“You’re ours, the three of us own you. We own your fucking bodies, your fucking minds and your fucking screams. You’re our little moths, flying among the points of our tight little triangle.”
Raw fear grips my throat, strangling me until my voice box knots with terror. I stop, staring at the lifeless moth, framed for display, beautifully broken,the way they believed we were.
“Beautiful, huh?” I know it’s Harlen speaking, but among the hazy cloud of my torture, all I hear is the distortion of them. The mug slips from my hands, what was just comforting liquid spilling to the ground in a puddle at my feet, seeping between my toes.
Blood.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real,then why does it feel so real?
I stumble backward, and my spine connects with the wall behind me, my vision turning black, my limbs becoming weightless as I sink.
Only before my ass meets the floor, I feel the warmth of him, his strong, safe arms wrapping around my waist, stopping me from falling, keeping the weight of what’s left of me above the surface.
“Harlen,” I whimper through a painful cry. “Oh god. It hurts, it hurts so bad.”
Harlen’s hands are through my hair, as he presses my cheek into his chest. His heart is beating so hard against my ear, that’s all I can hear. “Fuck,” he says, his voice low and guttural and pained,vengeful.
I continue to sob, tears soaking his t-shirt. “It. Just. Hurts.”
His hand grips onto the back of my neck as he anchors me to him. “Let me carry the weight, Cherry.”
I hold my knees to my chest when the crisp breeze of the night caresses my bare legs. I’m pulling the sleeves of my hoodie down around my knuckles when goosebumps ebb over my skin before Harlen passes me the lit blunt.
I take a hit, sinking the smoke through my lungs, exhaling sharply with another rolling tear. I can’t stop crying, it’s just constant now, a permanent fixture of who I am.
They ruined me.
“There were three of them.”
I begin, closing my eyes as I allow my voice to circle in the coal-black night. I take another hit, and then extend my arm outward toward where I know Harlen is sitting, never opening my eyes.
“I was at the graveyard, visiting my parents early in the morning after a shift at the bar. Some would have thought I was crazy, but I had done it more times than I could count, so I believed I was safe.”
I keep my eyes closed. It’s easier that way because watching the impact of what I’m about to tell Harlen next will fist my heart in a steel grip and rip it mercilessly from my chest.
“I was kidnapped by three faceless men and held captive for seven days.” I hear shuffling beside me, though my eyes remain closed. “I was raped, repeatedly.” I start to shake, and when Harlen tries to grab my knee, I shrug him off. “Tortured and beaten until there were barely inches of my life left.” Tears stream down my cheeks, and I don’t try to stop the flow thistime. “Sold off repeatedly to sick men who wanted the rape experience but didn’t want the cleanup.” My toes curl into the dark cushion beneath them, my hands clenching my triceps as I hold on to myself, nails digging through my flesh and my teeth cutting into the side of my cheek.
Vomit races up my throat and floods my mouth. I turn my head to the side but am quickly stopped when the second man halts my movement, pushing a palm to my nose.
I start to choke.
Vomit fills my airways as my chest jolts with violent, spluttered coughs.
I clench my eyes harder, tasting the very aroma of the sour burn that almost drowned me. “I almost drowned on my own vomit, my eyes were gouged, I was completely torn apart from the inside with a metal bat, and I was…branded. That’s what the triangle is on my pelvis.”
Harlen exhales heavily beside me, and I can hear him cursing, but I block him out to finish, otherwise I’ll lose all strength I have.
“I was theirs, until I fought back, until I was able to stab one of them in the eye with a shard from a burst light bulb, until I was no longer theirlittle moth, and only the preserved. Then, I was dumped in the lake, destined for death.”
My body is weightless when I’m lifted off the couch and my aching bones wrap around Harlen. I hold on to him, like my life depends on it,and when he falls back to the couch,he holds on to me, like he regrets ever letting go.
I swallow, and through each deep, searing breath, I whisper, “But at that point, I was already a ghost, just one with a beating heart.”
I fall apart in the arms of his warmth.
His biceps dig into me as he continues to try to pull me closer, his lips at the top of my head as he whispers over and overand over and over again, “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Fuck. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I got out–” I swallow tightly, feeling the barbs of guilt before continuing, “And she didn’t.”
