Page 62 of The Devil of Hollywood

I jerked to a stop, roughly letting her legs fall and placing her on her feet. The fast movements had Marian crying out and nearly collapsing as she fell into the stone wall.

“Go ahead. Walk.”

A sob. “There he is. There’s the real Dray. Don’t hold back because this pain didn’t come at your hand. We both know you wished it did. I accuse you of rape, and here I am. Beaten. Raped by more than a dozen men. Pissed on. Humiliated. Showered in their cum. Forced to drink it down. Congratulations. Karma did what you couldn’t. It’s not your revenge, but it was gifted to you anyway. Happy Wedding Day, Drayton. This is everything I’ve ever wanted and more.”

My feet rooted to the floor as Marian continued on. Her hand stayed against stone while she took small, slow steps. The guard stopped, waiting, but I could see his impatience. And I felt the horror in me grow at her words.

Innocent. Innocent.

I lunged forward, scooping Marian back into my arms as I stomped toward the man in front of me. Just seeing that he wore a blue uniform sent me raging even more. To hear what Marian had been through—and not at my hand—to know she didn’t deserve any of it—I couldn’t fucking swallow it down.

I had to.

Marian

Inever wanted to leave the shower. It didn’t matter how much soap I used; I’d never be clean again. Dirty. I could have still been covered in grime and bodily fluids for as disgusting as I felt. Steam rolled through, blanketing the enclosed stone space around me as I put more toothpaste on the toothbrush and began the routine for what had to be the tenth time. I brushed. I gagged. Blood and pink suds circled around the drain, and I moved on. Soap. Washcloth. More suds. Glowing red skin. Burning to my private areas. Fire. More increasing the heat until I could barely stand it. Hair. Washing. Scrubbing. No screaming.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Rinse.

Repeat.

Dirty. Yes. More gagging.

Rinse.

Repeat.

“Marian? Are you okay?”

“Go away, Drayton.”

“You’ve been in here for almost an hour. They’re waiting on us. You have to get out and get ready.”

“Go away, Drayton.”

“Marian”

No screaming.

No more crying.

Silence.

Married. I was getting married. To Drayton. To the man I’d spent my entire adult life loving. Missing. Praying for…

I slammed my hand against the faucet, turning off the water. When I walked around the corner from the small shower, I jerked to a stop. Drayton held the towel, wearing a tux. The tears came, even though I managed to hold in the sob. He looked like a dream I’d had a million times. One I secretly craved more than anything. But not like this. Not with me so… ruined.

“Jesus.”

Drayton’s eyes traveled over my body, taking in the bruises and cuts I’d seen in the mirror before it had fogged up. My knees were scabbing up. I was covered in dark purple splotches. My ribs. My stomach. My thighs. Even my shoulder held imprints of fingertips from one of the guards who had held me down.

The tears were blinding as I covered myself the best I could and walked up. Drayton didn’t speak as he wrapped me in the towel and handed me a pair of panties already lined with a pad. It had me meeting his stare.

“Thank you.”