Page 104 of Shattered In Darkness

She’s on her knees, lips parted, eyes glazed but open. There are hands on her, one gripping her hair, another squeezing her breast. She’s fucking moaning. She doesn’t fight it. She leans in. She wants it.

The men—three of them, all older—surround her, crowd in, taking turns using her mouth, her cunt. Her dress is pulled down, tits out. She takes a cock in her mouth and another in her pussy. She rides them, bucking like she can’t get enough.

She’s awake.

She’s smiling.

Sick. Filthy. My heart claws at my ribs, desperate to tear itself out. This can’t be real. I watch for proof but there’s nothing. She wants them. Not me.

I taste bile. I nearly break the glass. Someone says her name—Lola, baby, just like that. She laughs, leans in harder, sucks him deeper.

I want to die.

Pulling away from the window, I nearly trip. My body is on fire with rage and revulsion. I want to kill them. I want to kill myself. I want to drag her out and make her explain. But I can’t move. My legs are rubber, draining out all the blood I ever had.

I run—sideways, backwards, blind. Get to my car, slam the door, drive until the world blurs past, unsure of where I’m going.

I end up at a liquor store. Neon light burns my eyes. I use a fake ID and buy the strongest bottle I see. The cashier doesn’t even blink. He knows broken men when he sees them.

I park by the river, kill the lights. I rip the seal, drink straight from the bottle. Burns all the way down but doesn’t numb anything. I keep seeing it, over and over. Her mouth, those hands, the way she looked at them. Happy. Gone. Like I was already erased.

A scream twists up my throat. I smash my fist into the dash, split my knuckles, but don’t feel it. I drink until everything goes gray at the edges. I want to forget. I want to drive into the water, or crush the bottle against my skull, or just sink into dirt and rot.

Hope is dead. Love was a fucking joke. I was a joke.

But the urge to see her again is still there. Even now. Even when everything inside is ruined.

I stare at my trembling hands. If I could rip my heart out, I would. If I could forget her face, I would. But she’s still there, burned into my brain like a brand.

I drink until I can’t see straight, and when I finally close my eyes, her voice is all that’s left.

Lola. Lola. Lola.

What the fuck did you do?

33

LOLA

I curl tighter in the blanket, eyes burning from the cold and from last night. Brody paces behind me, boots heavy on the warped floor.

He throws another log into the stove with a bang. “Jesus, would you quit fucking shivering? You sound like a dying animal.”

I glare at him over my shoulder. “Sorry I’m ruining your fucking peace and quiet. I didn’t ask to be here.”

His jaw flexes. “You never ask for anything, do you? Just play the victim. That always worked for you.”

I force myself not to look away. My lips are numb, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me small. “Better than playing the monster. Is that how you get off now, Brody? Making sure I know who’s in charge?”

He stalks closer, fists clenched at his sides, eyes wild and ravenous in the gray dawn. For a second, I think he might hit the wall or me. “You think you’re some kind of victim? After everything?”

I fling the blanket off, forcing myself to stand, body trembling. “You kidnapped me. You threatened me. You fucked me like you hated me. And now you’re pissed I’m cold?”

He’s inches away now, face close to mine. “I’m pissed you act like any of this is my fault. Like you didn’t lie. Like you didn’t sell yourself to the highest bidder the second I was gone. Yeah, I’m fucked up, but I thought the worst of you.”

I slap him, hard, hope and malice in one broken motion. “Fuck you. You don’t know what I did. You never even asked.”

His head whips to the side. For a terrifying moment, he’s silent. Then he turns back, voice shaking. “I saw you, Lola. That’s all I needed.”