Taking the Fall (1-4)

“Fine, if you want to crawl your ass out the window, have at it. Text me when you get home. And text me the cabbie’s ID number too,” she says as she starts to fix her smeared lipstick.

“Hmm…one more favor, Jeanette. Can you wait, like, five minutes before you leave the bathroom, just to be safe? Just to make sure he doesn’t try to run out front or anything,” I ask and give her a pleading look.

“Lays, it’s freaking Justin. He’s not going to cause a scene,” she says exasperatedly and turns to look at me. Her face softens and I’m sure she can see my distress. Luckily she doesn’t know the real reason for it. “All right, I’ll stay in the bathroom.” I cross the tiny space and wrap her in a big hug, not knowing if this will be the last time I’ll see her. I’m not totally sure what I’m going to do once I get out of here. My options don’t seem that great.

“I love you,” I whisper, squeezing her harder before she can pull away.

“Oh Lays, I love you too. Text me, okay? Maybe breakfast in the morning?”

“Okay.” It’s all I can say around the lump in my throat.

Taking one last look at Jeanette, I slip out the window and flag down the first taxi I see. As promised, I text Jeanette the cab number as I give the driver my address.

It’s only a twenty-minute ride back to my house and when I finally make it home I know what I have to do. The time for running is over. I’ve made a life here, and I’m sure if I run again it’ll only be a matter of time before Carter or my father catch up to me once more. Did my father send Carter or is he here on his own? I don’t think my father would hurt me. He loves me. What kind of man could hurt his own daughter? I just can’t let myself believe that, even if I’m lying to myself.

I also run the risk of them hurting Jeanette to try and get to me. That was the final nail in the coffin of my decision to stay. Maybe I can finally get some answers to what happened that night. Maybe those answers will help me remember.

Slipping into the house, I reset the alarm and rearm it before making my way to the bathroom. Pulling my dress over my head, I can smell Carter’s cum on me. Was it just this morning that I was thinking about him having his way with me? Using me for his own pleasure? The reality of it was so much better. That pisses me off.

I hate Carter. I never thought he loved me but I did believe he cared for me when he worked for my father. I sent him all those letters and opened my heart to him but he treated it like it was nothing. I went to the prison wanting answers, wanting to tell him I would wait for him forever but all I got was an icily indifferent man.

I’m guessing the only reason he messed with me tonight was because he just got out, and any woman would do. Any hole’s a goal, right? Or maybe it was part of his game. He had to know how in love with him I used to be. His coming here and toying with me could be part of his revenge. He could destroy my heart and he probably knows it. He’ll use my feelings against me. The stupid, naïve girl who used to chase him around like a lost puppy, the stupid, naïve girl with all her romantic and sentimental fantasies—she was easy to toy with. I played right into his hands. I begged him to fuck me right there. He had his hands on me for two seconds and I was ready to give him everything. It’s pathetic how much I still want him.

In the shower I wash off the remnants of his brand. I wash him from my face, my legs, my thighs—I want him gone. Slipping on a shirt and panties, I glance at the mirror and see the mark he left on my neck. The sight of it makes my nipples hard. I shake my head at myself and flip off the bathroom light. I head for my bed and slide under the covers. I was sure I would have to fight for sleep but I quickly fall under.

“Get up,” the man growls.

I slowly try to stand, feeling like my legs are going to buckle. My whole body hurts and I can taste the blood in my mouth.

All I can focus on is the gun he has pointed at me. The door flies open and my father walks in. Relief washes over me. He’s here to save me from this man, the man in my bedroom.

“She was trying to escape and go to him. I caught her packing and she had this note,” the man I don’t recognize says. I’m confused by how he’s talking to my father. My father reads the note and takes in the packed bag on the floor. My bags. Where am I going? It’s on the edge of my mind.

“You’re a whore just like your fucking mother,” he roars at me with disgust in his voice.

Trying to back up, I run into my bed as my father approaches me. The other man still has his gun aimed at my head.

“At least you’ll be a useful whore,” he snarls, and I have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Take care of her.” These are my father’s parting words before he turns to leave and a gun goes off.

My eyes open and a scream is ripped from my throat. “I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER!”

Then Carter is on me.

LAYLA

“Shh,” I soothe. I heard her cry and was on her instantly. I reach over and flip on the lamp beside the bed so that I can see her, but I then move back in place quickly.