We The Pretty Stars (Court High 4)

Rape.

The letters had been big and red, a blur behind cloudy vision. I cried my godda

mn eyes out, as much as I could between bouts of vomiting. Royal gripped me within his strong embrace, not letting go, and eventually, he decided I had enough. He told me my life would change just the day before, to get one last good sleep when we were on the road.

I’d never sleep whole again.

He had me on the road after we left the coroner’s office but not for long. We checked into a hotel, but as far outside of Corrington Meadows as he could get me. It was a bigger town, a nicer city and hotel, and with more than just a bed and small bathroom like the motel he’d checked us into the night prior. We hadn’t had many options in Corrington Meadows, but this new city he’d been able to get a suite. It had three rooms and a giant bathroom, and though I had no idea how much it cost, I had a feeling he spared no expense. Royal basically carried me into the suite at that point, no words shared between us since in Dr. Felton’s office. They hadn’t come from me, of course, all from him for so long…

“There was tearing between her legs, Em…”

I couldn’t breathe again, dizzy, and Royal physically picked me up and secured me in his muscled arms. Like an unshakable mountain, he walked with me to the bathroom, only taking the moments to kick down the lid of the toilet before setting me on top of it. He helped me brush my teeth, then ran me a bath in a tub fit for like five people. Nothing but silence was between us as he gathered the bubbles up and made them nice and big. After he finished, he only left me for the moments it took to get me a change of clothes from my bag. He placed them down when he returned, and after confirming I’d be able to handle the rest, he left me in the bathroom. I sat there for so many moments before deciding the hot water and his labor might do something for me, anything to help.

“…she was dead before it even came down the track.”

I ached in the bath, physically biting my arm to keep from screaming. Eventually, I just laid my head on my arms, my legs braced as the water cooled and the bubbles of the bath disappeared around me. Soon, I was sitting in lukewarm water by myself.

I was unable to do anything else.

“Em?”

Royal had knocked first before speaking, but I hadn’t said anything. Adjusting my legs, I cradled my arms. My sister had been murdered.

My sister had been assaulted.

The tears burned hot, and I closed my eyes, another knock on the door.

“Em, can I come in?”

I must have said yes only loud enough for him to hear. I did want him in here. I did want him with me. I was so alone in my head, and that scared me, terrified me, where I’d go if I let the thoughts in my head go rogue for too long. The door squeaked open, and a boy came in. I barely saw him, unable to even lift my head. It wasn’t until Royal bent and sat on the floor beside the tub I even allowed myself to get a look of him.

I wasn’t the only one who felt this, experienced this. Normally lustrous green eyes were dull, bloodshot and lined with red. His sandy blond hair was all over the place, his fingers ran clear through many times. Pain laced his chiseled features, his strong jaw worked tight but even still, he didn’t address any of it. He didn’t acknowledge what he was feeling. Reaching into the bath, he took my sponge and brought it over my shoulders, the rough tips of his fingers brushing my skin.

I shivered, but not from the chill, leaning into each welcomed touch he gave me. I needed it. I needed his love so much right now.

Washing me seemed to be the only way for him to express it, at a loss for words himself as he bathed me. I sighed when he brought the water over my head, his fingers moving next to wash my hair. He took great care with this, lathering and rinsing before repeating, and after, he braided it. He’d done this before, and I knew he knew how.

He’d done this with her.

I stayed silent, screaming inside. The dull ache only eased a little by Royal’s touch, one I wanted more and more of the more he touched me. His hand ran down my clean back, and I leaned into his touch, silently calling out for him to do more.

He obviously didn’t hear me and reaching into the bathwater, he only did to get me up and to get me dry. I should have felt exposed before him, naked, and though I had, it wasn’t physically. Mentally, I was showing him all my cards, all my pain.

I need you.

I still couldn’t tell him what I needed, not when he dried me off with meticulous care, not when he spread my legs and touched me there. He did none of this sexually, only taking care of me until I was dry. He moved the thick towel over my breasts, and when he stood, desire laced his green eyes. Apparently, I’d misunderstood his disconnect, his want for me too.

Kiss me…

He wouldn’t, and I knew he wouldn’t, not now and with everything that happened. This was all too much, too fresh, and he wouldn’t want to take from me.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t take from him.

I pressed against him, forcing my mouth against his until he let me in. He dropped the towel, his fingers pinching my chin.

“Em…”

That was the first ounce of it, the first moment of pain he allowed me to feel. It emanated off him through his voice and in his touch when he braced my cheeks. I tugged at his shirt, and he worked it off, a perfect specimen of muscle and flesh before me.