Page 104 of Damaged Prince
It might have been years since the last time I saw him, but I’d recognize the face that haunts my dreams every night.
No. No. This can’t be happening. This isn't real. It’s not him. It can’t be. It can’t fucking be.
Recognition sparks in his eyes. “Elijah,” he says my name like he’s seeing a long lost friend, a smile that makes my stomach turn, lifting onto his ugly face.
In reality, back then, he was a good-looking man to the rest of the world.
When I first met him, he was a retired world-famous ballet dancer in his mid-thirties. Nearly ten years later, he still looked the same.
“No,” I whisper, a sob lodged in my throat as I take a stumbling step backwards. “No.”
“Is everything okay?” he asks with a frown.
Okay? He’s asking if I’m okay. No, I’m not fucking okay. I’m far fucking from it. I’m standing before my fucking rapist, for fuck sakes! There’s no way in hell I'm okay.
I’m unable to speak, to scream, to fucking breathe. I’m frozen in terror, the memories of my past flashing through my mind.
Tears spill down my cheeks, bile rising in my stomach. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real.
“Elijah, you need to relax. You're overreacting. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Liar! He’s a fucking liar. He already hurt me. He fucking destroyed me.
“You have nothing to fear from me, okay? I mean you no harm.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, taking a step away from me and the door. “Can we talk? I just want to clear the air, okay? With us having business across the street from one another, I want to make sure that everything is okay between us. Can we please leave the past behind us and move on?”
Is this man for fucking real right now? He wants me to forget and move on? He and his wife sexually assaulted me. He has to be mentally unstable if he thought for a moment I’d just move on and live my life with him across the street.
No fucking way. I have to get out of here. I can’t fucking breathe, and the longer his eyes are on my body, the more I want to rip at my skin.
“No!” I scream, finding my voice, but it’s the only thing I can get out right now. “No,” I shake my head. “No, no, no, no!” Pushing past him, I take off running back to my studio.
Tears spill down my cheeks as my whole body trembles. My hands shake as I try to get the key into the lock. I need to get inside, I need to get away from him.
“Elijah!” he calls from across the street, and a sob slips free.
Come on, come on, come on!
The key slips in, and I unlock the door, throwing it open before quickly slamming it shut and locking it again. Looking through the window, I find him staring back at me, watching me.
Any friendly act he had is gone, replaced with this cold, evil look in his eyes.
My head snaps down, searching my pockets for my phone. I should call the cops, but what would I tell them? There’s nothing they could do. Because to the world, they’ve done nothing wrong, because I didn’t report them.
So I call the only person I can think of, the only other person apart from Winter who knows my past.
“Eli, baby, what's up?” The sound of Kai’s voice breaks me.
“Kai,” I sob out, my body giving out as I sink to my knees. “Kai.”
“Eli. Baby, what's wrong?” His voice sounds urgent now.
“I need you. Please,” I sob. “Please, help me.”
“Fuck. Where are you?”
“S-studio,” I gasp out in between cries.
“I’m on my way, baby.”
