I remained silent.
He shoved a third finger inside me, and I winced at the pain, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me say those words. This time he’d know it was rape, even if his sick demented mind was convinced I was a willing participant.
“Say it! Tell me you want it!”
I dug through whatever was left of me and forced a triumphant smile. If I was going out, I was going out with some dignity. “Fuck. You.” I spit out. “This is rape. It was always rape. I. Don’t. Want. This!” I howled, finally saying that horrible word out loud. Even though I was pinned down, I felt liberated.
His enraged eyebrows pulled low in the center. He took himself in his hand and rubbed the head of his cock along the slim line of my sex. As he paused at my opening, I held my breath, waiting for the blow. “Have it your way then.”
Suddenly, the sound of a car door shutting and the beep of an alarm crashed over me like an ice cold bucket of water.
I was saved.
But my relief was short lived and replaced by fear. Oh God, don’t let them see this!
I pulled my arms free and slammed my fists on Damon’s chest. “Someone’s here! Get off me!”
He jumped, pulling the blinds down.
I scrambled upright in time to see Abby fixing her purse on her shoulder and walking up the drive. I kicked him in the chest and leapt off the couch, frantically pulling up my pants and securing my shirt.
Damon stood nonchalantly, closing his zipper with a smug look on his face, and smoothed a hand through his hair.
Footfalls clanked on the stairs, and I pulled the elastic band out of my hair, letting it cascade over my bruised cheek. Then I grabbed my keys just as Abby opened the door.
“Eva?” She paused. “Sorry, I ran out. I . . .” She did a double take, thankfully not taking note of my state, and narrowed her eyes at Damon. “Why are you still here?”
Not sticking around for his answer, I blew past her. Jogging to my car, I squeezed the burn invading my throat.
I slammed myself onto the leather seat and skidded away from the curb. My knuckles were bright white, strangling the wheel as I took the turns at a speed that made my car fishtail. When I pulled onto the highway, lights from passing cars bled together through my tears. I couldn’t make out the lines or one object to the next as I sucked in ragged breaths. I punched the wheel and the dashboard, screaming, and then cried harder.
I wanted to die. Plain and simple. I couldn’t do it anymore.
He’d won.
He’d ruined me.
Everything was so blurry through my tears, I didn’t see it coming. And then my head snapped up at the blaring sound of a horn, and I stared wide-eyed at two bright headlights barreling toward me.
A few cars swerved, narrowly missing me as I yanked the wheel to the right, sending my car spiraling to a stop. I put my head between my hands on the wheel and let sobs wrack through me. I wiped the back of my arm across my nose and took a few deep breaths, then put the car back in gear and drove a few more blocks to The Backdoor.
I stared at the familiar burgundy awning that had become somewhat of a home, wishing I could go back to last night. To the strong Eva who was sure she owned her own life. Who was ready to take on the world and the man who had destroyed her.
I fished around in my bag for the spare key Rick had given me and rolled it around in my fingers. Sniffling, I fixed my face as best I could in the rearview mirror before going inside and locking the door behind me.
I flipped a switch, sending a flickering buzz to the room before the lights came to life. I could have texted Jace to come help me, but I was beyond that. No one could help me anymore. I wanted it all to be over. No more do-overs or second chances. They didn’t exist, and I had been a fool to entertain the notion.
I snatched the bottle of Grey Goose from the back bar and pulled the cork from the top, taking one of the rock glasses and filling it halfway.
Dropping my head back, I squeezed my eyes shut as the liquid fire poured down my throat. Rumbling surrounded the sloshing in my belly, and my head snapped up. The abrupt harshness of its intrusion was too much to hold on to. I lurched over the sink, throwing up what little contents remained in my stomach. Out of breath, I clutched at the basin, breathing in and out furiously, my eyes soaked with tears as I choked.
I dragged my arm across my mouth and looked to the right. Blake’s seat sat bare, mocking me. The bottle of Grey Goose pronounced itself in the hazy setting of my periphery and I made up my mind.
This was the end.
With determination I stalked back over, poured another half a glass, and dumped it into my mouth, holding it there before letting it slide down my throat.
Then I poured another.
And another.