This is Love, Baby(36)

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and continue my retreat toward the bathroom in the dark. “I have nightmares about him and the stuff he’s done to me. I was scared.”

He climbs off the bed and strides over to me. His strong arms wrap around me and pull me to his sculpted chest. “It’s okay. You’re drenched in sweat. Take a shower and you’ll feel better. I’ll grab you a bottle of water for when you get out.”

I want to be thankful for his gentleness. Want to be able to accept it for what it is. I let out a sigh when he kisses the top of my head. He leaves me to head for the kitchen. Making my way inside, I turn on the light in the bathroom and kick a discarded towel out of the way. I lock the bathroom door behind me and head over to the mirror.

My hair has dried from my last shower and is a mess on top of my head. Dark circles paint the flesh under my eyes. A quiver has set in on my bottom lip and tears stain my cheeks. I’m crushing under the weight of all that’s happened to me.

I twist my hair into a quick bun and then turn on the shower. Seconds later, I’m standing under the hot spray, hoping to wash away my nightmares forever. I quickly rinse my body but when I bring a washcloth between my thighs, I wince. My pussy feels slightly sore as if I’ve recently had sex. But the last time was the night before with Gabe. A shudder ripples through me and I push away another nightmare, as a dark sense of foreboding comes over me.

With everything that’s happened, my body has been thrown out of whack.

Pregnancy hormones and all that.

I remember falling asleep with Brandon protectively curled up behind me. Waking up, entwined in him, as if we’d been—

No. He wouldn’t. As much as I know he wants to, he’d never violate me like that. I need to stop painting him as a villain and lean on him as a friend. Perhaps he had a wet dream, while I was having another nightmare. I have to chuckle at the irony. Because if I don’t I’ll start to cry.

I’m going to take care of you, babe.

I remember his words to me, once he ripped me from sleep. I have to trust that he is doing just that. Even though I don’t trust anyone right now. But I need a friend. Incredibly so.

When the water grows cold, I step out and begin to dry off.

Then I hear it.

Shouting.

What if Gabe got loose and is hurting Brandon?

Panic sets in. I can’t lose Brandon too. My desperate resolve from just outside this godforsaken cabin two days ago comes rushing back over me. I might not entirely trust Brandon anymore. He might be deceiving me in some way that I will sniff out. But he’s all I’ve got. I didn’t let Gabe steal him away from me then. And I will not fucking lose him now either.

Not wasting any time, I bolt from the bathroom naked and down the hallway. I’m just pushing through into the kitchen but then slam to a halt.

Brandon’s green eyes are glowing with manic rage. His hair is drenched with sweat and his shoulders quake with heavy breaths as he drags Gabe in his chair over to the hole of the cellar. I open my mouth to plead for him to stop—that if Gabe doesn’t tell me what happened to Dad, I’ll never have any answers. But instead, I stand there stunned silent and reaching out to him.

Gabe’s dark eyes find mine and they’re sad. He mouths that he’s sorry before he drops heavily down the hole. The sickening crunch resounds over and over again in my head. Chair splintering. Bones breaking. Over and over again. No other sounds. No movement or moans or noise of any kind follow the sound of his descent.

I hate Gabe.

Detest his existence.

But I wanted him to suffer.

Humanely.

In prison.

To always think about his crimes and pay for them over his lifetime.

“W-W-What did you do?” I stammer out and meet the enraged glare of Brandon. Pushing past him, I make my way over to the hole that Gabe was pushed into. I fall to my knees and peer inside. My stomach clenches into a fist as I clutch onto the sides of the floor to keep from hurtling down into the abyss with him. Gabe’s lying on his side facing the darkness of the cellar. A pool of blood forms around the middle of his body and he’s unmoving. The chair is smashed into a several pieces around him. His neck seems to be turned in an awkward way and I wonder if he broke it upon impact. Tears are streaming down my face and I angrily swipe them away with the back of my hand. Finding the cellar door, I pull it closed and then latch it shut. I can’t look at his broken body any longer.

With a scream of frustration, I scramble to my feet and charge for Brandon. “Why? Why did you do that?” I demand, fresh, hot tears chasing the ones before them, race their way to my jaw and drip onto my breasts. “You killed him!”