Page 81 of Bound By Threads
“For what?”
“Revenge…” I say simply. “You told Crew he was first. Am I next?”
Lottie shrugs. “You could be. I thought for a long time about what would be the best revenge for you. For the man who demanded so much from me, and gave me nothing in return.”
I open my mouth to protest, to explain, but she holds up a hand, silencing me. “No. You don’t get to speak yet. I want you to be silent like I was.”
“You convinced me you cared,” she continues, her voice low. “You fed me lies, made me believe you would hold me together when I felt like everything was falling apart. That yousawme…” she huffs out a laugh. “And I was the foolish naïve girl who believed it.”
Her eyes narrow, and I feel a pang of guilt twist in my chest.
“But the next day,” she goes on, her voice barely containing the tremble. “You were using it against me. You used my loneliness as a weapon to break me, then used those broken pieces to piece yourself back together.”
Any words I could say catch in my throat.
What can I say?
How can I defend myself when she’s right?
“You think you know pain,” her voice rises, like it’s been building for years. “You think you know what it’s like tosuffer?”
She steps closer, each word cutting into me like broken shards of glass.
I want to argue. Say I do, and that I suffered too. That losing her nearly killed me, but the words die in my throat the second her voice breaks.
“I was screaming,” she admits, the sound cracked and shaking. “Why wouldn’t you help me?”
She’s crying now, but it’s not soft or fragile. It’s brutal, like her body is trying to purge every ounce of pain she’s carried for years in a single breath.
“You locked that door… left me there. I couldn’t move. Pinned to the floor like an animal, and all I could do was scream and pray that someone would come.”
She jabs her finger into my chest.
“I cried.”
Poke.
“I pleaded with him to stop.”
Poke.
“I begged,” her voice splinters. “And screamed, and not one of you tried to help me.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. “God…” I breathe, because I can’t think of anything else to say.
“There is no god, Elijah.” Her voice is cold now. “Not one who gave a damn about me that day. That day I learned I was alone, and I swore I would never let another man get the satisfaction of hearing me beg again.”
My chest tightens. “We were told your dad picked you up… I swear, Mouse, we had no idea you were still in that room…” Then the realization hits me. The puzzle pieces click into place—and I hate how clear it is now—how obvious. “It’s why you stopped talking.”
“It was survival,” she says. “If I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t be ignored. If I didn’t speak, no one could twist my words. Silence became my armor, and it worked.”
I nod, the weight of everything feeling like it’s pulling me under.
“I killed him, you know?” I tell her, and for once, the coldness in my voice isn’t armor. It’s grief and regret. “The moment I found out what he did to you… I killed him.”
Her eyes flicker for a moment. “You didn’t do that for me. Don’t try to make yourself sound noble.”
“I did,” I start, but she cuts me off with a bitter laugh that makes my heart sink.
