Page 71 of The Boy I Loved
Dominic’s pants filled the space between us, the sound of his hips slapping against the back of her thighs echoing through the basement. He turned his head, locking his gray eyes onto mine as he continued torapeher. He did it so easily—like it was second nature.
In this moment, I hated him. I hated him so much it ate me from the inside out until it festered inside me, blistering the warm fluids running through my veins. He wasn’t doing this just to prove a point. He was doing this because he wanted to. It was as simple as that. For a brief moment, I’d let myself hope. I’d allowed myself to think that there had to be some kind of logical explanation for this, that there was no way in hell he’d do the things he was doing now of his own volition. He proved me wrong.
After a while, his thrusts became uncoordinated until he was jerking against her, his moans echoing from cell to cell. A groan rumbled through his chest, his fingers digging into her sides as he spilled into her ass, never taking his eyes off mine.
Thiswas the boy I’d pined after all this time? This … this fuckingmonster. What did that say about me? The signs had to have been there. I couldn’t have been that fucking blind.
Dominic pulled out of her, a mixture of semen and blood trickling down her legs and splattering against the floor between them. He was breathing heavily as he righted himself, not seeming to care about the blood covering his legs or cock as he tucked himself away and tugged his jeans and boxers up over his hips, fastening them like he didn’t just commit the vilest, most inhumane act that existed. He pulled himself to his feet, not bothering to help Nia, who seemed to struggle pushing herself up off the floor.
When my eyes connected with Dom’s again, I let him feel it all: the rage brewing within me, the hurt, the shock, and the pure hatred.
Tristan slapped a hand against Dom’s shoulder, a grin splitting his stupidly handsome face. “You never cease to surprise me,” he praised, like what Dominic just did was something to be proud of.
Images flashed within my mind—memories of running through the woods, laughing while Dominic chased me. The first kiss we shared and how it felt in that moment. There was a yellow butterfly, the one I’d found in the woods. Birthday parties, camping trips, friendship developing into more. It all hit me like a tidal wave, flooding through me with a viciousness that set me off balance. None of it mattered anymore. Because with one, horrendous act … Dominic had ruined it all.
Ididsee him differently now.
He was a horrible person with no humanity left. How could I love someone who would do things like this to someone else, even if it was to keep me safe as he so eloquently put it? The answer was simple. I couldn’t.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DOMINIC
It waslike watching a trainwreck happen from the outside of my own body. I knew what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop it. Maybe it was for the best. I couldn’t allow her to keep loving the idea of me. If she wanted to love me, she needed to love me for who I was—who I turned into. I’d doanythingto protect her. If raping women kept her safe, I’d rape them all. If that made me a monster, so fucking be it. She was the only one who mattered in here. I’d kill the lot of them if it protected her. It wasn’t what Iwantedto do, but I’d do it. It was either her or Nia, and I’d be damned if there was an option to protect Hazel and I didn’t take it.
Hazel wanted to save Nia, but the truth was … Nia was already dead. Tristan planned on killing her. She’d been on the top floor prior, but since she couldn’t keep her shit together after having her baby taken from her—not that I blamed her—she was moved down here so she didn’t disrupt everyone else. Tristan stupidly knocked her up. He couldn’t kill her while she was pregnant; that was where his line was. Not to mention, he wanted the baby. He just didn’t want the girl who birthed him. Tristan probably would have killed her now if I hadn’t stepped in, not that I was a white knight—I was far from it. But hopefully it bought Nia a little bit more time, and it kept her from being brutally assaulted right after she’d given birth.
Well … she wasstillassaulted, but not vaginally. I offered her the only mercy I could.
Hazel didn’t understand. I didn’t only do it for her, but I would have. Even if Nia’s fate wasn’t already sealed, I’d fucking do it. But in this instance, if Tristan had done it himself, she would have been worse off.
“I need a cigarette,” I grumbled, patting the front of my pocket where my pack of cigarettes resided. “You good?” I glanced over at Tristan who still had that manic look in his eyes.
“Yeah. But you fucked my bitch. Now I have to find someone else. I’m not into gaping holes or jizz that didn’t come from my own body.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Maybe you could fuck Lauren back to normal,” I joked, though the words tasted like acid as they vacated my mouth. The girl had every right to be distraught after being assaulted with a severed hand. I only mentioned it, so he didn’t get any ideas about saying ‘fuck the lab results’ and going after Hazel. He was unpredictable and could change his mind at the drop of a hat.
Tristan thought about that for a moment, a stitch forming between his brows while he contemplated it. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. I haven’t fucked her since the day her results came back.”
Seeing as how he didn’t beat the shit out of her, it was safe to assume she wasn’t as loose to him as Stacy was. Maybe Stacy wasn’t loose at all, and he’d just been in a bad mood. It was hard to tell with him.
I spared one last glance at Hazel who hadn’t bothered moving from the bars, her knuckles white as she gripped them tightly. There were a variety of different emotions flickering across her face, her jaw feathering slightly where she clenched it. She hated me now.Even though that was what I wanted, it still had a heavy weight settling over my chest. Loving me would only get her killed.
I made my way through the basement, ignoring the sticky substances coating my hand, thighs, and cock. I’d shower after my shift, but it wasn’t an immediate concern. I was used to feeling disgusted in this place. As I reached the door, I heard Tristan cussing out Nia for being useless or some shit like that. He’d probably kick her before she managed to get to her feet and force her to start the process all over again. He was a piece of shit like that.
When I stepped outside, I tipped my head back, relishing the cool breeze settling over my skin. This wasn’t anything worse than some of the shit I’d done, but it was up there with the rest. I’d killed women on Clay’s orders, brutalized them, degraded them, and tortured them. So much had happened in the two and a half years that I’d been gone. The moment I fucked Anya, I knew there was no going back. You didn’t simply just …recoverfrom something like that. It was the kind of shit that stayed with you forever, taunting you, and swimming at the recesses of your mind.
I fished out my pack of Marlboros and took one from the box, positioning it between my lips before digging out the lighter and lighting it. The smoke seeped into my lungs instantly, filling them until I had no choice but to exhale.
My eyes peered off into the darkness. From here, I could make out the outline of trees hovering around the large, electric fence. This place was a prison. There was so much death, so much trauma, and so much agony.
I thought back to Alice. She was why I was doing this, why I’d been forced to do this in the first place, slipping further and further into the hole I kept digging. Hazel was everything, but Alice was my sister. The feelings there were different, and I wasn’t sure what I would have done had they snatched her up instead. Mom wouldn’t survive if she lost us both.
I took another drag of my cigarette, blowing out the smoke in alarge plume before me. It drifted toward the sky slowly before disappearing altogether.
My throat constricted with the weight of my sins, drowning me in an eternal abyss of doom and regret I couldn’t escape. Maybe I should just let Clay kill me. I could beg him to take me out of my misery—not that he would. He enjoyed my suffering about as much as I hated it. But if I died, who would be here for Hazel? It was no secret that she was better off without me, but at least if I was here, I could do what I could to make things the tiniest bit easier for her.
Until she’s sold or forced to work at a whore house. Maybe she’ll get off easily and be thrown into one of the strip clubs.
