Scarlet
“Where the fuck were you?” I scream at the police, wondering why it took so long for them to get here. Vera is with me, arm around my shoulder as she comforts me. I’m upset that he did this, but I’m even more so with myself. I should have known this would happen. I just thought that when I gave the go ahead for Vera to call the police that they would be here in time.
“There was an accident about six kilometres away that caused a traffic jam.” He looks at my dishevelled state. I’m at least decent now and sitting on the couch, but my stupid fucking nasty grey skirt is all ripped in a couple of places. I wouldn’t mind so much, but it’s because Reid did it.
Again.
My hatred for that man reaches new heights. I know he’s been going fucking cuckoo lately because Akilah’s been keeping me informed. When he told me that he’d had a drink and thought he was heading my way, I had been prepared for him. I just didn’t realise he’d turn up bloodied and ready to rape me just off the bat like that. I thought he would tell me crazy, stupid things. What I hadn’t counted on is him using the fact that he hasn’t been able to get it up since me as an excuse to tear his way inside of the woman he knows as Dr Mercy.
And he did tear his way inside of me. For a moment, though, as he was circling my clit, the old Scarlet came to the surface, allowing me to feel the pleasure it gave me. As much as I hated Reid, I knew that feeling pleasure was a damn sight better than feeling how disgusting I knew he would make me feel otherwise if I fought what little good he was trying to bring me.
So, I did allow it. A momentary lapse back into the old me allowed me to relish the moment with him again. It was only for a few seconds. As I felt myself slip, a flash of David and James came into my head, however, and that brought me back into the here and now with a massive thump. It was then that the fear crept back in. It was the same fear I used to have when Richard came into my room all those years ago when I was a teenager. The same fear I had when I came home from school, knowing he would want to take me again—just like he had the day before and the day before that. I remember Mondays had been worst as most of the time, he would never be able to get to me at the weekends. I learnt to hate Mondays with a passion. Those were the days when he was rougher, hungrier.
In the moment that the fear came, an enormous amount of anger came with it. I fought, but I knew it was a futile endeavour. Reid had somehow managed to gain the strength of about ten men. It was like watching him going into a trance as he laid me down, pushing himself inside of me.
I began to feel lost. I didn’t know what to do. But then I remembered a trick I had learnt from all those years ago with Richard.
I blanked out.
I went to that special place I knew to go to when it felt like I couldn’t handle what was being done to me. I allowed my body to go numb along with my mind. Reid was on top of me, grunting, moaning, and thrusting, but it all became like a distant sound—a distant going on that I wasn’t a part of.
“Dr Mercy, I need to take you to the hospital,” one of the Spanish policemen tells me.
I snap my eyes to him, shaking my head. “No. I’m fine.”
He frowns. “But, señorita, he hurt you.”
Yeah, and I’m going to hurt him even more!
“I don’t want the hospital or the police involved. He needs help. He’s had some sort of psychotic episode. He’s dangerous and needs urgent psychiatric treatment.” Even Lopez told me what a hellhole it was—that it was like putting him in a Spanish version of Shutter Island. I think he even called me a sadistic bitch. He’d smiled when he called me that.
“But, señorita,” he complains again.
I hold my hand up to stop him. “Contact Chief Lopez from the Guardia Civil. He’ll know all about this. I’ll speak with him and only him. Now, please … just go. I need to be alone for a few minutes.” I turn to Vera. “Can you escort them out?”
She gives me a look I can only describe as pity—pity for a victim. I’m tired of being a fucking victim. In truth, I have only myself to blame for chasing after Reid and seeking my revenge. It’s come at a cost, but I’ll fucking take it if it means Reid will suffer for the rest of his life in return.
I watch as they reluctantly leave, and all I can think about now is David and how devastated he will be when he discovers the extent to which Reid has violated me. He’ll be positively murderous. For those reasons, I can’t tell him. I know I can’t. Once I walk out of here today and close the door to this part of my life and leave it behind me, I will have to keep what happened here locked up with it.
And so, I take a few minutes before I call Lopez, and I allow myself to cry. I allow a steady stream of tears to escalate until I am sobbing uncontrollably for all that Reid has done to me—both in the past and in the present. I mourn the fact that he was able to render my carefully constructed defences temporarily useless, thus turning me into the helpless, victimised child I started out as rather than the nearly invincible survivor bent on justice I have become for those few minutes he had me pegged to my desk. What he put me through was indescribable, and I continue to cry until there are no more tears left to shed. I cry until the anger resurfaces.
The hurt.
The pain.
The suffering.
The desire for revenge.
This is what I am here for. I came seeking vengeance, and I am ready to complete my mission. I roughly wipe the tears from my eyes, take a few deep breaths, and pick myself up from the sofa. I gather all my things, and once done, I take a look around the office I have only had for the last week or so and smile when the truth hits me:
Reid may have won the battle twice.
But I am about to win the motherfucking war.