Lost in Silence (The Lost Series Book 1)(58)
I pause, dragging in a deep breath. His arms snake around my waist pinning me to his front. My resistance is futile, so I lean into him needing his strength to get through the next part.
“I dream of men. Lots of men, each one using me for some sick fantasy. They touch me, hit me, smack me, punch me and fuck me until they get off. They kiss me with revolting breath that smells like death and lick every inch of my skin with their acid tongues. They burn me with cigarettes, cut me with razor blades, hang me from the ceiling naked and on display. They force their cock down my throat and choke me until I submit. They fuck me in any position imaginable, bending and twisting my body painfully. I don’t cry out or beg them to stop. There’s no point. Nothing I do or say would stop them anyways,” the room is dead silent as he listens. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breath. He simply stands with his arms around me. My hands shake with nervous energy, so I place them over his to steady them and he lacing his fingers with mine.
“Good dreams aren’t filled with faceless men using you, breaking you, nearly killing you for their own enjoyments,” I take in a shuddering breath before continuing. “Did you know I played the violin? It’s kind of a family tradition. My father lacked the natural talent I was born with. I spent my entire childhood with a violin under my chin. My father was a tyrant when it came to perfection. If he couldn’t usurp his own father’s talents, he would make damn sure his only daughter did.”
The photo, the one of his team catches my eye. I reach for it but I’m almost afraid to touch it. Afraid his supportive silence will vanish if I touch it. He hasn’t said a word since I started and I’m all right with it since it is my turn to tell secrets.
“The music, my fingers, I’d play it in my head when I couldn’t handle what was happening to me,” I drop my hand away from the mantle but gracefully lift my arms, pretending to hold a violin and bow. His arms remain steady around my waist. I close my eyes and imagine I’m standing on stage, playing before a crowd of people, the music softly straining from the pressure of the bow and my fingers. I remember the joy I would feel, to have the crowd in the palm of my hand, weeping because the song moved them. Slowly, I drop my arms, hang my head and study the crooked fingers of my hands. “Erik didn’t like me playing. One night he got this idea in his head to destroy all that I loved most. Smashing my violin to pieces wasn’t enough for him. A violin could be replaced. He had to make sure I wouldn’t be able to play ever again…I tried to set them but they never healed right.”
His hand takes mine and he spins me around to face him. His eyes are soft and understanding, glistening with unshed tears. Lifting my hands to his lips, he presses feathery light kisses on each finger. A knot forms in my throat and I struggle to swallow.
Ah, fuck! Why did he have to that?
I wasn’t going to be able to walk away from this man.
Not when he does sweet things like that.
*****
Hudson
“Hudson, you have to stop,” she looks at me with pain laced in her eyes, a glimpse of need glistening in the back. Our hands intertwined feels right and after what she just told me, I never want to let go. How someone can be so cruel, so maniacal was beyond comprehension. Her torture hadn’t started with Erik. It went back to the day she was born.
“I can’t,” my voice is gruff and I realize I’m ready to lay everything out for her. Something flickers behind her and I glance at it. It’s one of the photos on the mantle. That photo. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, giving in. “And I don’t want to.”
Preacher’s words echo in my head and finally I understand what he meant. This woman standing before me had been placed purposely in my life for a number of reasons. While I’ve questioned it at every turn, I know Alice was the woman he described the day he died. We keep fighting these feelings. Neither of us is ready for something this serious, this strong. But there is no way I can stay away from her anymore. Whatever lies between us has a tight hold on me and I don’t want it to let go.
I want her, almost as much as I need her.
It’s as if she can see the thoughts swirling around in my head because her face morphs into stone and her body stiffens. Her eyes are hopeful but guarded. I know she isn’t ready to stop fighting because she believes she isn’t worthy of something this good. I don’t care, I’ll fight for her if I have to.
“Don’t you understand? I’m dirty. Unclean. Ruined,” she raises her voice and tries to yanks away but I wrap my arms around her. I know what she was trying to do but I wasn’t going to let her severe this connection between us. “I was raped Hudson. Repeatedly and not just by one man either. He sold me by the night, sometimes for a week at a time. To whomever he wanted or would pay his price. I wasn’t a cheap piece of ass either. He used me like a whore. He made me a slut. A bitch with a hole to be stuffed and filled. Playing my role in it, taking it as they give it to me with a smile and gratitude. The perfect little cunt. His little money maker,” she flinches as the words leave her mouth. I refuse to react even as the images cut deep into my heart. To hear what she endured, even a small bit, causes rage to boil deep inside me. I silently vow to find Erik and make him pay for what he’s done to her. “I’m a shell Hudson and the person inside…she’s worthless. Why can’t you see that?”