“What?” he splutters.
“Hold me?”
He stares at me like he’s imagining I’ve suggested this. And I get it. We’ve never taken a bath together. He’s never seen me fully naked let alone held me like that. Although we have made out, and he has touched me, it never went very far because I was terrified of intimacy.
But I’m working through all that now, and in this moment, I want him in here with me. There isn’t anything sexual in my need, but it’s still a big deal for me. Because I have no fear. There is only determination. I know what I want and need, and I need this. My body needs this. And I’m letting those base instincts guide me.
This whole time, I’m staring at him, beseeching him with my eyes.
He pulls his T-shirt up over his head, revealing his ripped upper torso. “If you change your mind, at any time, you only need to say it.”
“I trust you.” And I really do. Keanu would never hurt me.
I look away as he lowers his jeans, and I scoot forward in the tub, trailing my fingers through the warm water, feeling its soothing power washing over me. The water sloshes as he steps in behind me, and I’m waiting for the panic or the terror to take control of me, but it doesn’t arrive. When he’s situated, I lean back against his warm, bare chest, resting my head on his collarbone. His hands land gently on my waist, and his touch ignites flames and fans the fire at the same time. Heating and cooling me both at once.
We don’t talk for ages. We don’t do anything except lie against one another, skin to skin, hugging and absorbing all the potent emotions swirling between us.
“The girl in the picture, the one holding onto my arm, was my friend Juanita,” I say after a while. “You know I’ve wondered what happened to her.”
“I remember.”
“Something happened when I looked at that photo,” I explain. “A flashback of sorts.”
His entire body stiffens behind me. “What did you see?”
“I’ve always thought I didn’t know what happened after that first night, when we were separated and taken away in different cars, but that isn’t true.” I know I have blanked stuff from my mind, because Denise and I have discussed this, and as I’ve begun talking about my experiences in more detail, other things have returned to me.
But I’ve never recalled anything about Juanita.
Until now.
“That picture was taken a few days after we were abducted,” I say. “Freddie had drugged me. The last thing I remember was him shoving me in a black van, and when I woke up, I was in a seedy motel where he—”
Knots twist in my gut as I remember those early days. I remember waking up confused and dazed in a strange room. I remember my head spinning. How dry my mouth was. How I ached everywhere. I’ll never forget the abject terror and the constant pain. I don’t want to relive it, but I push through.
“He stripped me and sexually assaulted me,” I whisper, and Keanu’s arms move fully around my waist, as he hauls me closer.
“You don’t have to tell me.” I hate how his voice breaks.
“I want to,” I truthfully admit. Keanu knows the basics, but I’ve never given him many details. “I’ve spent a lot of time going over stuff with Denise, and although it’s painful, it helps me to process it.” I angle my head, looking up at him, not surprised to see tears in his eyes. “I don’t want to keep things from you, K. Unless it’s too upsetting for you.” I hate hurting him, and if the truth is too much, then I won’t tell him.
“I’ve often wondered if it was better I didn’t know too much or if it was worse because my mind has conjured up pictures of what they did to you anyway.”
“I doubt anything you imagined is as bad as the reality.”
“I want to kill them all,” he says over a sob. “I want to fucking kill every bastard who put his hands on you without permission. Every motherfucker who hurt you.”
“I want them to rot in jail, being raped and beaten by other inmates so they get a taste of their own medicine,” I calmly say. “But more than that, I want justice for me and for Juanita and all those other boys and girls they tortured. I want to stop them from taking anyone else.”
It’s one of my biggest sources of guilt and regret. That it’s taken me this long to get myself together. I should have helped the authorities more when I was first rescued. I could have done much more to help catch these fiends. It’s why I won’t hesitate now. If Keven’s boss is willing to help, I will tell them anything I know. No matter how hard that will be.
“Juanita was taken by Freddie’s right-hand man, Hudson. An evil piece of shit. She was assaulted too, but they didn’t rape us because they needed us pure so they could auction our virginity for the highest price.” Although I didn’t know that at the time. “On the second night, we left the motel, and Freddie took me to an abandoned warehouse where I was loaded on that truck with a bunch of other girls. That’s when I was reunited with Juanita and I found out what had happened to her.”
I stop to draw a long breath, and Keanu kisses my temple. I lift my hands, linking them through his around my waist. “I can’t remember everything. Just that it was hot as hell. We were hungry and thirsty and so fucking scared. Some of the girls were talking. Whispering about where we were going.”
That’s where I first heard mention of the private island that would become my own personal hell.
Tears prick my eyes as the memories float through my damaged brain. “Eventually the truck stopped, and we were told to get out. I don’t know where it was, only that it was stifling. Hot and humid. There were several men there,” I say, bile flooding my throat. “And we were separated into different groups.” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. “Juanita went crazy when they pulled us apart. She kicked and screamed and cussed when some guy with a bulging belly grabbed hold of her, trying to take her toward a red van.”
