I heard the clanking of his belt buckle and I closed my eyes. As if not seeing him would make everything stop, I shut my eyes like a damn coward. My face throbbed, my stomach hurt and any spirit I had left drained from my body.
He was so close now, and I was drowning in pain, fear and sorrow. His whiskey-filled breath swooshed across me and his sweat dripped onto my face as he slammed into my body with such tremendous force I felt like I was being ripped to shreds.
I screamed in agony, my ears ringing with the sounds of his grunts and his buddies' laughter as I yelled in vain for help. As always, my pleas went unanswered as he took everything from me.
He’d stolen my innocence without remorse.
And then, like the unfeeling monster he was, he just yanked his pants up and left, stumbling away as if he hadn’t just destroyed me. But not before telling me he’d kill me if I ever spoke a word of what happened.
I wasn’t sure that mattered at all as I lay there beaten, bruised, and half-naked, my soul shattered..
The devil walked out of the room and more laughter sounded from the front room before the front door banged shut.
It took a couple of minutes of silence for me to truly realize they’d left. He took what he wanted and left me in the aftermath of a hell that would consume me for years to come.
Or most likelyforever.
Get out!my mind screamed, but I struggled to do anything.
Finally, I managed to move. God, I wanted to shower but I had to take the opportunity to get out of there. I dragged myself off the bed, wincing at the agony coursing throughout my body. On autopilot, I grabbed my clothes off the floor and in a daze got dressed. Then I grabbed an old T-shirt and pressed it against my stomach, stopping the trickle of blood that still flowed.
Not able to get myself out the window, I slowly made my way toward the back door, praying the monster and his clan wouldn’t come back into the house before I made it out. As I passed by the kitchen table, I spotted a bottle of whiskey and snatched it before walking out the door into the dead of night.
A short time later, I found myself standing on the bridge,the dark water below calling out to me. I almost did it. I wanted to feel nothing. And whiskey wasn’t helping. It was only giving me the courage my shattered soul needed to let myself go.
I was dead inside anyway.
Nobody would care or notice I was gone.
But then, just seconds away from never feeling again, I heard her voice. I thought it was an angel. Her voice was soft, she was beautiful, and she was calling out to me.
Huntley’s mom was not any angel.
She wasmyangel.
What was that?
The sting of hot tears dripped down my face as a sound drifted to my ears. I was drowning in the pain of my past, trying to fight my way back. I knew that voice; I had to get to it.
“Sweetheart, can you hear me?”
There it was again, filled with as much agony as I was feeling inside.
“River,pleaselook at me.”
At his plea, my eyes began to focus and Huntley’s face swam into view. What I saw, the raw emotion, the tears he was shedding and the sorrow filling his eyes—sorrowIcaused him—had me falling to my knees in front of him.
I placed my hands on his thighs and looked up to meet his gaze. “Please don’t cry for me,” I begged. I couldn’t stand to see him that way.
He started to raise his hand toward my face and then it stopped midair. I knew this would happen. Huntley was afraid to touch me again…Or he didn’t want to. My heart started to break at the realization that one of my biggest fears may have come true and it must have shown in my eyes.
“Baby, I need to touch you.”
As if reading my inner turmoil, Huntley said it like it was a necessity. I raised one hand off his thigh and grabbed his palm, bringing it the remaining distance to my face and placing it on my cheek.
“My warrior,” he whispered.
I shook my head, my loose hair flying around my face in denial. “I’m not. Don’t you understand? I couldn’t fight anymore. I…”
