Let me make you happy!”
Her idea of “happy” was to proceed to undo the zipper of my jeans. And, yeah, it probably would make me happy, but what the hell was I going to get out of a girl who was so drugged up, she didn’t care about giving me a blowjob in front of thirty other people?
That was a huge turn-off.
“Look, stop.” I forced Sarah to her feet and zipped up my jeans. “I’m not doing this with you in front of everyone.”
Sarah glanced around, her eyes glazed, and giggled as though she’d only just noticed everyone around us. She leaned in to whisper to me. “Then let’s go somewhere quieter. Maybe your room…”
I jerked away from her, pushing her back. “You need to find someone else to annoy, because there is no way in hell I’m taking you back to my room tonight.”
Ignoring her cry of protest, I turned and began walking past the other guys. My eyes locked with Ryder’s, and his expression was hard as he watched me. I didn’t bother trying to figure out what was running through his mind. I was pretty sure everyone was wondering what the hell was wrong with me tonight. I’d spend a good amount of time trying to figure out the same thing.
Weaving my way through the trees, I finally ended up at the clearing behind our house and trudged up the dirt path, going into the house through the back door. Once I was inside the house—leaning up against the wall in the kitchen—the noise from the creek was faint. At least Dylan wouldn’t be able to hear most of what was going on.
Turning out of kitchen, I walked down the hall and knocked on Dylan’s door.
“Come in.”
When I pushed the door open and walked in, I found my brother sitting on his bed surrounded by books. God, my brother was a saint. That’s what was so great about him; he went into his room and lost himself in his books.
He seemed surprised when I took a seat at his desk chair. “Why aren’t you at the creek?”
I shrugged. “Dunno. Not in the mood.”
“Oh.” Dylan began placing his books into a neat stack. “Um, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Kid.” I leaned forward, wondering what was bugging him.
“Do you think Estella will really come back tomorrow?” His expression was serious as he regarded me, biting his lower lip.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, not really sure what to say. It seemed like Estella would come over tomorrow, but I didn’t want to get Dylan’s hopes up only for him to be disappointed if she didn’t show up. He didn’t need another woman coming into his life and messing it up.
“I don’t know.” I stared at the floorboards, feeling like a total jerk for not having a better answer to his question. Why give him hope only for him to be let down over and over again?
“I think she’ll come,” Dylan stated, picking up his books and walking past me to put them on the desk. “She’s my friend.”
Hearing him say that Estella was his friend made me cringe. Yeah, she was a nice girl, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to let him down. “That’s great, Dil, but that doesn’t mean that she’s gonna see you tomorrow. I don’t want you getting excited for nothing.”
The truth was, I didn’t want to see how devastated he’d be if she didn’t show up. But after what’d happened with Ryder, I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Sometimes I wanted to get away from this life too, but it was too late for me.
“Vin, why don’t you trust anyone?” Dylan asked, returning to the bed and sitting on the edge.
I didn’t know what to say to that. There were so many things wrong with me that I couldn’t even begin to explain them to a ten-year-old kid. So instead of answering his question, I stood up and headed to the door.
“Get some sleep, kid. It’s late.”
Dylan got under the covers, his eyes searching mine. “You can trust Estella. She’s not like Ruby. She cares about me.”
There was nothing to say to that. If my kid brother could trust women even after Ruby continued to fail him, then why couldn’t I?
Letting out a breath, I gave him a weak smile. “Night, Kid.”
Dylan knew not to push the topic further—he’d get nothing else out of me.
“Night, Vin.”
Chapter Fifteen
Estella
~ Two Years Ago ~
When I got home, no one was there except him.
The look in his eyes disgusted me—it made me sick to my stomach the way he stalked my movements with his eyes.
My blood ran cold and my heart accelerated, like it was trying to tell me to run away. But I didn’t run—I stayed exactly where I was because I didn’t want to make him angry. If he got angry, he could do the same thing to Savannah. I didn’t want him to ruin Savannah’s life the way he had ruined mine, so I let him do this to me.
When I didn’t move towards him, he stood up from his seat on the couch and approached me; his clothes were wrinkled, his hair was untidy, and when he spoke, his breath reeked of alcohol.
“I’ve missed you.” He pulled me close, burying his head in my neck. “I’ve had a bad day, Estella, and I need you.”
Here I stood, Estella Markson, and I let him say these things to me. Here I stood, Estella Markson, and I let him run his hands over my body. Here I stood; frozen, broken, dead inside. I stood here, letting him ruin me once again.
He lifted his head and stroked my cheek with a finger. “Make me happy, Estella, the way your mom used to.”
My stomach dropped and I had an urge to throw up. “Please don’t make me do this.” My voice was soft, coaxing. I didn’t want to make him mad.
His eyes sparked and he straightened up, grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging it so hard that tears stung my eyes from the burning of my scalp. “You know I don’t like it when you make things difficult for me. Be a good girl and do what I say, or you know what’s going to happen.”
“I’m s-sorry,” I whispered, lowering my gaze.
I knew his threat well. If I didn’t do as he said, he would start using Savannah to keep him company. There was no way I was getting my baby sister involved in this. I had to keep her safe.
As he released my hair, a smile that sickened me formed on his lips. He grasped my arm and slowly lifted up the left sleeve of my coat and stroked the fabric of my sweater underneath. It made me sick that he knew my secret; that he knew I was disfigured beneath that sweater.
“You are such a good girl,” he said as his eyes drank me in greedily, “and I’m going to show you how I treat good girls.”
And, because I was frozen, and broken, and dead inside, I let him lead me to my room.
He hadn’t done this to me in a few months, but the memory of how to behave was ingrained into my skull. Once he left my room, I took a shower to wash his scent off me. I loved the way the water felt against my skin, as though I was cleansing myself of what he’d done to me. Sometimes I stayed in the shower longer than I needed to, just thinking about how my life had turned out.
I knew what he was doing to me wasn’t my fault, but I was powerless to stop it. I was trying so hard to be strong and to hold my family together, but when it came down to it, I was a weak person. I was weak physically and I was weak mentally. I couldn’t stop this from happening to me—it was my fault.
Once I’d showered and changed into clean clothes, I went out to find that Savannah was home. Ignoring
