The Sinister Silhouette

“It’s kind of hard for me to believe that when you were shoving your fingers inside me, and I tried begging you to stop. That hurt, Theo.”

He pushes himself back inside in pants and gets up from the bed. Angrily, he swipes his hair back from his face. “It sure didn’t sound like it hurt when you were moaning in my mouth.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep back from screaming at him. Tears sting my eyes as I remember the pain from his touch and the terror of thinking he wouldn’t stop.

My voice breaks when I speak again. “I wasn’t moaning because it felt good. I was whimpering because of the pain, you asshole.”

For the first time, there’s a hint of remorse on his face. His eyes drop away from mine and he turns away, giving me his back. His shoulders rise and fall as he stands there for several seconds. When he turns back, the pain in his eyes is stark.

“I’m sorry.”

This time I believe him, but it still doesn’t make it okay. Instead of answering his apology, I accept it with a nod. His gaze runs over my huddled form against the headboard before he bends to grab a shirt from the floor.

“I’m going out. I’ll be back later.”

I don’t bother to ask where he’s going, not really caring. I just want to be left alone. A moment later, he leaves the bedroom, leaving the door open so the light from the hallway filters in. It’s not until I hear the front door open and close that I breathe easily again.

When I squeeze my eyes closed, tears slip from the corners and slide down my cheeks, splashing on my raised knees. I open my eyes, and something catches my attention. Bile rises in my throat when I realize it’s blood.

I scramble from the bed, suddenly feeling dirty and used. Rushing to the bathroom, I turn on the shower and quickly get undressed. The water hasn’t warmed yet when I step behind the flimsy plastic curtain, but the cold doesn’t register. I just need the filth washed away.

Grabbing the wash cloth, I squirt on a bunch of body wash, squish the material until there’s a good lather, and scrub at my skin. I start with between my legs and wince at the soreness. When I see the soapy water running down my legs has a red tint, I gag. I close my eyes and finish washing myself, tears falling to mix with the water.

I don’t know how long I scrub between my legs, but I do it so much that the pain becomes unbearable. I finish washing the rest of my body, then sag back against the shower wall, then sink down to the floor, dropping the rag beside me. I stay there until the water turns cold, and I’m forced to get out.

Grabbing the towel off the rack by the shower, I dry off, then stand in front of the mirror. My eyes immediately move to the raw skin on my upper thighs where I tried washing away the feeling of Theo between them. I quickly advert my gaze, not wanting to believe he would have actually raped me, but knowing deep inside he would have, had I not bitten his lip. Despair has me sucking in a breath when I realize I’m stuck here. With my parents still not answering my phone calls and having no money, I have nowhere to go. I don’t know what to do.

Luca’s face enters my mind again, but then I remember I can’t ask him for help. Not after what I learned about him.

Putting that aside for the moment, my eyes travel to the tattoo on my side. I don’t remember getting it. I had always wanted one, but never thought I would be brave enough to go through with it. Turning to the side to get a better look, I notice the artwork is really beautiful. It’s a heart, one side black and the other side purple. It’s stitched up the middle. The top half of the heart seems to be old with cracks, but further down the heart, the cracks seem to mend and become new again.

Theo said I got it to signify our love. My lips tighten. I may have loved him before, but he’s obviously not the same man I fell in love with all those years ago.

I turn back to fully face the mirror, and my eyes fall on a scar. I run my finger along the line of skin that?

?s about four inches in length on my lower stomach. Theo told me I was cut with a shard of glass when I was attacked and needed seventeen stitches. Pain etches itself across my chest thinking about Luca being the source of this scar.

I turn away from the mirror and wrap the towel around me, hoping Theo isn’t back yet. Opening the door, I listen and hear no sounds coming from the bedroom or the rest of the house. Letting out a sigh of relief, I leave the bathroom and go to Aria’s bedroom. I silently thank God she wasn’t here tonight. Grabbing a fresh pair of pajamas, I slip them on, then go back for the ones I left in the bathroom. I take them to the trash can in the kitchen, knowing I won’t be able to wear them again because of the blood now staining the material.

With my hair still wet and tangled, I pull it up into a ponytail, already not looking forward to the mess it’ll be tomorrow, but too tired to brush it out tonight.

There’s no way I’ll be sleeping in Theo’s bed tonight, so I go back into Aria’s room and climb into the twin bed. Aria’s scent hits me, and an ache settles inside me. I don’t want to stay here anymore, but I also don’t want to leave Aria. I’ve come to love her in the short time I’ve been here.

Feeling helpless on what to do, I decide to think about it tomorrow. My eyes feel heavy, so I close them, letting sleep take away my troubles for the night.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Luca

I SIT IN MY TRUCK behind an old rusted Astro van two houses down from the one I’m watching, my thumb impatiently tapping at the steering wheel. I glance down at my phone to check the time, then look up just as Theo walks out the front door to his car. Backing out of the driveway, he heads in the opposite direction of where I’m parked. I wait ten minutes before pulling away from the curb and parking in front of the brick house.

As I make my way up to the front door, I notice the grass needs to be cut. It’s not as bad as most of the yards in the neighborhood, but it’s still being neglected. Typical Theo. He doesn’t cut it until he’s forced to.

I rap on the door and stand back, waiting for Jules to answer. I don’t worry about Aria being home, as I saw her get on the bus on the corner an hour ago. I know I shouldn’t be here, but Ella called me yesterday and told me when she spoke to Jules over the phone she sounded weird. I was glad to find out that the two women have formed a friendship. Ella has a big heart when she wants to and when she found out that Jules’s parents have written her off and that she has no one else, she softened toward her quickly. I don’t know how often they talk, but I do know Ella has come to the house a couple times to hang out and has even taken Jules to one of her appointments.

Hearing footsteps on the other side of the door, I brace myself to see Jules again. It always shocks me after days of not seeing her. The woman is gorgeous, and each time my eyes land on her, it seems her beauty grows. But it’s not her looks that shock me, it’s the hyperawareness I feel each time. Like there’s a livewire that’s attached to both of us and when we’re in the same room it sends a wave of electricity through me. And the possessiveness that damn near wipes away all reason.

When the door doesn’t open, I raise my hand to knock again, thinking maybe it wasn’t footsteps that I heard. Movement off to the side has me looking at the window, seeing the curtain flutter.