Page 99 of When The Mountains Held Us

It’s a trick of the mind, my subconscious trying to make sense of what I’m hearing by conjuring up false recognition in the cruelest way possible.

And yet, when the shadows in the hallway shift, unadulterated terror grips me as I make out the shape of a man. My blood turns to ice as the shape moves closer, still hidden in the shadows, a condescending laugh following his slow movements. I would know that sound anywhere. After all, it still haunts my darkest nightmares even on the best of days.

As if I’ve been doused with a bucket of cold water, the memories come flooding back to me in snippets. The bar. The harsh stinging smell of the whiskey as I poured it for him.

I’ll see you around.

The parking lot.

The jingle of my keys in a monster’s hand.

The gun pointed at my head.

Travis steps into the light, and it takes everything in me not to physically recoil at the sight of him. To put it plainly, he looks like shit, a far cry from the charismatic, charming man I once knew. Months of the drink, and whatever other substances he’s been sullying his body with, have taken its toll. His skin is leeched of color, and I can see the sheen of clammy sweat clinging to his forehead from here. He’s dressed in a loose pair of red basketball shorts that hang down to his knees and a ratty white tank top. The neckline is stretched out from too many years of wear, and there’s a beer stain down the front of it.

My eyes zero in on the stain. It’s old, and I still remember the night I accidentally tripped over his Playstation cord and spilled the drink I was bringing him down the front of it. God, he was so angry. I can still feel the sting of his hand when he smacked me, my head jerking back from the force of it. It had taken an extra fifteen minutes of carefully applied makeup to cover up the bruise that lasted well over a week, and even after I did, you could still see it peeking through.

He’s lost some weight since the last time I saw him before I ran, but it’s clear that he’s still big enough to overpower me if I try anything stupid. He moves closer until he’s looming over me, before crouching down and balancing his elbows on his knees. He cracks his tattooed knuckles as his sunken eyes roam over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.

“I’m waiting,” he prompts. When I look at him in confusion his eyes flash with something dangerous. “For my apology. You have a lot to answer for, Oakley.”

My anger threatens to boil over as venom coats my tongue. If looks could kill, I’m certain he’d be dead a thousand times over from the way I’m glaring at him, but no matter how enraged I am right now, I have to play this smart. He has the upper hand right now. I don’t know where I am, or how long I’ve been knocked out on this dirty floor, and I’m still weak. I can still feel the effects of the hit to my temple, in the way my limbs feel heavier than usual and from the continuous pounding in my skull.

“Aw,” he tuts, shaking his head in disappointment. “Feeling shy, are we? That’s okay. I’m sure once we start, you’ll find it in you.”

I don’t let the fear of what he’s planning to do to me dull my rage. I spent long enough being pushed around by him, and I’m tired of running. This is my town. I’ve made a life for myself here in North Creek, and I’ll be damned if I let someone as pathetic as him take that away from me. I’ve found a decent job, friends I can spend hours laughing with, and freedom in the peaceful calm of the mountains I now call my home.

And love. You’ve found love.

My heart aches at the thought of Levi, and the comfort and safety I feel in his arms. But even more so, I ache at the realization that my inner voice is right. I’ve found love.

I love Levi.

I love the quiet way he demands I fight for myself, all while providing a safe haven to do it in. I love his loyalty to his friends and his community, and the way he challenges me every day to reclaim a part of myself I thought had been lost forever. Does he know I’m missing? Does he know something’s wrong?

“Alright. I guess we can do this the hard way.”

I’m snapped out of my thoughts and back into my reality at the flash of metal in Travis’s hands. My eyes narrow on the sight of the handcuffs. I recoil backwards as he moves closer.

“Don’t fight me. You know how much harder it’ll be if you do.” He grabs my wrist with one tattooed hand.

“Let go of me!” I spit at him, trying and failing to yank my wrist free from his grasp. In an instant, I’m on the ground on my stomach, my face shoved down against the sticky hardwood as he straddles my thighs and wrenches one arm and then the other behind my back. I scream my protest, wriggling and bucking to try and get him off of me, but it’s no use. My body feels so weak, and he’s heavy on top of me.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Keep fighting me. You know how much I love it.”

He laughs cruelly as I struggle beneath him, his weight settling even further down on me. I swallow down a wave of nausea at the press of his hardness against my backside, the feeling only stoking my rage further.

“Get the fuck off of me!” I scream as he clicks the handcuffs around my wrists. Tears prick at my eyes, but it’s not helplessness I’m feeling. It’s white-hot ferocity that courses through my veins alongside the adrenaline. I swear I could spit fucking fire right now if I tried.

He grinds his erection into me again, and I kick my legs up behind me, trying and failing to find purchase.

“I was going to leave your legs untied, but you’re being so bad right now. You know the rules.” He lifts his weight off me, and I suck in a ragged breath while I frantically try to think of a way out of this. “Don’t go anywhere, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

His form disappears down the hallway before the rusted squeak of a door on old hinges floats its way to me, the sound managing to be both threatening and foreboding all at once. The bedrooms must be down that way. Thank God he doesn’t have me handcuffed to one of the beds, the sick fuck. Though, I know from experience he doesn’t need a bed to break me.

I rock my body to the side until I can roll my back up against the couch. Breathing heavy, my fingers are already losing feeling from how tight he has the metal handcuffs, but I manage to get my legs under me. It’s awkward at this angle to stand, especially without the use of my hands, but my legs are strong from all the hours spent hiking, and I use that newfound strength to lift myself to my feet. But I’m not fast enough. Travis reenters the living room and pauses when he sees me.

“Don’t you dare,” he threatens, but the words aren’t even fully out before I’m running awkwardly towards the front door. I let out a yelp of pain as I’m jerked backwards by my hair, my scalp screaming at the abuse, before I lose my balance and topple to the ground again. I land hard on my wrists and cry out in pain as something in my wrist snaps. Fire licks up my nerve endings, and I let out a strangled sob at the excruciating throb.