Page 11 of Fire Island
He smiles.
And Ihateit.
Bile rises, burning my insides.
“I’m going to let you go now. Okay?”
I nod again with more certainty.
“I love you, Eve. You make me feel everything with your stories and your words, and I know that’s what I want in my life. Always. I want you always.”
A tear slips down my temple as I force myself to not react. To not scream, not fight back. He runs a hand down my arm. Goosebumps trail down it, sending a sickening heat down my spine.
“See, your body understands who I am.”
It most certainly does not.
“Trust me Eve, I will only take what is mine.”
What ishis. . .
A bullet, perhaps?
The long blade of a broadsword . . . ?
Not me.Neverme.
“It will be better with me. You will see.”
“What will be better?” I manage to utter.
His gaze drops to my breasts, then lower, trailing over my stomach. I tamp down the need to cry out. Instead, I whimper and force a nod. I need him to think I’m bending. That I’m coming around.
But he will never have me.
Will not.
One thin finger touches down on my stomach, over the shirt I’m wearing—the shirt I left New York in days ago. It is filthy. “We should get you cleaned up, before.”
Before?
Oh god.
I need to play this smart. Or he will win.
And that is absolutely not happening.
I shiver in the warm shower. The man standing inches away from the shower curtain is breathing heavily. I scrub my skin relentlessly, as if by peeling away the layers of my skin I can erase the devil inside this bathroom.
It’s late.
I woke up an hour ago. And the memory of that one second where I thought things had gone back to the way I wish they were, with Cal and me tangled in the sheets, burns. Holdingmyself together—barely—I manage to clean my body. Every part of me is purified, set forhimto defile. Hot tears run down my cheeks.
If I am going to do this, I’m going to have at least a scrap of dignity.
I set my shoulders back and sniff the sobs down.
“Almost done?” T says.
