Leah
I told myself that now that I couldn't stop what happened, I'd have to accept that Jacob wouldn't want to see me. Inspector Willoughby had insisted that Jacob's trial would be quick. That he'd be locked up within a month. It took my breath away. There was a time when I could have told myself that it would make me feel safe. But I didn't feel safe. I wrapped my arms around myself, staring at the cab I was about to take. I knew I couldn't resist. I had to go to the city. See his home. See where he was. Work up the nerve to visit him even though he wouldn't want to see me. I couldn't stay away.
It was all a mistake.
Sitting in the cab, I'm weak. My head is leaning against the glass, and the coldness is how I feel inside. Hollowed out, like all the heat in my body left when I abandoned Jacob.
When I come to the towering stone marvel where Jacob Renaud once lived, I don't know what I expected to see. I hoped there wouldn't be a for sale sign. Somehow, despite being in prison, I hoped that he wouldn't lose anything. I couldn't bear the thought of someone else living in the only place that had ever felt like home to me. I hadn't even recognized the feeling until it was too late.
But seeing the house in the exact shape it was before isn't nearly as shocking as Inspector Willoughby outside the home when I arrive. I give the cabby a generous tip, best I can manage now that I don't have unlimited funds. Still, I cried in his cab and made him wait for some time before I could work up the nerve to get out of the car.
"Inspector?" I ask when I step out.
"Fucking knew you wouldn't stay away," the inspector grumbled. His words were slurred, and I realized he was wearing jeans. When I’d seen him before, though he wasn’t as smartly dressed as Jacob (no one ever was), he was wearing a suit.
I'd never seen him in anything casual, much less the tattered old jeans with a few mystery spots on them. Some looked like beer I assumed with the smell and the speech, and some looked like blood. I walked up to him, holding myself with shivers in the cold night air. "Are you okay, Inspector? What are you doing here?"
"The question," he said with a laugh that chilled me more than the wind and my pain combined, "isn't why you're here. Of course. You want to build the case with me. I tell you not to get too attached. There's better cock than his, you stupid bitch."
I start to step back. There's a crazy look in his eyes, and that's scarier than anything he's saying.
"He could have bought and fucked anyone, and that used to bother you, but now you just brought your ass back here because you don't realize anyone else could fuck you so good. Do I need to call you baby girl? Do I need to hit you for you to realize you could have a good man? Why do you want this prick?" He's shouting now.
Desperately, I look in either direction for anyone. Anyone to be out here and to not mean that I'm out here alone with him. I have to get away, and I know that a few brisk steps backward aren't going to do it. I know I need to run away. I need to scream. Yet, my body doesn't want to leave Jacob's house, even though I know he's not there.
Why is the inspector here?
"Calm down," I say, but I'm spinning on my heel and ready to run.
Willoughby lunges for me. I hesitated for just a second too long, and he knocks me to the ground. I try to scream, but he crushes my mouth with his beer-soaked lips and roughly kisses me. My stomach roils, not just because of how much he tastes like several beers too many, but because I don't want him to touch me. I only want Jacob to touch me. This is what violation feels like. Even when I was first scared, never did I feel like this when Jacob touched me. Not even when I was afraid of what Jacob would do to me when I first met him, so long ago, in that hallway. No, this is something entirely different. I can't scream, and I can't get his mouth off mine, he's mashing his lips against mine so hard that our teeth clank. I try to hit him, but he captures my wrists and slams them into the ground. I can't kick or escape because his legs pin me down. I'm trapped, immobile, and I feel his cock jabbing into my stomach. I thought the inspector was attracted to me, but he always acted like such a gentlemen.
What lurks behind the thoughts of men who always act gently?
Jacob always said he was a bastard, and the man was downright filthy. Never would he have done this to me. Ever. I didn't think he was capable of an ugly act like what I knew was happening to me. My body wanted to check out, but my mind was on fire. I would not let this happen. I would stop him. I would be upset later, but I would fight now.
I did the only thing I could, as soon as I realized it was my only opening. I bit his mouth, hard.
"Fuck!" Willoughby groaned and pulled back for just a second.
He was still holding my wrists, but his legs shifted for just a second, and that was all I needed. After all, he was drunk off his ass, and I was feeling several surging rushes of adrenaline. I wasn't going to let this happen.
"I knew you liked it rough, but-"
I interrupted whatever disgusting thing he was about to say by pushing my knees up hard, to his groin. I pulled my arms as hard as I could, kicking my legs furiously. I hoped I looked like a confusing mess of limbs to him. Maybe he was drunk enough it would make him dizzy. I had to get away from him. Jumping up, my first instinct was to run toward the door of Jacob's house. But he wasn't there. I knew I was losing precious time and I turned, gritting my teeth and running in the opposite direction.
That's when I ran into the wall of Jacob's chest.
Willoughby slung curses at Jacob, who I promptly wrapped my arms around. Jacob let one hand free, and I realized he was holding a gun. I heard as he shot Willoughby, and I turned to see the gaping wound in the inspector's stomach. Jacob shot him with one arm wrapped around me.
I felt my stomach turn, and I wanted to throw up. I held in what was rolling around in my gut because I needed to hold onto Jacob even more. I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my head back into his chest. Both his arms wrapped around me. At that moment, I wasn't thinking about how he was here. Why he had a gun. I was just grateful that he was holding me. That Willoughby wasn't going to touch me.
Jacob pulled me up higher on his body, lifting me off my feet until his lips were on my ear. "Run in the house, now." He said it so firmly that my body shot into action. I knew that I had to do exactly what he said.
Grimly, my feet hitting the ground when he released me, I ran with the knowledge that it was because Willoughby was shot but not dead. And Jacob was going to finish the job.
Running for Jacob's door, just like he said, I bolted inside and closed the door behind me, my back sliding against it until I hit the floor. I didn't know by what miracle that Jacob was not in prison, but now he was sure to end up there. I couldn't believe I'd seen him again. That he'd held me again. Only to have him slip out from my fingers again.
"Fuck!" I screamed out, my stomach burning and my eyes burning and my throat burning and my whole body too hot and yet I felt clammy. Shock. I was in shock.
I couldn't pull myself from the door. I didn't want to get up until Jacob was walking through this door. And if he wasn't walking through it, I didn't want to get up ever again.