Crushed (Torn #7)(37)

I would do anything to soothe him—anything—except what he was demanding of me. I just couldn’t. This wasn’t his battle.

Shaking my head, I directed a disappointing look at him. “No,” I softly whispered, dejected.

“Why the f*uk are you protecting him?” He gave me a look like he thought I had lost my mind. “He f*uking took advantage of you. He—he—” Roughly, he huffed out, trying to conjure up the words. “He—” he tried again as pain etched all over his face before giving me those eyes that reached deep into my soul, into my heart, telling me he felt my pain. “He raped you, Amber. How can you protect someone like that?” he asked in a little, broken voice that crushed me.

Rob raped me. But it wasn’t that easy, was it?

“It wasn’t as if I didn’t enjoy it. I mean, I remember flashes. I remember liking it…”

What he did was wrong, but at the same time, I couldn’t lay all the blame on him. I was the one who had placed myself in that position. Had I been a responsible adult, I wouldn’t have been making such idiotic decision. Yet, I did and I was paying for it. So if I gave in and told him Rob’s name, it was a whole different problem to tackle, and quite frankly, I wasn’t ready to face that. I was too frightened, too broken to even consider spilling any of it.

“You were on f*uking ecstasy; of course you f*uking liked it! That drug was made for that specific reason,” he harshly ground out, frustrated that I wasn’t seeing his argument. “The point is, you said no, and he didn’t f*uking listen to you. I don’t care what he told you, but under no circumstances can a guy force a woman to have sex then persistently tell her that wasn’t rape.”

The second time he said the word rape, I felt as if chains were wrapped around my neck, controlling my breathing, choking me.

“This is all just too much…” Frantically, I sought his eyes, hoping he would stop for a second, because I felt like the walls were closing in on me, and I wasn’t sure what I would do once I felt trapped. “I can’t handle this.”

Brody reached towards me, seeking my hand then tightly holding it in his. “Then let me handle it. Let me take care of this for you. Let me help—f*uk!” he desperately begged, beseeching. “How did this happen? This is all my fault!”

“No, don’t blame yourself.” The last thing I ever wanted after confessing about that night was for him to feel guilty or feel as though I was his responsibility. I was far from that.

“I was hostile when you first got here. I was being a dick because I couldn’t stand the thought of you in Carter’s bed, in his room, probably doing the things I used to do to you. It was eating me alive. I could barely sleep just thinking about it. In the beginning, I thought it was because Lindsey had gotten married. That influenced it, too, but when I came out of my room and heard you two laughing inside his bedroom—well, I knew you were a major part of my sleepless nights.”

His confession rendered me—wtf? Did he just tell me he was jealous without really using the damn word itself? What!

“Please … Tell me who this f*uker is so he can be served for what he did to you,” Brody pressed on, redirecting my thoughts back to the problem at hand, which was to make him stop pursuing Rob’s identity.

“No.” I had to put my foot down, ready to be graced with his angry backlash. “I don’t want people looking at me differently; they already do. No, I can’t embarrass myself this way. It’s just too humiliating even thinking about it. And for me to go the route you intend to take? f*uk, I just can’t do it. I’m sorry. Call me a coward, whatever, but I can’t f*uking do it, Brody.”

He stilled, not quite happy about my unwavering stance, then took another route. “If he’s going to do this to you, he’ll do it to someone else. Are you really going to let another girl go through this? You’re all sorts of f*uked up. If you could prevent this, why wouldn’t you?”

“Because…” I’m afraid. Because, once I do, there’s no going back.

I would forever be a victim, and I didn’t want to see myself that way. I could get through this without needing to tell the rest of the population about the humiliating experience. I couldn’t bear it.

Giving him a pleading look, I said, “I have to go. I need to breathe.” Hastily, I scoured the room for my purse, ready to head out the door. I could feel the chain around my neck tightening as the walls closed around me, ready to confine me, trap me.

“Let me come with you,” he offered at the last second as I opened the door, about to sprint out of there like the hounds of Hell were chasing me.

Giving him one last glance, I said, “No. I need to be alone.”

He solemnly nodded. “I’ll stay in this room,” he said, knowing where my thoughts were leading and willing to give me that breathing space I was desperate for. “I’ll wait for you.”

I could have breathed out a thank you, but I didn’t have the capacity to do even that. Brody was too much on top of everything else. I just couldn’t deal with it all at once. He meant well, but at this moment, I needed to regroup and calm down.

I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t put myself through the process. Women had to be careful whom they partied with because no one was safe from predatory men. They were everywhere, and some got caught and punished, but some freely walked around as if they had done nothing wrong. And I bet with my life, most predators were free; little were caught because of women like me.