Travis was waiting for me in the guest room. He had already started to remove his clothes. My brain checked out, and I went to the bed. I imagined I was somewhere else, somewhere not in my body, but no matter how hard I thought of warm sandy beaches or even my overcrowded English 101 class with Professor Fitz, who was always dripping with sweat and never wore deodorant, I couldn’t block out the pain.
Travis pushed me down onto the mattress. I closed my eyes and took a breath, bracing myself for the initial overwhelming pain. I balled my fists and whimpered when he forced himself into me. I turned my head, not wanting to look the monster in the eyes.
Travis grabbed my chin and roughly forced my face straight. “Look at me,” he said. I closed my eyes. “Look at me!” he said again and shook my head.
“I’d rather die,” I said through clenched teeth.
Travis thrust into me as hard as he could, as if he was stabbing me. He was doing it on purpose, wanting to hurt me. “Look at me!” he said for the third time. His fingers dug into my face. I opened my eyes one at a time. “Now tell me how good this feels.”
My brow furrowed as I tried not to cry. “So good,” I whispered.
“Yeah, oh yeah,” he groaned and started to thrust faster. He held my gaze as he finished. Panting, he collapsed onto me, making it hard for me to breathe. He lay there for a minute before he pushed himself off of me. I didn’t move until he was dressed and out of the room. I sat up, swallowing the lump of sour vomit threatening to come up. Shakily, I got off the bed and redressed.
I used to like it rough. I wondered if I’d like it again. Not even rough sex … just sex in general. Would I even be able to have sex, enjoyable sex with someone I loved, again? Then again, who would want to be in a relationship with me even if I did get out?
I placed both hands on the dresser and bent over, taking a deep breath. I hated Zane. Hated him with everything inside of me. I had never been a violent person, but the thought of hitting Zane’s head against a wall until blood oozed out brought me more joy than I was willing to admit.#p#分页标题#e#
I pushed off the dresser and stiffly walked downstairs. Zane was sitting on the couch, watching me come down the stairs. He tilted his head down and seductively bit his lip. His incredible good looks only made him all the more dangerous. I glowered at him and fought the urge to pick up the little glass statue of a bird that sat on the coffee table and hit him in the face with it. Jackson had said that Zane almost always had a gun on him. I didn’t feel like getting shot today
I hurried through the living room. I didn’t want to go back into the dark hole that had become my home, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near Zane.
Lily and Phoebe stood in front of the large mirror getting ready for tonight’s work. Lily was chatting away, talking about working at the club over the weekend. She was excited and animated and seemed to be looking forward to it. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt since I would rather strip and give lap dances with happy endings than go to the truck stops, but I knew deep down she was becoming exactly what Jackson was talking about: so broken she forgot she was a victim.
***
The girls left early that evening. I took a fast, icy shower and buried myself under blankets, trying to get warm. I was just beginning to drift to sleep when I thought I heard the basement door slowly creak open. I sat up, pulled the covers down from over my face, and blinked in the light. When I heard nothing, I lay back down and buried myself under the blankets again.
“Adeline?”
I shot up, heart racing.
“Sorry,” Jackson said and took a step back.
“It’s okay,” I breathed, my eyes locking with his. I instantly felt a little safer. “I didn’t hear you coming. I always hear you coming.”
“I’m not supposed to be down here,” he told me. “I … I wanted to see you.”
I ran my hands over my damp hair. “Oh.” It took me off guard, though at the same time a warm flutter ran through me. I like that feeling … I missed that feeling. I looked up at Jackson and noticed a new bruise overlapping one that was just starting to fade. I stood, keeping the blanket around my shoulders and gently touched his cheek. “What happened?”
Jackson put his hand over mine. The flutter turned into butterflies in my stomach at the feeling of his skin against mine. He looked away. “Zane hit me again.”
“Why?”
“He saw me talking to you.”
My eyebrows pushed together. “You can’t talk to me?”
He frowned. “He said I wasted time by talking. Plus, I’m not supposed to do anything I enjoy while I’m working. Or ever,” he added ruefully. “Not when he’s around at least.”