"You don't look so beautiful now, do you, top model? This is all your fault, goddamn it! All your fucking fault. If you had just signed those papers when I told you to, I wouldn't have to beat the shit out of you now, would I?"
"Fuck. You. Tate Turner. I will...never...never sign over my share of the Sinclair Winery to you. NEVER!" Losing consciousness, I could barely get the words out. The blood continued to drip down my face, and the pain in my abdomen became more excruciating by the minute.
I looked into his eyes. The anger I saw there caused a chill to run up and down my spine. In the past, I had tried, without much success, to avoid him so many times. I knew he was trouble and every time he tried to contact me, I brushed him off. I refused his so-called 'dinner dates'. I returned all the flowers and gifts he'd left for me at my apartment and at all my photo-shoots. He had been stalking me for months. I may be blonde, but I was not stupid. If he thought I was some blonde bimbo model who would sign anything he waved at me, he was wrong.
I knew what he wanted, what he was after: the Sinclair Winery. He'd embezzled most of my father’s money, and now he wanted my share of the winery. He was my father’s worst enemy. How the hell had he gotten past security and into my dressing room?
This is it. He's going to kill me.
He dragged me off the floor. The tears rolled down my cheeks from the pain. I could distinctly smell the alcohol on his breath as he put his face up to mine. He stuck out his tongue and licked my face—blood, tears and all; it turned my stomach. I tried to turn away, but he grabbed my jaw and turned my face back to him, causing me to yell out in anguish.
“You're mine now. I'm going to lick you, suck you, and fuck you. You need to be taught a lesson, bitch."
Shit. He's gone absolutely crazy!
"Get...Away...From...Me...You...Sick...Fuck. Don't touch me." With every word I spoke, the pain was worse. Attempting to push him away from me, I tried to find the strength to talk, but I couldn’t. I was dying; I was sure of it.
He pinched my breasts and twisted my nipples through the robe I had changed into after the ceremony. He glided his hands down to my underwear, slipping his thick fingers inside and roughly penetrating me. I could feel his sharp nails scratching the walls of my cervix as he continued to thrust his fingers into me.
"You’re dry. What a shame. The top model isn't wet. Shame. Shame. Shame. I'll get you wet, sweetheart."
His words made my skin crawl. My instant reaction was to spit at him in disgust. Bloodstained saliva dripped down his cheek, and I flinched.
Tate Turner was now totally enraged. Oh, shit. His face transformed into something more evil and sinister. I flopped back down onto the floor. He was now ruthless and unstoppable. He lunged for me and grabbed me by my hair, now sticky with blood.
The blow to my head was so hard and quick this time; I never saw it coming, but I sure felt it. I was becoming weaker by the second. My eyes started to roll around in my head. I was going to die.
I ached. Everywhere.
I was fading.
Fading away to nothingness.
Blackness.
Silence.
Peace at last.
******
My eyes fluttered open. Then they closed again.
I thought I could hear people talking and wondered if was Mia talking to someone. My head felt heavy, so I couldn't quite make out what they were saying very well.
"Look, Ms. Brunetti. When she was brought in last night, the police asked her who did this to her, but she insists she cannot remember her attacker. Your sister won’t or can't tell us what happened. She's suffered severe head trauma. All we know is she was attacked and assaulted by a stranger. We do know she wasn't raped. There is absolutely nothing the police can do if your sister can't remember who did it. I'm sorry, Ms. Brunetti." The sound of her shoes on the tiled floor and a door opening and closing let me know she had left the room.
Sister? Why is Mia telling them I'm her sister?
"She can’t remember? Damn it, Jada, wake the fuck up!"
Desperately, I tried to open my eyes again. It was a struggle to keep them open. As I looked at my surroundings, I realised I was in the hospital with Mia holding my hand.
"Hey, kiddo. Finally, you are fully awake!"
"I need your help, Mia," I rasped. My throat felt like it had been scraped with a knife. Maybe it had; I couldn't remember a thing after I passed out. All I could recall was a sense of pure relief; relief that he was gone. I was alive. God knows how, but I survived.
"Look, honey, try not to talk, okay? You look like hell, Jada."
"Thanks," I managed to whisper in a croaky voice.
"I'll go let them know you're awake."
Mia smiled at me before turning to walk out the hospital door to look for a nurse or doctor. She stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “It's all going to be okay now, Jada. We will find out who did this, and he will be charged. Once you have your surgery tomorrow, I’ll get you discharged as soon as possible."