Survive.
The sound of an engine cuts through the darkness. I flatten myself in a ditch, my paranoia spiking. Any of those headlights could be him. My pulse hammers in my ears as I force my breathing to slow.
The lights pass, and I exhale. I push myself up, every limb losing its strength after that brief stop. The road stretches ahead, and I don’t think—I just move. The forest behind me fades into shadow as I reach the asphalt. I don’t stop, I just stick to the edge of the road, prepared to hide myself if a car comes past. Keep moving. Keep running. Keep breathing, Katherine.
Finally, the faint outline of civilization appears on the horizon, and I stumble to my knees. My body wants to collapse entirely. But I lift myself up and keep stepping forward.
I pause only to look behind me.
I know he’s alive, and I know he’ll hunt me down.
But tonight, I don’t care.
I’ve survived, and that has to be enough for now.
Forty-Three
Kat
Iris – The Goo Goo Dolls
My hands rest in my lap. They’re still.Toostill. Nausea roils in my stomach, and I feel dizzy. I swore to myself when I left that I would never tell the story, I would never put someone in danger by having them know too much. But here I am, my entire dirty soul laid bare before this man. This man that I can’t even look at.
The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. It’s worse than the confession itself. I can feel Elias looking at me, the weight of his gaze pressing into my skin making me shrivel even more. I brace myself for the impact I’m sure is coming. The moment he realizes what I am. The moment he realizes I’m too broken for him. I wouldn’t blame him.
“How long?” he asks, and I finally look at him.
The expression on his face makes my breath hitch. I expected an expression of pity, disgust, or even horror. But I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect fury. He sits opposite me. Unmoving, but his fists are clenched in his lap so hard his knuckles turn pale. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. It’s a simple question, but the answer is lodged in my throat.
“How long did he hurt you for?” he asks, firmer now.
“Three years,” I whisper. My eyes drop to the floor , tracing the same knots in the wood over and over again. “It wasn’t always like that, though. We met at a bar.” A breathy, humorless laugh leaves me. “I was a little different back then. I was young and easier to impress, and he had a bike,” I shrug weakly. “That’s what caught my attention first.”
The scene plays out in front of me like I’m there again. The dim lights, the same four rock songs on repeat all night. But what sticks the most is the way he leaned against the bar and looked at me like we were the only two people in the room. And how quickly I fell for it.
“He was charming, he always made me feel special. He took me on dates, brought me flowers, remembered things I said.” My fingers curl into the comforter. “He did everything right. Everything you’re supposed to do when you love someone.”
I feel Elias stiffen in front of me, but I don’t look up. If I do, I might stop.
“It started small.” My voice drops. “He liked me in dresses. Said I looked prettier with my hair down. He didn’t like it when I went out without telling him first.” I swallow, despite the dryness in my mouth. “I didn’t question it, I just thought that’s what relationships are, right? Compromise.” My throat tightens as I struggle through the words, but I push through despite the hoarseness in my voice. “So I changed. Bit by bit, little by little. I stopped wearing what I liked. I stopped going places he didn’t approve of, and started apologizing for things I didn’t understand.” A hollow laugh slips out. “But it was never enough.”
Elias gently takes my hands in his, offering me an anchor to the present while I lose myself in the worst years of my fucking life.
“It got worse. Gradually at first, until he realized I’d lost all my fight, and then it happened all at once. For two years, he broke me down until there was nothing left that wasn’t touched by him.” My voice is quieter now. “He’d hit me, rape me, drug me when I wouldn’t listen and take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.” I force the next words out. “He didn’t want a girlfriend. He wanted something he could possess.”
I inhale until my lungs burn, my hands shake in Elias’s grip, but he holds them firm.
“One night he told me he wanted me to meet his club. Properly.” I take a deep breath, but the air doesn’t quite fill my lungs. “I thought it was a good thing. I thought he wanted to show me off to his friends.” A faint bitter edge creeps into my voice. “They weren’t what I expected. There was more going on than just bikes but I trusted him. So I stayed.” I pause for a moment. “And then I couldn’t leave.”
“You don’t have to tell me, Kat,” Elias whispers, his thumb tracing circles over the back of my hand.
“Please, Elias,” I pull one hand out of his grip and hold it up, gesturing for him to stop. “That’s when I realized what the Iron Angels really were.” I continue. “They were a club, yes. But they were so much more. There were drugs, trafficking, and deals happening right in front of me like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. And by then I wasn’t just around it.” I curl my fingers tighter around his. “I was part of it.” I pause, taking a deep inhale. “I had no one, Elias.” My voice softens and cracks at the edges. “My parents were gone. My grandmother…” Ihesitate, heaviness sitting on my chest with the words that need to be said. “She died a month before I met him.”
I look up at him now, and pain slashes through his features. But he doesn’t say anything, he just lets me continue.
“He knew that. I see it now. He saw someone alone and grieving and easy. But I didn’t know then, I just thought he cared.” My gaze drops again, fixing on a loose thread on the comforter. I start twisting it around my free hand over and over. “I’m just thankful…” My voice falters before steadying again. “I got Freddie out before it got worse. Before—”
The room goes completely still, like the sands of time themselves have stopped. He doesn’t say anything—I can’t even hear a breath. I’m not brave enough to look at him. I twist my fingers together. The nausea threatens to surface. The silence stretches again, my ears ringing. One second. Two. Three. My chest tightens with every heartbeat before it overwhelms me. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Maybe—
