Page 68 of Scarred in Silence
“But he stopped me. He drugged me, and then I woke up with my jaw wired shut. Then I called you…”
I sob into my knees on the couch. He stands, looking amused by my actions.
“So let me get this straight. I was gone for five days, and you let two men fuck you?”
His accusatory statement makes bile rise into my throat.
“No… They raped me,” I choke out.
“Were you wet for them?”
“Lucien, stop!” I cry out.
“WERE YOU?” He screams. His veins are pulsing visibly in his neck.
“YOU FUCKING WERE!”
He is irate. I’m fucking scared. My body trembles, and my sobs grow louder.
“Don’t fucking cry. You let Nicolette dictate what you did with your own fucking body. You had a choice. You chose wrong.” He storms out of the room and outside.
I hear his bike start, and he is gone. He didn’t have to do that. I was just being honest. I thought we were past this.
I cry to myself.
Why does everything always have to end badly for me? Now Lucien doesn’t even want me. The one person who always loved me.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
* **
I sit in the bedroom, staring at the mirror on the ceiling above the bed. He was gone all night. I don’t know where he went. All I know is he is mad at me.
I didn’t do anything. He is the one who brought me to his sleazy cousin’s house. How is any of this my fault?
I wish I had a fucking phone. I need to see Evelyn. I fucking miss her. She would know what to say right now.
Then, I have a thought. Lucien brought all of my belongings here, which means I have a fucking phone. I walk into the closet and start rummaging through everything. I throw everything on the ground, searching for it.
I knock a box off the shelf, and a bunch of notes and photos fall onto the ground. I pause, looking at the hundreds of photos surrounding me.
I lift up the first picture. It’s of Lucien and me at a haunted house. We both look so happy. The next is a photo of me while I’m sleeping. He wrote a date on the back. It’s from when I was 19 years old.
I pick up one of the notes. It reads:
You were never supposed to matter this much.
I told myself you were a means to an end—a loose thread I needed to cut, a voice I needed to silence. But you never fucking shut up, did you? Even when you weren’t speaking, you were still in my head. Screaming. Laughing. Crying,. Taunting me.
You haunt everything. Your eyes haunt me with every glance.
I should hate you. I should end you. But instead, I crave new ways to keep you. To own you. To ruin you so no one else will ever want what’s mine.
They think I’m obsessed. Maybe I am. But obsession is just a symptom of possession—and I fucking possess you. Whether you want it or not.
You’ll never be free of me, little Siren. Not because I trap you… But because deep down, I think you want me to.
—L
