Fractured (Lucian & Lia #2)(14)
When Lia stops to take a drink of water, her eyes dart to mine and I do my best to give her an easy smile. I hate that she’s going through something so traumatic and appears to be more worried about me than herself. I vow, as I look into her apprehensive eyes, that I’ll keep it together. All of my feelings of anger, despair, and helplessness are solely because I let the bastard get to her. In her vulnerable state, though, I realize it would be entirely too easy for her to assume I don’t want her anymore, which is f*cking far from the truth. Uncaring of our audience, I lean over and press a kiss to her lips. “Doesn’t change a thing, baby.” She blinks back tears before turning back to Detective Michaels. The other woman looks intrigued by the interaction between us but quickly drops her professional mask back into place.
“Do you need to rest for a bit before continuing, Lia?” she asks, seeming to understand how difficult this is for her. I wonder if Lia would be afforded this courtesy if not for Max’s relationship with the police detective.
“I’m okay,” Lia says quietly before continuing. “He was so angry, almost hyper with it. I thought that maybe he might be taking something because he seemed almost manic. I remember he kept laughing, as if the whole thing was hysterical. Then, in the blink of an eye, he would be raging. The first thing I remember him saying after he had me subdued was, ‘You thought you had me, didn’t you? You stupid little whore, who do you think you are?’ Then he bent over, laughing as if he had said something so funny. He chanted, ‘I’ll show you…I’ll show you,’ repeatedly as he…started trying to remove my clothes. He got mad when he couldn’t get my shirt over my hands since he had them tied together. He started yanking them as if somehow it would help. Finally, he pulled a knife from his pocket and cut them, both my bra and shirt. When I tried to turn away so he couldn’t look at me…he slapped me before throwing me to the floor. My head hit the corner of one of the lockers, and I was disoriented for a few minutes. Just enough time for him to take off my pants and underwear.” Instead of looking at Detective Michaels, she turns to me, almost pleading as she continues. “I tried to fight—I really did, but he was so much stronger than me. He straddled my legs and…started touching me.”
When she pauses, Detective Michaels asks, “Where did he touch you, Lia?”
Lia closes her eyes for a moment as if gathering strength before opening them again. I know she is watching me to gauge my reaction, which lets me know that what she has to say next is going to be painful for both of us. I hold her gaze without looking away, trying to convey without words that no matter what she says, I will still be right here next to her. “First, he grabbed my breasts,” she begins quietly but resolutely. “He pinched them until I cried out and then squeezed them repeatedly. Then he…lowered his hand between my legs and stuck several fingers into my…vagina. He seemed to want me to cry, and he continued doing it until I did.”
“Fucking bastard,” I snap, unable to hold the words at bay. Even though I had guessed at what happened to her, hearing the words from her lips is sheer torture. Knowing he had his hands on her—in her—was enough to wreck me. When Lia stops talking, I squeeze her leg, nodding for her to continue despite my outburst.
In a husky voice, she picks up where she left off. “He then lowered his pants enough to release his penis. I…I bucked and twisted, trying to throw him off.” Pointing to her nose, she adds, “That’s when he hit me with his fist. Before I knew what was happening, he was trying to push inside me, and even as I cried, waiting for it to happen, it never did. He…he couldn’t get it to go in. He wasn’t hard enough. That’s when he really lost it and started hitting, kicking, and biting me.” She wipes at the tears trailing down her face as she says, “It hurt, but I didn’t care because it was better than the alternative. He kept calling me a filthy whore and saying it was my fault he couldn’t perform because I was too disgusting to him. I began getting really dizzy and fading in and out. When he picked up his knife and said he was going to show Lucian and the rest of the world what I really was, and this time there would be no mistaking his mark on me, I went crazy. He was going to carve the word ‘whore’ into my stomach with his knife. He punched me again when I kept fighting, and that’s the last thing I remember. I must have passed out.”
Detective Michaels stops her recorder before walking over to look down at Lia. “I know this may sound trite, but you are lucky to have survived something like that intact. I’ve seen so many who didn’t make it out. I realize you have a long road ahead of you, but please remember in the end that he wasn’t able to take what he wanted from you. You won because you’re here.”
“I know,” Lia agrees softly. “I had already accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to leave that room alive. So when I woke up here in the hospital, I thought I was still there…with him. I just…wanted to die rather than let him have me. I don’t know if I would have wanted to live if he had been able to do what he wanted to.”
“You’d be surprised at what you can overcome, Lia,” the other woman says before changing the subject. “I think that’s all I need for now. We’re doing everything we can to locate him, and I’ll keep you updated if anything new develops.” After she leaves, Lia studies her hands, as if afraid to look at me.