A feeling of utter helplessness washes over me, bringing on the tears I’ve come to hate so much. It shows him I’m scared and weak. I don’t want to be vulnerable in front of him.
“Don’t you dare!” I bite out the words, my voice hoarse with panic.
He shoves my hands higher, stretching me onto my toes and pins my wrists with one of his to the door. His other hand takes hold of my still wet hair and he moves it over my left shoulder. When I try to turn my head his fingers fold around the back of my neck. His mouth skims my right ear and I wish I could kick him between the legs, take away any chance of this monster ever having children.
“I’m sorry.” He’s back to whispering, sounding even more remorseful than before. And it’s definitely not what I expected him to say.
“Then don’t do it,” I resort to begging. Just maybe I can win his sympathy. “Don’t hurt me. Please.”
“On the bed,” he instructs. He must see the fear on my face, because he sighs as if I’m nothing but a burden to him.
A breath shudders through me and tears slip over my cheeks, but I make no effort to go near that bed.
He makes an impatient noise deep in his throat. He spins me around and shoves me hard in the direction of the bed. I fall half across the mattress, my knees hitting the floor. A whimper escapes my mouth, because I land face down, totally exposed to him. No man has ever seen or treated me like this!
He’s on me before I can push myself up, picking me up and tossing me onto the bed. Please don’t hurt me! Please don’t hurt me! I start to chant in my head.
When he touches my back, I cringe. I manage to keep still as his fingers trail down the length of my back. He touches my backside and I press my face into the cover. I try not to react, to give him any satisfaction of seeing me distressed.
His hand keeps working its way down to the top of my legs. The mattress dips as he sits down. I feel his leg press into my side. I want to scoot up, but I’m too scared.
His hand stills on my thigh and he just sits next to me. Time starts to crawl at a snails’ pace, as I wait for him to do something. He just sits next to me, and I keep still, not wanting to encourage him to do something.
After some time passes, my eyelids grow heavy and I struggle to keep them open. I use to love my sleep, now I’m fighting the tiredness that’s seeped into my bones. I don’t know how long I’ve been awake but I’m too scared to fall asleep, too scared of how vulnerable it will leave me.
I decide to close my eyes for a few seconds, just to let them rest.
The mattress dips and before my mind is fully awake, I feel Garrett straddling my backside. Panic lights up my foggy mind and everything seems overly bright. I bring my arms in under my chest, and push myself up. I try to throw Garrett off my body but he’s too heavy.
He leans down, his chest flush with my back. The material of his shirt scrapes against my skin. I try to get out from under him, my movements growing anxious with every second he’s on top of me.
His arms come around me, and as his one hand grabs one of my breasts, I freak out. I toss wildly, trying to elbow him.
“No!” he hisses. “Calm the fuck down. Think of your friends! I’m just going to hold you so you can get used to my touch.”
WTF? He’s groping my breast and he expects me to get used to it? But I’m scared he’ll hurt Riza and Kelly the way Eric hurt me. Or worse – kill one of us, so when he turns onto his side and pulls me along, I go with it. He keeps my back flushed with his chest. His hand never leaves my breast. His other arm slips around my abdomen, dangerously low. Then he just holds me, every breath he takes is skimming over the top of my head.
I don’t know what to do with my hands and end up covering my face. I don’t want to see his hands on me.
Minutes tick by in which not one of us move. I’m too scared to drift off to sleep. Scared he’ll move again and do something to me. My body is tense, every nerve wound tight.
“Let’s just rest a bit. It’s going to be a long day.” His voice is sleepy.
How the hell does he expect me to rest?
I wait, in the hopes that he’ll fall asleep and I can try to get away.
All hope is in vain. His breathing might be deep and slow, but his tight grip on me remains.
Whether it’s from the time that passes, or him not trying anything else, my body starts to relax. Again, it’s a mistake on my part. He moves fast, slipping his hand between my legs. He cups me. Terror lights my mind like the 4th of July and I try to move away from him, but I’m stuck between his hard body and the tight grip he has on me.
I grab hold of his arm and try to yank his hand off my breast. The man is so damn strong! Nothing I do help. In fact, it only makes him hold me tighter.