Page 177 of Broken by my Bully
Dad’s complete lack of interest when I try to tell him there’s no food in the house.
The memory of Uncle Lenny’s hands.
Much worse.
This is nothing.
But the more I scrub, the more I can feel him.
His crushing weight.
His hot skin.
That sound he made when I grabbed his dick. When hecame. I didn’t expect how much it would turn me on, hearing him give in like that.
Fuck!
I wish I could scream, but then I’d have everyone in the house running in here, seeing me like this.
Naked, damaged, broken.
That’s not going to happen.
What Kai did tonight will never happen again. It’s pathetic, and sad, and feels like a step backward, but from now on, I won’t go anywhere alone. Because that’s when he knows he can play with me as hard and rough as he wants.
I’m no snitch. Never have been, never will be.
That’s something that runs deep in Riversiders’ blood.
There’s a pair of towels near the sink, and one of them is just large enough to cover me from nipples to non-existent thigh gap. Idon’t bother looking at myself in the mirror, because I know I look like shit.
…you’re so fucking beaut?—
Melissa lays her phone on her stomach when I come back into our bedroom. “Where the hell were you?”
“Bathroom.”
“But I was just in there.”
I turn my back on her so I can drag one of the duffel bags onto the bed to look for something to sleep in. One of Bastian’s hoodies would have been nice.
“We must have just missed each…” I trail off.
“What’s wrong?” Melissa’s bed squeaks, and I jolt like I just stuck my fingers in a wall socket.
Do I seriously have PTSD, and my trigger is Melissa’sbed spring?
Fuck, if only Bastian was still a therapist. He’d cream his pants over this.
She shuffles over to me in her bunny slippers, then peers over my shoulder.
“Oh, I know,” she sighs, patting me on the shoulder, then getting back into bed. “Hate opening them too. Sacrilege.”
I poke a finger through one of the plastic wrapped bundles neatly arranged inside the duffel bag. Then I tear it with a kind of calm abandon. The smell of freshly laundered clothes puffs into my face.
That scent could have easily landed itself in second or third place in my overall ‘things I’d love to smell again’ list.
If I didn’t feel so fucking violated.
