Page 20 of Living Without

Before he walked off, I offered, “Goes both ways, man.” I wasn’t much of a talker, but for him. The way he’d been with me, his silent support, I’d open up.

He smirked. “One day I will. For now, let’s concentrate on gettin’ your woman back.”

“Deal.” I nodded.

Chapter Seven

NARY

As soon as they’d had enough of me in the shower, I was ordered out by one man while another threw a towel at me. After I quickly dried, my stomach churning from all of the eyes on me, a silky white slip was placed in my hands. I threw it on, sick of the eyes on my body. What I would have loved was jeans, a skivvy, boots, and even a beanie. Tears threatened. How had Kelsey put up with it all for eight months? I wanted to stab them all in the eyes as they kept their unwanted gazes on me. The slip did nothing to hide my body.

An ache in my chest started. I wasn’t beyond throwing myself to the floor and crying. Even though the room was cold, sweat pooled at the back of my neck, and the hairs on my arms raised. My body didn’t know what it wanted to do.

“Over to the sink. Do some make-up,” Stan ordered. With slumped shoulders, I silently made my way over. I hadn’t noticed when we’d come in, but the last sink was covered in all sorts of make-up. “Hurry up with it,” Stan added.

I sat at the chair available there and looked at myself in the mirror. I had bags under my eyes, and my tanned skin had already paled. Without too much thought, I picked up the foundation and started to apply it. Even if I couldn’t take my body away from the situation, I could at least take my mind, so I pretended. I let my mind think of myself getting ready for a date, and even though I wanted it to be Jerimiah I was getting ready for, it wasn’t. Saxon’s face and form was always the first on my mind.

Was I self-harming thinking of Saxon? Probably. He’d never been the gentle, sweet man I knew Jerimiah was. He was harsh and brutal to the point it hurt my heart. Yet, I still couldn’t let go, even after having four months of a perfect relationship with Jerimiah. Saxon would always hold a piece of my heart.

Did it make me pathetic? Yes.

Did I think of him as my knight in shining armour? Yes. He’d saved me in so many situations, how could I think of him as anything less?

If he’d just let go of whatever was holding him back, holding him away from me, I knew we’d be happy.

God, unless he really didn’t want me.

Tears touched my eyes. I closed them and took a deep breath. No, I had to believe there was something holding Saxon away from me. The looks I had received when he thought I couldn’t see told me he had feelings and those feelings ran strong. Why else would he want to protect me?

“Hurry the fuck up,” was snarled, causing me to jump and open my eyes to see the man, who had dragged me into the bathroom, standing there.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I applied some eyeshadow.

“Malcolm. What’s it to you?”

A laugh escaped me. His name was fitting since it was shared by another monster who’d tried to rape and kidnap me when I was sixteen.

“What you laughing for?” he asked with a growl.

Shrugging, I said, “Nothing.”

“Why you want to know my name then?”

Meeting his gaze in the mirror, I told him, “Because when my family comes, I need to tell them I want you killed second.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, okay, sweetheart. Who’s first then?”

“Baxter,” I whispered.

He stepped forward and fisted my hair at the back, forcing my head his way so he was leaning over my face. His other hand went to my neck. “You’re dreaming. No one is coming for you, and if you keep giving me shit, I’ll make you pay. Baxter will even give me permission.” With that, he pushed my head forward. My hands landed on the sink, make-up flying everywhere. “Pick that shit up and finish.”

My hands shook as I reached to the floor to grab the fallen items. When I sat back up, I picked up the eyeshadow again and went back to pretending.

* * * *

The room Malcolm led me to was what I imagined a porn set would look like. It was a bedroom. The double bed was covered in red silk sheets, the walls covered in black, the carpet a plush white. My stomach rolled when I spotted a man dressed in a coffee-stained shirt and black slacks. His feet were bare, which I found strange. Then again, everything there was strange, painful, and sick.

He stood in the corner with a smile on his face, holding a camera. “You look amazing,” he cooed at me, then licked his lips. My stomach rolled. I hunched my shoulders and quickly averted my gaze. The guy freaked me out. Actually, that was stupid, because he wasn’t the only one. All of them did.

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