Page 7 of Knot Your Rebel

As I got out, I threw the keys on the seat behind me and left it unlocked. If someone stole it, so be it. My name wasn’t the one on the registration. I grabbed my bag, the small amount of cash I kept stashed in the car, and left it sitting there, wry for criminal activity.

I didn’t know how long I’d been walking when I walked up to Nova’s front door, but it must have been way more than just twenty minutes. The door flew open as I took my time up the steps. She, thankfully, didn’t turn the light on.

“Oh, babe. Come on, get in here.” She pulled me in, and I winced as her hand dug in where he’d previously grabbed me. Stepping out, she looked to the left and right, making sure I wasn’t being followed before she slammed the door, locked, and dead bolted it.

I didn’t realize how badly I was shaking until her hands came around me in a hug. I flinched but eventually relaxed into it. I was so strung up.

“I don’t need you to tell me what happened right now, but it’s going to be okay.” Her eyes traced over the details of my body; taking in my red, puffy eyes, and the bruises most likely starting to form on my arms. “Oh, babe. He did a number on you, didn’t he?”

That was when the waterworks started. Emotions poured from my eyes in the form of salty liquid burning trails down my cheeks. I didn’t know how I’d come back from this one.

She gently pulled my bag from my hand and dropped it on the couch before ushering me towards the bathroom. Nova pointed to the toilet. “Sit.” I was exhausted and didn’t have it in me to sass her tonight.

Running a warm washcloth under the water, she made sure it was warm but not too hot before lifting it to my face and wiping gently. I hadn’t seen my face, but I could only imagine how bad I looked. Runny makeup, maybe the smear of my eyeliner, the beginning of a shiner…

The tears continued to fall as she cleaned me up gently. The white washcloth she had been using had turned into a mishmash of blacks, tans, and bright red. Blood. I hadn’t been wearing any red makeup. As she went to rub the washcloth over my lips, I cringed. The cut felt like an open wound. I’d split my lip, but I didn’t know if it was because of him or my anxiety-ridden chewing.

Every part of my body hurt, and my mouth was dry like I’d swallowed a cotton ball. My head felt like I’d been on the unlucky receiving end of a punching bag. Truth was, I had been for years. I was just too stupid to realize it. Nova had gotten me set up in the spare bedroom, and then crawled in beside me. I didn’t want to be alone tonight. I fell asleep to the slow drift of her hand through my hair, something her mom used to do when we were young and too scared to go to sleep. My omega calmed right down and slipped away peacefully into the night. Lord knew what the morning would hold… and I prayed to God I’d be ready.

three - rebel

. . .

One Month Later…

I tip the glass up higher, trying to get every last drop out of it. I rest my head back on the couch, and flames lick down my throat as I take another hit of my whiskey. The pain is fleeting. Sometimes it's enough, and sometimes it’s not. The ice in the bottom rattles as I try to right the glass again on the coffee table. My hand shakes just a little. That's a new sensation for me.

My head is messed up over the whole thing. Did my dad really pay him? To what? Watch me and make sure I didn’t get into anything unsavory? I’d done my research after the incident with Brad. Turns out he was on the employee list at my father’s company. How had I missed it? But thinking back, I remember my father always meeting with a beta. I just never registered that he was the beta. The meetings he had were always so hush, hush.

Anger flares and burns down my veins, heating everything in its path. I’m hot to the touch. It’s just the alcohol.

In a few hours, I’ll be good. I’ll be so numb that I can’t remember what my own name is. Nova will give me that look she gets way too often, but I won’t stop, I can’t. It's the only thing that shuts off the thoughts, the memories, and the fears. A part of me feels guilty, until l take that next drink and forget the lump in my throat.

I need to get out of here and find a job. I can’t keep relying on Nova to take care of me. I’m an adult for God sakes. My eyes find my recently purchased phone laying on the table before me. I sigh… It’s so far away, and it would take way too much effort to get it right now. I’ll just close my eyes here for a minute.

“Honey, I’m home!” Nova singsongs as she walks through the front door, and I’m wide awake in an instant. My senses flare as I take note of my surroundings. I’m still in the middle of the couch in the living room. After a few seconds, my heart fades a few beats less per minute. It’s just Nova. It’s not him. There’s a kink in my neck that tells me it did not gel with the way I was sleeping. I rotate my head slowly from left to right, hoping to stretch it a bit, but end up wincing. Shit.

These days, I’m always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the day Brad decides to pop back into my life and finish the job. Or finish what he promised me the day I ran. I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut to shun the memories that slowly creep in like a dense fog on a hazy cemetery night.

I’m frozen on the couch. My chest pounds out a staccato beat. I shouldn’t be this scared every time someone opens the goddamn door. It’s not like he actually ever hit me, just held a little too tight, but that night, I succumbed to the fear, and it seems it won’t be leaving any time soon.

My phone rings from the coffee table, and I jerk towards it. I can’t be sure they’re him because they come from either a blocked number or an unknown one, but who else would call this much? How could he have gotten my new number? The paranoia creeps in on a regular basis.

I can picture him now, sitting on the burgundy couch, expecting me to come home, beer in hand, unbathed, and manic-looking. His eyes darkened with twisted malice, a disgusting smirk painting his lips.

Had he been an alpha, he could’ve used his bark against me to do his bidding, but thank the stars he wasn’t one.

The memory of the sneer forming across his lips is fresh in my mind. Venom spews from those terrible lips as he humiliates me, trying to tear me down; to break me. The demise of our relationship sits firmly on his shoulders.

He is our ruin.

The blame is his.

Thoughts swirl back to a hundred what ifs.

What if he’d marked me? Shackles would’ve had me bound to him with the only escape being a painful, heartbreaking death. A shiver reeks havoc down my spine.

A voice calls to me, its volume increasing as I pay it more attention.. “Rebel…Rebel…” It’s as if I’m being called out of a deep, dark hole. My ears reach out but don’t fully grasp it before I’m distracted, getting swept away with more unwanted thoughts battering at my brain.

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