Page 87 of Did They Break You

She bites her lip, her eyes on my hand.

“You all fucked up, baby?”

She says nothing.

“Answer me.”

She doesn’t say or do anything.

Until she does.

She snaps her head up, drops her phone through a crack in the slates of the bench, her arms shooting out, colliding with my shoulders, shoving me away from her.

She stands to sidestep me, but I get to my feet, too, and grab her wrist. She claws at my arm, trying to get me off of her, and her nails line up against the wounds from my own. I wince, letting her go from the surprise of the pain. She turns, like she’s going to run.

“Stop, Remi,” I tell her softly, rubbing my hand up my arm.

Her shoulders heave as she faces away from me, into the darkness of the graveyard.

“Where you gonna go, huh?” I step closer, a foot away, dropping my hands by my side. “How long are you gonna run from me? From this?”

She stiffens, her own hands clenched into fists, her golden eyes glimmering with anger as she spins to face me. “Forever,” she answers, her voice low. “I want nothing to do with you. Don’t you get that?” She closes the space between us, brave all over again. She slaps her hand against my chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I was here, alone. I wanted to bealone.”She hits me again, and that anger grows under my skin. “Haven’t you done enough to me?”

“When did it become rape, do you know?” I counter, arching a brow as I step closer, staring down at her. “In your head, what moment was it? Because in my truck, you were in my lap, and you sure as fuck seemed to like what I was doing?—”

She slaps me. In the face.

Hard.

It triggers something in my brain, and I’m imagining my mom with Tristan, and his glasses, his hand over his face, his freckles livid, his eyes filled with tears.

I react on instinct, my palms out, knocking her to the ground as I fall on top of her, cradling her head. Her breath leaves her ina rush, and for a moment, we’re both frozen as my body covers hers, and I shift my palms to either side of her head.

Then she’s thrashing beneath me, hitting my chest, twisting her face, trying to push me off.

I grab her wrists in one hand, pin them over her head so her body is elongated beneath me, my other hand on her face, keeping her still.

“Shh, shh, shh,” I tell her as she cries out underneath me, her eyes screwed up tight, that tongue ring flashing as she tells me to fuck off. “Stop fighting, baby. Stop fighting me.” I whisper the words, pressing my brow to hers, my fingers splayed on her face.

She stills, holding her breath, chest heaving beneath me, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

Her body is trembling, and tears track silently down her pretty face. I inhale her coconut scent, my fingers still pinning her wrists to the ground, her chest brushing mine with every breath she takes. She’s always smelled like a beach, which is a little funny, because that’s the last place I’d ever expect to see Remi Ocean, despite her last name. She was more suited to a cabin. A tent. Secluded away in the woods. She came alive when we went to the park those times. Just a handful, but it was enough to see her spark. I always thought she’d love where I grew up, in West Virginia.

Now, it’s like her spark went out. Like she’s disappeared into herself. Trying to hide.

Because of me.

“It’s okay, Remi,” I whisper, knowing it isn’t as my mouth brushes hers. “It’s okay, baby.”

She makes a whimpering sound, every muscle in her body that I can feel pressed against me coiled with tension. Pain.Anger.

I kiss the top of her head, the little hairs that came free from her bun tickling my face.

Those tears flow freer, and I kiss one. Another.

She shakes harder beneath me. I run my tongue down her jaw, taste the salt of her heartbreak.

“You ruined my life,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. She tries to lift her arms, tries to free herself, but I don’t let her go.

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