Page 86 of Grace

The sky is a flawless azure, not a single cloud in sight. Sunlight sends a warm, pleasant tingling across my skin.

I pull my T-shirt over my head and walk toward her. She can’t fly away, she can’t run, because this isn’t reality. It’s only an illusion I created—because in my dreams, she can be mine. And I want to become one with her on this flower-strewn meadow, scattered with yellow and white daffodils.

My butterfly is doing better when she’s free. She accepts her fate and leaps into my arms. Her dark hair is bright and soft like silk, golden sunlight dancing through it. Her waist curves delicately, and her long, fragile legs wrap around me. Her soft thighs hold me close—I feel the fine hairs on her skin. Her lips are pink and delicious, making her kiss feel like balm against my skin. Her flower-bright eyes capture me. They say nothing, only ask in silence. Her gaze tells me what her mouth is afraid to say. But I understand. I will take on the role of the sinner so she can remain pure and innocent in the judgmental eyes of the world.

I’ve been obsessed with her since the first moment I saw her.

The feeling burns through me.

My heart aches whenever she’s not with me. No matter how hard I press my palm to my chest, the pain doesn’t go away, doesn’t fade. And I don’t want it to leave, because that would mean the end of something. But there is still a chance. There is always a second chance, even for those who make mistakes.

I made a mistake when I let her slip through my fingers. But this time, I’ll be smarter. Grace is no longer a child. I don’t have to kidnap her—rip her from the world—to bind her to me. She’s a grown woman now, and the girl I fell in love with is still inside her, hiding behind the anger and hatred. But she must accept that she belongs to me.

My eyes glide over the drawing. I trace her long thighs and brown hair with my fingertips.

There is nothing I regret from the last few years, because I love her with an obsession.

Grace

I threw it out, then took it back out of the trash. I set it on the kitchen table and now I’m staring into its black button eyes, my arms crossed. I should throw it out. I shouldn’t keep this “gift.” I should destroy it again—but I can’t. I’m attached to it. Because it’s damaged. Because it’s different. This teddy bear was with me when I was captive. I can smell the damp, rich scent of soil and the musty air of the cellar clinging to it. It’s a piece of my past, a memory I can touch.

I don’t have many of those left. I never went back to that accursed farmhouse after that fateful night.

I stroke its tiny black eyes and its matted, dirty fur. Back then, they didn’t make plush toys soft. This one is ugly and rough to the touch. I was fifteen when I received it—Chase left this “gift” on my bed after he first raped me.

…

I was sitting in my room, wrapped in a towel. Chase crouched down in front of me and looked deep into my eyes. His dark eyes glinted in the dim light.

Hot tears burned against my cold skin. I wanted to close my eyes, but I didn’t—his gaze held mine captive. When I drew in another breath, my whole body shuddered.

His warm fingers were caressing my ankles in a restrained way. I curled my toes and scooted back, away from him. I didn’t want him to touch me. I clung to that accursed rag as if my life depended on it, clutching it so tightly over my breasts that my fingers turned numb and white. My heart was racing. Fear lodged in my throat, and I could barely swallow.

“I don’t want it, Chase,” I whimpered. But he peeled my fingers off the towel delicately. His sharp gaze swept over me more than once. I was trembling. My small breasts rose and fell softly. My body might have been far from that of a grown woman, but he looked at me as if I were the most beautiful person on earth.

I swallowed my tears in silence. Gently, he made me lie on my back. He straightened up and unbuckled his belt. His body loomed over mine, casting a shadow. He pushed down his pants.

I didn’t dare look at him.

I stared at the gray ceiling, my eyes wide and unblinking. My limbs trembled like a leaf, and I tasted tears at the back of my throat.

I thought of Mom and Dad. I thought of my room. Of warmth. Of freedom. I wanted to run from that cold, stinking room, from the cage of my own body.

I broke into sobs as Chase climbed on top of me. His skin burned against mine, soft and warm. My heart pounded frantically, the sound filling the silence of the room. Air locked in my lungs, I couldn’t breathe. I lay beneath him, rigid and numb.

At that moment, I was thinking about Daisy and Jamie. And the bloody bedsheet.

Fear settled into my bones, and bitterness burned in my heart, because Daisy was free. My best friend… And I had no idea what had become of her. Did they continue their sinful relationship? Or did she find a boy her own age? My head was spinning with questions, tangling together like spiders weaving a web of sorrow.

Will I ever see my parents again in this life?

My pain tore out of me, loud and bitter. Chase entered me roughly. Throbbing heat spread between my shaking legs. Raw, searing pain ripped through my body, erasing the warm smile of my parents.

I dug my nails into his firm shoulders and clamped my mouth shut. But I couldn’t hold back my tears—they fell like heavy rain down my face.

After a few thrusts, the pain subsided. My soul was dying.

This is not how I had imagined losing my virginity. Not this way, without having any say in what was happening to me. Without deciding who I wanted to give myself to, or how. Chase took it from me. And I didn’t protest, didn’t fight him, because I knew there was no point.