashes over me. Each movement, each sound, each new tool he pulls out only deepens my dread. The room feels like it’s closing in around me, and I can barely breathe, paralyzed by the fear of what’s coming next.
“What is that?” I whisper, my voice trembling as I nod toward the tool he’s holding—a curved tool with a brush on the end and on top of that brush is a metal hook, something that sends a chill crawling up my spine.
He looks down at it, a twisted smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, this little thing?” He lifts it into the air, inspecting it like it’s some kind of prize, as if he’s enjoying the fear in my eyes. “This is a horseshoe pick. I was going to show you how to use it on Blaze over there,” he says, his voice too calm, too pleased with himself. “But I think I found a better use for it.”
My breath hitches, my entire body freezing as the horror of his words sinks in. I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I stare at the sharp edge in his grip. My stomach lurches, bile rising in my throat. I can’t move, can’t look away from that tool, the promise of what he might do with it filling me with a paralyzing terror. Every second feels like it stretches on forever, and I’m suffocating under the weight of it.
***
Breaking into loud sobs, “He raped me with the damn horseshoe pick. He shoved it so deep and kept telling me he wanted to hear me scream, but I wouldn’t satisfy him. I tried to do anything but cry and scream. Every time he would push harder and deeper. My thighs felt really wet and I was embarrassed thinking he was actually turning me on. It turned out to be blood from his hand being cut open by the metal pick. It seemed to make him angrier and he would pick up the pace until I finally came all over the pick and his hand.”
Without even realizing it, my hands were already unbuttoning my clothes.
“Whoa, Little Bird, what’s going on? ”
“I feel so filthy… I need to get him off me, Nightshade. He’s everywhere, crawling under my skin.”
He pulled me into his arms, his voice soft but firm. “Come here, Little Bird.”
I let him lift me, carrying me through the cabin, as if I weighed nothing at all.
“Please, Nightshade… don’t take me back there. I can’t… I can’t go back, not yet.”
His grip tightened slightly, reassuring and strong. “You don’t have to. I’m taking you to the shower.”
I was lost in a haze of emotion, unsure of what I was feeling, so I just rested my head against his shoulder, letting him carry me to the bathroom.