Chapter Nineteen
Still trembling, I stumble out of the shower and sway, almost tumbling to my feet. I brace my hand on the wall for support as butterflies course through my veins. After several seconds I steady myself and pick up the towel, drying myself off and slipping my bra and panties on along with a long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.
It didn’t dawn on me until just now as I was rifling through my bag that there is only one bed in this room and I know the jerk isn’t going to sleep on the stained carpet floor. The thought of sharing a bed with him makes me suddenly become cold and a shudder runs through my body.
I fold up the sundress I had on earlier and stuff it in the bag. The knife catches my attention. I pick it up and raise it sluggishly to my eyes to get a better view. Jagged edges and at least a three-inch blade could do wonders if I had the guts to slice Trent up in his sleep. Bit by bit a smile creeps across my face as I picture him begging for his life while I cut out his black heart.
“If only you had the guts to really do it,” I whisper.
I jump and nearly drop the knife when I hear a banging on the bathroom door.
“Hurry the hell up in there! Unlock this motherfucking door now!”
What the hell has him so pissed off now? He’s so damn angry.
“Clove! Open it now!”
Shoving the blade back into my bag and zipping it up, I unlock the door and swing it open and stare into the eyes of my kidnapper and attacker.
“Don’t fucking lock the door again.”
He clutches my arms and pulls me flush against his body. He leans in and plants his face into the crook of my neck and sniffs.
“You smell amazing.”
I cringe and feel my body go downright frigid as he licks his way up my neck to the base of my ear.
“Don’t think for one minute you’re fooling me with those baggy fucking excuse for clothes you have on. I know exactly what’s underneath them. Besides, no matter what you have on, if I want it then I will damn well take it.”
His words make the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I won’t be able to survive another assault. I know I won’t. I am already coming apart at the seams piece by piece.
He finally releases me and snatches my bag out of my hands. For the briefest of moments I panic until he takes a step and tosses it onto the floor next to the bed.
“You’re going to sit right there while I take my shower,” he orders, pointing to the toilet.
“W-why?” I ask.
“Because I don’t trust you and because I fucking said so. Now sit!”
He barks orders as if I’m a dog. Maybe I should lift my leg up and piss all over him, too. I mean seriously, where does he think I am going to run off to? I am just about to ask him when he stands directly in front of me and sheds his clothes.
Lowering my head to the floor, I focus on my toes which are still painted a bright shade of pink. Sighing heavily, I remember the first time I came home after spending several hours at the salon getting pampered with a mani/pedi and a massage and waxing everywhere.
Turner’s mouth practically fell open as I chucked off my flip-flops and laid on the couch, placing my feet in his lap. He loved this color of pink. He skimmed his hands up my legs until he reached the hem of my jean skirt and slightly lifted it to take a peek underneath. When he saw my smooth pussy, he pounced. Well, smooth and red.
“You did all of this for me?” he asked with such a tender expression on his face. I simply nodded in return.
“God, baby, it must have hurt.”
He kept his eyes glued to mine as he gently ran his hands over the top of my mound.
“It hurt like a bitch and I will do it again and again if I get this reaction out of you every time I do it.”
I wiggled my toes in his lap as his thick erection stood at full attention. He lifted his eyebrow as if to challenge me.
“Is that so?”
“You know I would anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.”
And I meant it. I still mean it. I would do anything as long as it gets me back into his arms even for one last time. I will endure all of this pain and suffering. There really are no words to describe the torment I have endured, and after seeing that picture of Turner the other day, I know he is being subjected to some of the same agony I am.
Our love has to be strong enough for us to find our way back to each other and to have our happily ever after. I may have given up all hope of ever being back to the person I was before all of this happened, but I can never give up on true love.
From the very first time I looked into Turner’s eyes I knew he was the one for me, and what a wonderful journey it has been. I miss him. The way he touches me, kisses me, and looks at me. I am myself around him and I pray to God that he won’t be taken away from me. This horrendous, traumatic web of lies, deceit, and worst of all, betrayal on my part is something I have to live with for the rest of my life, and I will, just as long as I have him standing by my side.
The sound of the shower turning off draws me back to reality. I still don’t look up. I simply can’t. I can feel his eyes bore into me as he takes hold of his towel. There isn’t a sound to be heard except for him rustling around drying himself off.
“You need to eat something.”
His demanding tone makes my blood start to boil. Yes, I am starving and extremely thirsty, but if I yield to him and eat, I know I won’t be able to hold it down. I shrug and keep my eyes glued to the floor.
“You’re making this situation harder on yourself than it needs to be,” he says as he walks past me and out into the small, musty motel room.
Now that he is finished with his shower, does this mean I can get up or am I supposed to stay here until he orders me to move? I hear him shuffling around in his black duffel bag he brought in with him and decide I am going to sit here until either he comes in and gets me or I know for sure he is dressed. Seeing him without any clothes on is a mental picture I can live without.
I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear a knock on the door. I go to stand up when he hollers for me to stay put. I stay standing in the middle of the bathroom floor listening to him say thank you and keep the change. He must have ordered some food. I get my answer as I take a large whiff and the aroma of pizza fills my nostrils. My stomach knows there is food and lets out a large growl.
Shutting off the light in the tiny bathroom, I round the small dividing wall and almost stumble right into Trent, who is standing there with his nostrils flaring and his fists clenched tightly to his sides. Taking a step back and out of his reach, I start trembling so badly I don’t think I will ever stop. I shake my head back and forth as if to say no, but he presses forward. I move backwards until I am resting up against the wall.
“You’re really starting to piss me off with this bullshit game you seem to be playing by not talking or eating. Now I am only going to say this one more time, and unless you want a repeat performance of earlier today, you will go sit your ass on that bed and eat.”
He points his finger in the direction of the bed and my eyes follow.
“You’re right.”
I stand tall and defiant. I do need to eat. I definitely don’t want him to put his hands on me ever again, and I need the strength to fight. Stepping aside so I can make my way past him, I plop my ass on the bed and cross my legs. I lift up the lid of the pizza box, and oh God, the smell of it makes me realize I am famished.
Not giving a shit, I pick up a piece and devour it like the starving woman I am. Opening one of the bottles of water that is lying next to the box of pizza, I down it and grab one more slice. I scooch my body back until I hit the headboard and then stretch my legs out in front of me. Like a good little girl obeying her parents, I finish off my pizza as I watch Trent grab the box and sit at the small table next to the window.
Within five minutes he has the rest of the pizza gone and tosses the box onto the floor. He slumps back in his chair. His body language gives away the fact that he is frustrated as he runs his hands down his face and then rubs the back of his neck. Welcome to the club, asshole.
Minutes tick by in this small, confined room and I start to shake my foot for no particular reason at all.
“We need to talk about a few things I need from you.”
He breaks the spell of silence. What could he possibly need from me? This is the second time he has mentioned this. What could I possibly have to do with him getting his hands on all those stupid fucking millions of dollars he craves?
“I don’t know what I have that you need or how I can help you in any way.”
Truthfully I couldn’t care less what he thinks he needs from me, but then again, this isn’t about me. I need to get my head out of my ass and get it on straight to try and get to Turner, so I plaster on what has got to be the fakest smile in all of fake smile history as I turn and look at him.
“What is it you need?”
Good girl. You sounded strong and confident, and even though you are dying inside, do not look away from him.
He already knows you’re scared to death of him and he could crush you completely again and leave you with absolutely nothing. With a will I didn’t even know I possessed, I hold his stare with icy, hate-filled eyes.
“I need my brother’s signature on a few documents and he refuses. You are the only one who I believe can make him sign.”
His smug look and attitude have me laughing inside. I’ll be damned. Trent and his dear old dad can’t do a damn thing without Turner’s signature. If my husband has refused, then I need to play the rest of this game out right. There is no way in fucking hell I will make him sign a damn thing.
Until I see my husband, I am going to make a few demands of my own. This bastard is going to do exactly what I say. I muster my courage and swing my legs off of the side of the bed. When I turn and meet his gaze again, I enjoy seeing the wind taken out of his sails. I stick my hand out.
“If you want me to help you, then let me talk to my husband.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me if you think I am handing over my phone to you and letting you talk to my brother. Are you entirely clueless as to how serious this is? Well, let me fill you in on just how severe and life threatening this whole situation is. Come sit.”
He twists in his chair and pats the bed directly in front of him.
“I am not a damn dog so I would appreciate it if you would quit treating me like one and ordering me to sit. This room is like a jail cell, Trent. I can hear you just fine from right here.”
His head slowly goes down and he looks utterly defeated. I just stand there, lost. When he brings his gaze back up to mine, his eyes are full of unshed tears.
“Clove, I- I am sorry for what I did to you. I have no explanation for it. I did it, and I have to live with it. I am not going to ask you to forgive me because I know you won’t. I mean, how could you, right?” he scoffs. “Please sit down and let me explain things to you. Please.”
For the first time he is pleading with me. My legs move toward the bed and I sit at the edge as far away from him as possible. I have no choice but to listen to him, but no matter what he has to say to me, I will never forgive him for the brutal attack he forced me to endure.
So, he wants me to understand the reasons behind why he is doing all of this? I know I will never be able to understand, and I don’t really want to. He has taken a part of my soul and I will never get it back.
I keep trying to convince myself this was not my fault, but a part of me says it is. I will always think, ‘what if I did this?’ or ‘what if I did that?’ I will never be able to trust my own judgment again. My self-respect is destroyed beyond repair. I will never be my father’s little girl anymore or my brother’s little sister. I will always be Clove, the victim. Clove, the woman who slept with her husband’s brother. Clove, the woman who “allowed” herself to get raped.
I hate myself. Truly hate myself. The only thing I have to live for right now is making sure I do everything I possibly can to help Turner get out of this alive. So with this war currently waging inside my body, I steel myself and face the man who has won the battle.
“I’m listening. Explain.”