Ava
I’m in a haze, a dark haze, drifting aimlessly, until I hear a voice. His voice. Near me. There’s another man’s voice too, but it sounds far away. My lids feel heavy, my body hurts. One place especially. My hip. Why does my hip hurt? Then I remember. I remember it all. The boot on my thigh. The white hot stab of the iron. The pain. The smell of burning flesh. I must’ve passed out then, because I don’t remember anything else, or how I got here. I want to weep, weep so bad, but I hold it in, not wanting to give myself away. There’s more pain, in my shoulders, and I’m cold. It takes a minute for me to figure out my arms are bound behind me, and I’m naked. I grit my teeth to keep the scream in. Instead, I try to focus on where I am.
I peer through my lashes to see flashes of dark wood and brown leather, blurry shapes that resemble a desk and a sofa. Beneath me, I make out the brown and white patches of a cowhide rug, with natural hardwood beyond, and know I’m lying on my side on the floor.
“What do you mean you can’t keep him?” Shayne’s voice spikes, grabbing my attention. The other voice comes in again, coming from a speakerphone. A voice I now recognize as Sheriff Carson.
“Like I said, he’s got bigwig lawyers. He’s a fucking movie star, Shayne! You didn’t think that would bring some heat down on me? The fucking press is all over the place. Christ, even the damn county DA called me already, grilling me up and down about this.”
“I don’t give a fuck who he is! I want his ass to stay in jail! I got a witness. She’ll sign a statement.”
“And he’s got old man Hanley saying just the opposite. Saying you attacked him. Claimed it was self-defense.”
“Fuck!”
“Sorry, Shayne. My hands are tied here. I got to let him go. And unless you want a shit storm of publicity on your hands, I say drop the charges. Ain’t nothing good gonna come from it.”
Silence, then Shayne’s tight-lipped voice. “Fine. Drop the fucking charges.” With a click the static is gone, followed by a loud crash of things falling to the floor.
More silence follows, for what seems like an eternity, until I hear the creak of a chair, followed by footsteps. They grow louder until I see his boots next to me. The beast is close. So close. I struggle to stay completely still, but know my breathing gives me away.
“Found yourself a movie star, did you?”
His voice is quiet, but the fury is there, buried just beneath the surface, yet still so loud. Slowly, I open my eyes to see him towering over me, looking oddly weary, then he steps away and collapses onto the sofa, staring at me.
“What happened to you?” he asks, his gloomy gaze roaming over my body. “You’re covered, in cuts, and bruises, some the size of fingertips. And you’ve got bite marks, on your neck.” Shayne leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed. “Did he do that to you?”
I blink, but can’t bring myself to answer.
He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure it out. “I saw the way you looked at him. So…if it was him…” He pauses. “Then…you must’ve liked it. Is that it, Ava? Do you like it rough? Do you like it when it hurts?”
My throat tightens and I look away.
Shayne sighs and the silence comes again.
It’s daunting. Before, when he was full of anger, the beast was easier to read, easier to predict. But this—this dreaded calm is so much worse. I have no idea what’s coming.
The sofa creaks and he’s up and moving again. His footsteps stop behind me, where he crouches down, and with a surprisingly gentle touch, he rolls me over so I’m on my stomach. I tremble when he runs a fingertip over a cut, then another one. “We both know I’m not a tender man, Ava, but I would’ve taken care of you. I would’ve made it good for you.”
His words are spoken so quietly, so sincerely. But it’s a trick. The beast is playing tricks.
I brace when his finger moves to my hip, circling where he’s marked me. “You might find this hard to believe,” he says, his voice growing softer, “but I meant what I said at the altar. I do promise to do those things. But it didn’t mean I wouldn’t punish you, wouldn’t hurt you for what you did to me. You lied to me. You broke your word to me.” He pulls my hair back, so he can see my face. “Didn’t you?”
I close my eyes and swallow.
“What was our deal, Ava, hmm?”
A tear pushes past my lashes, and he runs his thumb across my cheek, wiping it away.
“I know you remember it,” he goes on. “Think back. Think back to that day. It was hot, wasn’t it? And you’d just come out of the bank, looking so damn pretty, and so damn sad. You’d dolled yourself up in a little white dress with those little red roses all over it, and you’d even put your hair up in a ponytail and tied it off with a bow. But it didn’t work, did it? You had that crumpled up foreclosure notice in your hand, looking like the world was about to end. But I was waiting for you, wasn’t I? I was standing by your daddy’s truck that you were driving then, because you’d just turned sixteen.”
He strokes my hair now, while my body keeps trembling.
“And you thought I was there to torment you,” he chuckles. “That’s what you said, remember? But I wasn’t. I’d heard about your lame-ass daddy being sick, and that you were about to lose your place too, so I knew what you were up against. I was there to offer you a way out. I said I’d pay for everything, didn’t I? The mortgage, the bills, the food—all of it. But in exchange I wanted everything from you too, and with no restrictions. Now, I know I was trying to get the better of you, but you drove a hard bargain. But I’d expect no less from you, Ava. So, what’d we settle on, hmm?”
He waits, but knows I won’t answer.
“For every month he stays alive—every month I pay—you give me a month in return. That’s it, wasn’t it? That’s what we agreed on? Gotta say, I was only figuring for a year at the most because of what the docs gave him. Still can’t decide if it was my luck, or your luck that had him lasting five years. All I know is that was a long-ass time for me to wait.”
He sighs and runs his fingers along my jaw. “Anyway…there was more though, wasn’t there? You were so proud. So strong. You had your one condition. You said I couldn’t touch you until he was gone. That was a hard one for me, Ava, but I went along. Then I countered by saying that when the time came, you would come live with me, 24/7. And I could see by the look in your eyes that was a tough one for you, so I sweetened it, didn’t I? I said at the end of our time together, I’d pay off your mortgage, so that place would be yours free and clear. I thought that was pretty decent of me, don’t you think? But there was something else too, wasn’t there? There was one final bit of that deal. One last little detail, but it was so important.”
Shayne gives a little tug on my hair as more tears seep through my lashes and onto the rug.
“Come on, Ava. You can say just this last little bit can’t you? I know you remember it. No? Well, let me help you. I’ll give you a hint. See, I knew you were a virgin at the time. That fucker on the side of the road had tried to take your cherry from me, but you fought him off, didn’t you? Attempted rape it had been called, not rape. And I’d kept a real close eye on you growing up, and you were so quiet, and so shy, that I knew no one else had gotten to you.”
His hand threads into my hair, and slowly settles around the base of my neck, tightening as he speaks. “So what was it, hmm? What was that last little detail that I made sure you understood? Oh yeah. No one touches you. NO ONE!!!”
Those last two words tear through my ears in a violent shout that echoes inside my skull as he cuts off my air completely and smashes my head into the rug.
“I know I made it clear. I’m sure I did. I even asked you if you understood. And in this voice so small, you whispered, ‘I understand.’ Remember that? REMEMBER THAT, AVA??!!”
I start to thrash, desperate for air, when he lets me go, grabs my hair and yanks my head back, his lips at my ear. “But you lied to me. You broke your word to me. I never figured you for that kind of girl, but know that I know this about you, I don’t feel so bad over what I’ve done, or what I plan to do.”
Shayne hauls me to my feet by my hair, then drags me from the room and out into the hall. My legs wobble as I stumble after him, glimpses of stone walls and wood beams blurring past me. We finally come to a wooden door with large metal hinges that he opens and shoves me through, so hard I fall to my knees. The door slams behind me and then he’s there, looming over me, and in a cold, hard voice, he says, “Now it’s my turn.”