Page 24 of Claimed
“All you need to think about is getting better. Let me worry about everything else. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it. I don’t like it and I’m strongly objecting, but I got it.”
“Good. Let’s find you some breakfast.”
Back in the bar, I see Laurelyn walking in, clutching tightly to Dani and her purse. I don’t blame her. Looking beyond her, I see the scores of people lining up outside. I don’t know where they came from but a million emotions come at me, hitting me like a freight train. The rape, Laurelyn, Gage planning to kill a man because of me, spending all that money. I’m so overwhelmed, I start to hyperventilate. I can’t deal.
“What’s wrong?” Gage and Laurelyn ask in unison. That’s when I notice she’s standing in front of me.
“You should leave,” I say.
“Do you want me to come back later?”
“No. You should go home.”
The hurt and disappointed expression is instantaneous. It’s for the best. I don’t know why I thought I could handle all this at once. I look down at Dani and confusion is written all over her face.
“I promise I’ll call whenever I can. I just...I can’t deal with everything right now. I need time. I’m sorry. I just can’t.”
I hurry back to Gage’s room, locking the door behind me. Leaning on the door, I slide down to the floor as the tears begin to stream down my face. How am I supposed to get through all this? No one can help me. It doesn’t matter what anyone says or does, it will never be enough.
I can’t get through this.
I won’t.
CHAPTER 7
***Raven***
Seclusion. It’s probably the only word to describe the state I’ve been in since...I don’t even know. I guess ‘reclusion’ would be a better word. I haven’t seen anyone but Gage and Dr. E since that day I told Laurelyn to go home. And seeing Dr. E was merely a necessity because he’s been checking on my injuries. The first time I saw him, he told me I hadn’t eaten in three days and he was putting me on an IV. Gage...even then, he was patient and understanding, calmly begging me to eat. I don’t know how he does it, because I haven’t even been speaking to him in complete sentences. I think the last thing I said to him was a mumbled ‘thanks’ when he sheepishly handed me a plastic bag containing three different brands of pads, tampons, and panty liners. I almost smiled at the thought of him buying them for me. Almost.
I retreated into myself, hiding away from everyone and everything, completely shutting down. At least my body is healing. All that’s left are a few scars and a nagging pain in my shoulder. Dr. E says I have to go through physical therapy and even then, it will be months before it’s back to normal. Both he and Gage have been begging me to talk to a therapist, but I can’t. I can’t talk to anyone.
It’s not like I’ve been sad or depressed...just...numb. There’s no feeling, no awareness or concept of time. I only know it’s morning when Gage drags himself out of bed. I’ve watched him daily and it’s always the same: he brings me breakfast, showers, and then tells me he has to check in with the guys or one of the businesses. He’s back in time for lunch and is with me for the rest of the day – making sure I eat and take my medication. Most of the time, he turns the TV on and I pretend to watch while he works on his laptop or his phone. Sometimes, he works out his frustrations on the punching bag.
Every now and again, one of the guys knocks on the door, they talk in hushed tones on the other side, and then he either comes back to bed or leaves for a few hours. On those occasions, I know he’s off doing bad things for me. He doesn’t tell me where he goes or what he does, but I know. I see it in his eyes when he kisses my forehead before he climbs into bed.
Right now, his punching bag is on the receiving end of a major ass-kicking. He’s been going at it for a while, longer than usual. His hair is wet and sticking to his head and face, sweat trickling down his body, making wet spots on his shorts. I sit up, pulling my knees under my chin, and watch him. Has he lost weight? Am I stressing him out? Or is all the work on the punching bag making him leaner? He looks good—amazing, in fact. And yet, I feel nothing. That magnetic pull he’s always had is missing. He’s still a sex god, but somehow he no longer has an effect on me. There are no butterflies, no thumping heart, no ragged breathing. Nothing. Just an endless void. I’m a dying star, trapped in a black hole of nothingness. And nothing can escape a black hole. He should get away from me or he’s just going to get pulled in by the gravity. Then we’ll both be trapped.
He glances my way and eases up, grabbing the bag with both hands to stop it from swinging. His breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. Our eyes meet, but I drop my gaze. I can’t look into his eyes knowing I’m slowly destroying him.
“You okay?”
I nod.
“Need anything?”
I shake my head.
I feel him approaching but keep my eyes on my toes. He sits on the bed and takes my hand in his. Still nothing.
“Raven...I understand your need to check out. I do. But I can’t stand to see you like this anymore. Tell me, what can I do to make it better?”
“Break...” My voice catches so I clear my throat and raise my eyes to his. “Break up with me.”
“What?” His brows furrow in disbelief.
“Break up with me. Kick me out. Go back to a life where you don’t have to deal with me and my shit. Be...” I feel the tears coming on and raise my eyes to the ceiling, blinking to try and hold them back. “Be happy.”
