“Oh, you don’t get to feel violated.” Both hands gripped the gun to steady it.
“So you know my name.” My eyes darted to my duffel bag. “What else do you know?”
Her eyes followed mine.
“What’s with the card for the psych ward? You’re fucking crazy?”
“You’re holding me at gunpoint, and you’re questioning my sanity?” She wasn’t asking the real question.
“Do I sound like I’m joking with you? Who’s the girl?”
“What girl?” I shook my head, slowly leaning a little more forward. There it was, the question that was burning in her mind.
“The girl in the picture who looks just like me. Why do you have it?”
I ran my hand over my mouth, biting back the curse I wanted to unleash. “Question time is over. Either pull the fucking trigger, come back to bed, or leave.”
“No! I have the gun, so I am in charge.”
This wasn’t going to end well, but I knew that before I slept with her.
My eyes narrowed as I slowly reached forward so I wouldn’t startle her. I wrapped my hands around hers as she gripped the gun and pulled her toward me until the cold barrel pressed against my bare chest.
“Do it,” I whispered. “Fucking do it. Tell the world some crazy asshole locked you in his hotel room and forced himself on you. Trust me, they’ll believe you. But that’s not what happened, Ella. The truth is, you came back to my hotel room willingly. You spread your legs for a fucking stranger without even knowing his goddamn name. You practically fucking begged me for it. And now you’re the one holding a gun and calling me crazy?”
Her grip loosened, and I slid the weapon from her hand. I immediately grabbed her shoulders and flipped over so I was on top of her, pinning her arms next to her head. I adjusted her arms so I was able to grip her wrists in one hand above her head, my other hand against her neck, forcing her to look me in the eye.
“You want to kill me, Ella? Huh? You want to fucking kill me?” My grip tightened as she struggled to turn her head, my fingertips on her jaw so as to not cut off her air supply. Our lips were practically touching, and under different circumstances her heavy panting would have turned me on.
“I didn’t pull the trigger.”
“You fucking should have because if you ever pull a stunt like that again…” My voice trailed off as her eyes filled with tears. “Don’t. You don’t get to be sad. You don’t get to be a fucking victim. You put a fucking gun to my heart!”
“I’m not a victim.” Her eyes narrowed, tears running down into her hair.
I bit back my rage and lowered my voice so my words wouldn’t fall on deaf ears. “That girl…that girl in the picture…” I squeezed my eyes closed, momentarily trying to calm my racing thoughts. I never talked about Katie to anyone. Her memories were mine alone. “She was a victim. She was…everything to me, and she is dead because of it.”
I felt the column of her throat move under my palm as she swallowed hard, her heart racing under my fingers.
“So if you want to play the victim with me, Ella, I will fucking make you one.” I kept her gaze for a moment before slowly releasing my grip on her hands. Her fingers immediately went to the hand that circled her throat, gripping tightly over the bracelet Katie had made me.
* *
“This will be your room. You will share it with Mr. Tryston Locklyn. He’s not very friendly but he keeps his side of the room clean,” The woman smiled as she nodded to the boy across the room. He didn’t look up or acknowledge us. I didn’t know it then, but that boy would soon become one of my best friends known as Trigger.
“Why’s he here?” I asked as I stepped inside of the small bedroom.
“You’ll have to ask him that.” She held out her hand as her eyes danced over my wrist. “No jewelry. It’s against the rules.”
My fingers slid over the bracelet Katie had made me and my insides boiled with the thought of taking it off.
“No.”
“Mr. Bentley, you either hand over the bracelet or I get someone in here to physically remove it from your body.”
“No.”
Trigger flew from the bed and lurched at the woman, her body falling to the ground. “Hide it! Hide it!”
I slipped inside of the bedroom and took the bracelet from my wrist, tucking into a small grated air vent as Tryston was being held down and medication was being given to him through a needle.
I finished my tour of the facility and was served what they claimed was lunch, although it tasted like cardboard. I sat alone as the room came alive with whispers, everyone wanting to know who the new kid was.