Beautifully Destroyed (Beautifully Broken)

“You’re amazing, Finlay.”

Staring at me, she whispers, “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

My lips curve up, but before the smile can fully form, her phone vibrates in my pocket. A dark frown instantly shadows my face as rage shoots to the surface, like a volcano threatening to erupt.

I unlock the screen then stare at the text.

She’s mine. Get the fuck away from her.

Dropping the phone, I dart to my feet, and pulling the gun from behind my back, I check the windows and doors, making sure they’re locked. I switch off the lights, then go stand in front of the living room windows, staring out into the darkness, my fingers flexing around the handle of the gun.

“Ethan?” Finlay whispers, her voice trembling with fear.

“You’re safe,” I murmur, and when I don’t see anyone out front, I pull my own phone from my pocket and dial Dad’s number.

“What happened?” Dad answers immediately.

“The bastard sent another text. It sounds like he’s watching us.”

“I’ll get the sheriff to station a car at your place. Are you okay, though?”

“Yes. Everything’s locked.” I probably won’t close a fucking eye tonight.

“I’ll do a drive-by to make sure everything’s quiet. If the texts keep coming, I want you to come home. You’ll both be safe here with us.”

“We’ll talk about that tomorrow.”

“Let me know if anything else happens.”

“Will do.”

I end the call, and tucking the gun behind my back, I grab Finlay’s bag. Taking her hand, I whisper. “Let’s go to my room.”

She sticks close to my back as I check the guest rooms and toilet, just to be sure.

Once we’re in my bedroom, I shut the door and lock it, then I close the curtains. Turning to Finlay and seeing the terrified look in her eyes while she grips her phone tightly, my heart instantly melts.

Her phone vibrates, and I dart forward, but before I can grab it from her, her lips part in horror as she reads the message, dropping the device with a cry.

Crouching, I check the text.

I still have the condom she bled all over as proof that she’s mine. I’m coming for her.

Motherfucker.

Switching the phone off, I throw it to the corner of the room as I rise to my full height. My eyes lock on Finlay, her face so fucking pale it looks like she’s going to pass out.

“Fin.” I take a cautious step closer to her, unsure if touching her right now is the wisest move.

“I… I…”

Her face distorts, and I reach my hand out to her.

“Can I hold you?”

Finlay’s shaking so fucking badly I can’t be sure if she’s nodding. She presses a hand to her stomach, then a scream tears through her as she sinks to the floor.

I shoot forward, and dropping to my knees, my arms wrap around her. I press my hand to the back of her head as her body jerks. Sucking in a strangled breath, a distraught wail from her obliterates my heart.

I thought I felt helpless before, but what I’m feeling now makes me feel weak in the face of her trauma because there’s nothing I can say or do to make this easier for her.

Chapter 23

FINLAY

Every time I manage to take a breath, it feels like he reaches into my chest to rip the air from me.

I can’t take anymore.

It feels like my soul is hemorrhaging.

I’m his?

What’s killing me is that I feel disconnected from my body. Like he took every inch of me, and my soul is stuck in a foreign vessel.

I’m not my own any longer.

Ethan sits with me while I fall apart. Again. The moments of relief between the assaults are not long enough for me to find my strength.

He’s going to drive me insane.

“I wish I could take your pain,” Ethan groans, his voice so low it sounds like it’s being dragged through the pits of hell to reach me.

“I… It doesn’t feel l-like my b-body’s my own,” I sob against Ethan’s chest. “I f-feel detached. Like h-he took it. Like I’m his to t-torture.”

“You’re not!” Ethan’s palm brushes up and down my back. “Feel my hand?”

I nod, lost sobs fluttering over my lips, my face a feverish mess.

“I’m touching you, Fin. Your body. You don’t belong to anyone, least of all a deranged fucker.” Ethan pulls back, and framing my face, he nudges me to look at him. “Can you feel me?”

“Y-yes.”

“How does it feel when I touch you?” There’s a desperate look in his eyes.

“Safe.”

“And?”

I focus on his palms, gently framing my cheeks.

“Gentle.”

“Good?” he asks, and when I nod, he continues, “You’re not disconnected, Fin. From that fucked up moment in the basement, yes, which is totally understandable, but not right now. Your body is still your own.”

My breaths calm down, and exhausted to my core, I close my eyes. “I don’t have any more strength left.”