Sicko(24)
“I’m going to teach you so many things, Jade. You’ll learn to love it eventually. Crave it. You’ll learn to submit to me whenever I come calling. Clean yourself up.”
I flinched, but I knew better than to pull away from his touch. The second time he raped me, I tried to pull away from him. He made me pay for it, but not in a way that you’d expect him to. James had an art to which he abused his victims, and I was his everlasting paintbrush. He’d use me to paint his new victims and then hand me to the next to borrow. He’d say I was special, that my strokes were unlike any he had seen before. I wanted to burn the whole art studio down along with everyone else inside of it.
“Spend the night with me and I’ll drop you off here early in the morning. I have a hotel—soundproof walls.” He grins and then pulls us out of the parking lot. I focus out the window and watch as young people laugh with their friends. They have no idea how lucky they are. Oblivious to the kind of evil that I exist among, which is why I could never have a crush on any boys. Regardless of how hot they are or how they make me feel.
The hotel is nice, but of course it is. Penthouse, rich red colors and glass windows that overlook Hollywood Boulevard.
James hands me a glass filled with amber-colored alcohol, loosening his tie. His blue eyes meet mine, so blue. So familiar. I shoot back the rest of the liquid, ignoring the burn that settles in the back of my throat.
“Thank you,” I whisper once my voice is stable.
“On your knees.”
I obey, sinking to the floor.
“Remove your clothes.” He tosses his tie across the room, removing his belt. He slaps the belt across the palms of his hands a few times and then his eyes come to mine as he places it onto the bed. “Your brother is back.”
“He is,” I say softly, peering up at James from beneath my lashes. His hand comes to my cheek as his thumb grazes over my lips.
“So beautiful, Bunny…” My stomach churns. He comes down to my level and slowly lifts me off the ground, placing me onto the bed, stepping back to take in my nakedness. His hand dips beneath his slacks as he pulls himself out and pumps, his eyes on my body. “All of it belongs to me, doesn’t it?”
I swallow, nodding my head. “Yes.”
“Spread your legs.”
I do, widening them until he’s standing between with one hand running over my nipple. Every time his palm skims over my breasts softly, I bite down on the inside of my cheeks until my mouth pools with metallic blood. I need the pain to distract from the way his gentle touches violate my soul.
He falls down on me until I’m flat on my back. His cock is at my entrance, his tender kisses falling all over my neck as he slides inside of me. Sexual abuse comes in all colors of the rainbow, it’s not just black and white. He continues his assault. The same dance that I’ve learned and move to effortlessly now. He flips me over, taking me from behind, to the side, me on top, him back on top, the positions change, but one thing always remains. The temperament of his lovemaking remains mellow, sensual. It’s the kind of sex you’d have with someone you love wholeheartedly, with your husband or your wife. It was after the fourth time that I realized why he did it like this.
Because he didn’t just want my body.
He was fighting for my soul, too.
He would never have it. I’ve hidden it away in a place where no man would ever venture in to retrieve it. The only problem with that is, now no one would find it.
The next morning, I’m standing under a hot shower as the water trickles over my aching body. He may take it slow, but he makes sure to do it for hours. And hours. And hours on end. I shiver climbing out, and as soon as I’m back in my room, I slam my door closed and squeeze my towel.
Day one of freshman year at a new college.
I make my way to my makeup bag and get started. This routine is natural for me. Conceal, fake a smile. Makeup is the curtain I hide behind, as if it confuses people who try to peek into the real me.
If only I could confuse myself too.
The first week of college went fast. I found that my classes were pretty easy to get to despite the fact that the campus was a lot bigger than I had initially assumed during orientation day. It’s Friday now and I’m dreading getting ready to go out to whatever it is Nellie has us planned on going to. I didn’t hear from James all week, though, so that in itself is something worth celebrating. We’re riding in Nellie’s car to the other side of LA when Sloane hands me a flask.
I take big sips before handing it back. My drinking got worse when Royce left. I found the more I drank, the deeper I fell down a hole that swallowed all of me—my pain included. I’m one big gaping wound, and alcohol just so happens to be the Band-Aid. It could have been worse. I could have turned to snow.
I rub my hands up and down my thighs. I kept it casual. Black skinny jeans with tears up the thighs and a white lace bodysuit that does more for my tits than any bra could have.
“God, I can’t with your perfect fucking tits!” Sloane grumbles.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Yours are huge!”
“So!” Her hands come to my breasts and she squeezes. “Fake ones always look better.” I whack her hands away and roll my eyes. If only she knew why and how I came about getting fake tits.
“So, are you going to tell us where we’re going?” I say, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the center console. Using the rearview mirror to rearrange my hair, I fluff it up at the front and run my pinky finger over my bright red lips.