“You’re fucking smiling, you bitch? You’re trying to piss me the fuck off?” he shouts, pulling me out of my daze and back into the present.
No … I didn’t mean it. I just thought of my mother for a moment and …
Another blow to my gut sends me into a whirlwind of pain that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced. I wince and my lips part, I start screaming, but my voice doesn’t come out.
The pain is unbearable, causing my bones to ache and my legs to shake uncontrollably.
It suddenly feels like thousands of knives are stabbing me, making me wish I could rip my stomach off me.
I see Logan’s face, then blackness, then his face again. Except this time, his eyes are wide as he stares at my legs.
His lips are moving, but I can’t hear a thing. I see blackness again and then, I hear him. And his words make my heart stop.
“You’re bleeding. Shit, you’re bleeding. Are you pregnant? What the actual fuck? Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Connor
It’s 11:30 pm and I’m still stuck staring at the window where I saw her the first time. My anxiety keeps growing as seconds tick by. The whiskey glass in my hand isn’t enough to get my mind off her. My right hand balls into a fist when I rise from my seat.
I need some fresh air before I officially lose my mind.
Heading out, I lock the door behind me and stand still for a moment, listening to the sound of crickets as they sing their lullabies.
I cross the street and stand in front of Logan’s house. I’m drunk, but focused on her. I’m about to knock on their door when I hear a crunching sound coming from the side of their house.
I frown and head toward the sound.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
If it’s a burglar or a stranger who’s not supposed to be here, then they’ll probably pay for my anger toward whatever’s happening to Katya inside this house.
I hurry toward the sound, ready to attack when I see dark, long hair in the shadows and my heart skips a beat. I approach the creature, only to realise that it’s Katya, sitting on the floor with blood running down her legs.
There’s so much blood it makes it hard to focus on her when all I’m staring at is the crimson color seeping down her legs.
“Katya?” I ask. My voice is breathy and almost soundless. She looks up at me, and her eyes—so dark and haunting—cause my body to start trembling.
She’s crying, and the bruises on her face are new. They weren’t there last time.
I crouch in front of her and gently, twirl a strand of hair in my fingers before carefully reinserting it into place.
Another tear rolls down her temple, and I find myself unable to hold back anymore. I carry her in my arms, and without looking back, I cross the street back to my house, where once inside I place her on my couch and examine her body.
“Fucking asshole did this to you.” My voice is loud and bitter with fury.
She closes her eyes and passes out. Without wasting any more time, I fish my phone out of my pocket and dial James. He’s the only doctor who I know could come here to check up on her.
“James. Come to my house.”
“Um … now?” His voice is raspy, and I know it’s because I must have just woken him up.
“Yes, now. And come through the back door. Park in the back as well.”
I hang up before he gets to say anything else. I don’t want anybody to see him in my place, especially not Logan. Wherever he is, he shouldn’t know that she’s with me.
I sit beside her as she sleeps, and I try to examine her wounds. I part her legs slightly, and follow the blood to its origin.
I know it’s coming from her vagina. And I know that it could mean one of two things: he inserted a rough object inside of her that ripped her insides, or she was pregnant and just had a miscarriage.
I wince at the thought and bolt up as I hear knocking from the back door. I hurry toward it and open the door wide, allowing James to come in.
“What the fuck is happening, Connor?”
“Come with me,” I tell him and guide him toward the living room.
The moment his gaze lands on her, his pupils grow two sizes bigger. He dashes toward her and begins his examination. My eyes remain pinned on him while my heart hammers in my chest.
Ten minutes go by with James’s unbearable silence stabbing and puncturing my body.
“What happened to her?” I finally ask as he stands up and sighs heavily.
“She took a beating, and had a miscarriage.”
The words “beating” and “miscarriage” reverberate off the walls, making me wanna storm out of my house and choke Logan to death.
I don’t realize how hard I’m fisting my hands until my fingernails started digging into my flesh, leaving marks with blood in them.
I force myself to stay calm.
“Who did this to her? A report needs to be made,” James says, shaking his head as he stares at her.
“No report. No cops. I want this to be a secret until I figure out what to do.”
He looks at me then raises a brow.
“Please tell me you’re not the one who did this to her.”
I give him a look, and it’s enough to have him look the other way.
“She needs to go to a hospital to make sure everything is okay. She bled heavily and I gotta make sure there’s no infection or anything. She needs treatment, Connor.”
“Then go get whatever you need and come back. Katya isn’t going anywhere.”
“I can’t just—”
I grab his collar, and pull him closer until his face is only inches away from mine. Frustration and rage bubble up in me, no doubt layering my face as he struggles to free himself from my hold.
“Remember those ten fucking years of jail I saved you from?” I hiss, and he nods. “Time for payback.”
I release him and without hesitation, he nods and says, “Okay fine. I’ll go to the clinic and bring everything I need. I’ll be back in an hour.”
He dashes toward the back door and disappears after closing the door behind him. My gaze flits to the woman sleeping on my sofa, and my heart aches and every sinew in my body vibrates with rage and fury.
Pregnant. She was fucking pregnant and he beat her up and killed the baby in her stomach. His fucking baby.
I huff loudly and run my fingers through my hair. I could storm into his house and murder him right now, but I need the full story from her. There has to be a reason why she never ran away from him.
What the fuck does he have on her? I pace the floor, unable to calm the storm that’s raging inside of me. I know enough about domestic violence victims to understand that a woman will only stay with her abusive partner if she’s scared of him. But what Katya doesn’t know is that I will free her. Now that she’s in my house, she won’t be going anywhere.
An hour goes by before I hear the back door open. James walks inside the living room with a bunch of equipment in his hands.
“Connor, do me a favor please and set her up in one of your guest rooms,” he says.
I instantly pick her up smoothly, making sure not to hurt her, and take the stairs with her tiny frame in my arms. Once I place her on the bed of one of my guest rooms, I allow James to take over and walk away from the scene.
I need to think. I can’t seem to breathe properly ever since I found her in that pitiful state.
Heading over to my kitchen, I pour myself a drink. Ever since I met her, I’ve been drinking on a daily basis, which is a bad habit. I make a mental note to work on drinking less.
My head is pounding and ideas keep swimming around in my mind. A knock on my main door startles me, dragging me away from my thoughts.
I make my way over to the main door and freeze when I see Logan. Blood starts roaring in my ears and I ball my fists. Ready to punch. Ready to draw blood and kill.
“Mr. Pierce, I’m so sorry to bother you, but Katya is missing. Did you happen to see her?�
�� he asks in a soft voice, one that shouldn’t belong to a monster like him.
“Missing? How come? It’s almost two in the morning,” I manage past my stiff jaw. Although I want nothing more than to end this bastard, I know better. My priority right now is protecting Katya, and I won’t let my rage ruin my plan.
“Yes. Well, I don’t think I have mentioned it in the past, but she’s also not all there really. She’s mentally ill and she’s not supposed to leave the house without my consent.”
Bastard.
Lying asshole.
I swallow the needles in my throat.
“Sorry, I didn’t see her. I’ll let you know if I ever do.”
I close my door without saying goodbye and take the stairs two at a time to check up on Katya. The moment I get to her door, James comes out.
“How is she?” I ask.
“She’s gonna be sleeping for a while. Just let her rest, she’ll be fine.”
“Any medications I need to get for her?”
He nods and hands me the prescription.
“Here, get her whatever’s on the prescription, and take care of her.”
He starts walking away, but I grip his forearm and he looks at me.
“Whatever happened and whatever you saw tonight must stay between us. Do you understand?”
He nods his agreement, and I release him.
“Thank you, James.”
“You’re welcome.”
He walks away, and I remain standing, waiting to hear the back door click as he closes it behind him. Once I hear it, I walk inside her room to check up on her.
I approach the bed and stare at the soft rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps so peacefully. Despite the bruises that paint her face and body, she still looks like an angel. So beautiful and innocent. I force myself not to touch her smooth, bruised skin in fear of waking her up.
I blow out a sigh and take a seat at the sofa across from her bed. I unbutton my dress shirt and close my eyes for a brief moment.
It doesn’t take long for me to fall into a deep slumber.
Katya
My lips are dry, and my body hurts so much, and every bone feels like it has been broken into millions of pieces. I open my eyes slowly, and the moment they’re open, a random throbbing headache takes a hold of me, causing me to wince and rub at my temples.
Once it eases a bit, I study my surroundings.
Where am I?
A frisson of panic in my lower belly makes my heart beat like an African drum. I force my body to rise from the bed, despite the pain that feels like stabbing into my stomach. I wrap my arms around my gut and close my eyes for a moment.
I focus on my breathing, as it’s the only thing that always helps ease the pain a bit. I then walk slowly and open the door. The hallway is slightly dark, and judging from the outside, I know it’s still dawn.
Did Logan finally take us to an island?
A shiver of fear runs down my spine, and tears burn the back of my throat. Last night’s events flood back and my legs start quivering.
Logan. The baby. Connor.
Once Logan realized he had killed our baby, he stormed away, running up the stairs, and I could hear his loud footsteps as he paced the floor, cursing while speaking to somebody on the phone. I forced my legs up, and found myself heading over to the back door. I wasn’t planning on running away, but I needed to breathe. The pain in my stomach was so strong and although I could barely force my body to do anything, I struggled to stay still, and that’s when I fell on the ground and Connor found me.
I fall to the ground with a heavy thud, feeling overwhelmed and emotional all over again. I knew I was pregnant. I didn’t need a test to justify the swelling of my breasts, the common dizziness that would randomly engulf me, and especially lately as I’ve been spewing my guts into the toilet bowl every single hour.
But I never thought I was going to lose the baby the way I did. I was on birth control. I respected it and made sure to take it every single day at the same time in fear of having his child. Bringing another victim to this world to be under Logan’s mercy was never part of my plan.
But every time he beat me to oblivion, then fucked me while I passed out, I always missed the pill and had to take it the next day instead. Sometimes, I wouldn’t take it at all.
And that’s what caused the pregnancy.
A tear rolls down my cheek. Followed by another and another until the flow of tears is relentless.
I want to scream. I want to release all the anger and rage that’s boiling inside of me. I’ve never considered my silence a weakness like Logan thinks. It was always my weapon. He didn’t deserve to hear my voice. He didn’t need to know that every single time he put his hands on me, I loathed him with passion that made me wanna explode with fury.
My best and sweetest dreams consist of me stabbing him a thousand times in the heart, and burying him underneath the ground so deep even his spirit wouldn’t rest in peace.
When I open my eyes again, I freeze when I see a pair of black, polished shoes in front of me. I lift my chin up, and every hair on my body stands up when I see him.
“Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Connor crouches so he’s at my eye level.
I stare at him, confused.
What are you doing here?
Where am I?
His eyebrows furrow, and his eyes narrow at me. I swallow thickly and inhale sharply.
“You’re confused. Logan isn’t here, you’re safe. You’re with me in my house,” he explains, but his words don’t help calm my anxiety. If anything, it increases, making it even harder to breathe.
You just can’t save me!
Silence prevails as we stare into each other’s souls. The atmosphere is thick with my unspoken words and the anger that’s fuming underneath his skin. I feel it because it radiates from his body, strong and powerful.
“I need you to tell me what happened. You can write it down. I also need to know what he has on you. Why couldn’t you escape?” he says firmly, and reaches for his left pocket and pulls a small notebook and a pen.
He offers them to me and with shaky hands, I take them. He takes a seat on the floor beside me and crosses his arms over his chest. His hazel eyes are darker than they usually are, and they’re pinned on me.
I drift my gaze to the notebook clenched between my shaky hands. It feels like the weight of the whole world is on my shoulders. I’m weak. I’m broken. I’m devastated because I need to go back to Logan.
I can’t …
“You need to trust me, Katya.”
I flinch at his words. I’ve learned not to trust anybody. I’ve been alone for so many years in my twisted world with Logan that I don’t think I’ll ever be normal again.
I place the notebook and the pen on the floor and keep my gaze glued to them. Connor’s fingers reach my chin and he lifts it up so our eyes meet.
“I won’t force you. But one day, you’ll trust me.”
His gentle words are haunting. They are the words I wish I’d heard back in the days before everything went down between Logan and me. My body shivers at his touch, sending goosebumps decorating my skin.
He rises from the floor and extends his hand out to me. Placing my shaky palm in his warm hand, he helps me up, and I quickly withdraw my hand from his once I’m standing.
“Are you hungry?”
Kind of. I’m actually starving …
I look up at him, and he smiles.
“Me too. Let’s go eat, shall we?”
He leads the way, and I follow him downstairs to the kitchen. His house is beautiful and bigger than Logan’s, but the one thing I love the most about it is that it’s so quiet, calm, and even the sound of birds is inaudible.
I take a seat at the table, and watch as he grabs the eggs and bacon from the fridge and starts making breakfast.
The sight is one I’m not used to. Logan never made me breakfast. I was the one who had to get up and make sure it was ready for him before he fin
ished taking his shower. I watch attentively as Connor cooks everything. His focus is on the food he’s making, but his mind is somewhere else. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s a gut feeling I can’t shake. Maybe he is right. Maybe we are connected telepathically. Maybe he feels my dejection just as much as I feel his.
“I made you scrambled eggs. Hope you like them this way,” he says, and places the plate in front of me. He then takes a seat at the opposite end of the table and starts eating.
I don’t touch the food for a beat. I just watch him eat. His jaw is square and he’s intimidatingly large with an equally impressive posture. He’s stronger than Logan. Taller than him, and seems way more powerful than him as well. Yet I’m not scared of him.
“I thought you were hungry,” he says, his gaze never leaving his plate.
I swallow hard and pick up my fork and knife and dive into my food. The moment my gaze drifts to my plate, I feel his eyes on me, and instantly, my legs begin trembling and my heart picks up its speed. But none of these feelings are coming out of fear like they would with Logan. Because for once in a really long time, I feel completely safe.
* * *
Connor
Even the way she eats is done with complete quietness. I’m a man who craves silence. I need it in my life to be able to function. But when it comes to her, I wish I could hear anything but her deafening silence. The atmosphere around her is tense with all the words she keeps bottled up inside of her.
“I have court today. I’m not going to lock the house, or keep you a prisoner like he did. I’m trying to protect you.” I clear my throat and clench my fingers together. “I believe the best thing you can do right now is stay inside and try not to approach the windows. If he sees you, he will know you’re here and he will do anything to get to you. Whatever he has on you is something we can figure out how to get you out from. But until then, trust me and stay hidden here.”
She looks at me wide-eyed. Her chest is heaving, and her breathing is labored. Part of me believes that she trusts me. But somehow, I also feel like she doesn’t want to trust me.
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