Screw

by Atlas, Lilly

  Jesus Christ. He wanted to gather her in his arms and press his lips to that spot. But he held back because this was about Jazz purging the poison, and her story wasn’t over. “What did your parents do?”

  Her laugh was bitter. “Brushed it under the rug. Said he must have been high and not acting rationally, but it was so much more than that. I think they were just relieved when he vanished again. The next time he came back, I was sixteen and terrified of him. My parents let him stay for a month and I hid from him as much as possible. He was always watching me with this distrustful gaze. A few times he made comments about the devil, but I never stuck around long enough to hear him out. He cornered me once, but I got away. After that month, he was gone for another year. The pattern continued, where he’d show up then disappear. He cut me a few more times, nothing that required medical attention, but it was always so painful.”

  She shrugged as though it was no big deal, but Gumby thought he was going to be sick. Her family hadn’t protected her. Just let some strung out head case torture her. There had to be more she wasn’t telling them. Her recounting was growing too…clinical. What about the daily fear? What about all the nights she had to go to sleep wondering if and when Paul would show up and what state he’d be in.

  “The last time I saw him was Memorial Day weekend in twenty-eighteen.”

  Gumby froze, unable to draw in a breath. Memorial Day weekend. Jesus Christ, the Saturday he’d canceled their date had been two days before Memorial Day.

  She flicked a glance in his direction but that was all the indication she gave that the specific date held any other meaning.

  Clueless as to the added tension, Screw reached out and grasped Jazz’s hands, stopping her from ripping off her thumb nail. “You’re going to ruin your nails.”

  She didn’t seem to notice, just barreled on with her story. “I was in my apartment, alone. I didn’t even think he knew where I lived. After I moved out of our parents’ house at twenty, I made sure I never saw him again, at least not if I was alone. Anyway, that night, there was a knock on my door. I answered without checking the peephole. I thought it was…” Her gaze flicked in his direction before she shook her head. “I thought it was someone else, so I answered without looking. Didn’t matter what I thought. I should have checked. I always checked. But that night I made a decision I will forever regret.”

  She’d thought it was him. Had she thought he’d finished his club business early and decided to surprise her? He’d had the shit beaten out of him countless times as a kid, but nothing compared to the internal pain of her admission.

  She took a shuddering breath.

  “Do you need to stop?” Screw asked.

  Thank God for him. Gumby couldn’t speak to save his life.

  “No. I just…it’s hard to relive. And I’ve never told the story to anyone. But I need to finish now that I’ve started.” She trembled. “I need to get it out.”

  As though he could no longer stand the separation, Screw drew her off the coffee table and onto his lap. She struggled for all of two seconds before relaxing against his broad chest.

  Gumby turned so he was facing the two of them. They made a beautiful picture. Jazz with her short dark hair, creamy skin. Screw with his longer, brown hair, scruffy face, and tanned skin.

  Gorgeous.

  Instead of feeling jealous, feeling like Screw was poaching his woman, he felt satisfied seeing them together. It seemed right, but because he was present too. He wrapped his hand around her calf, giving a squeeze in support.

  “P-Paul pushed his way into my h-house and just…attacked.” She choked out a sob. “S-same thing as always, I was p-possessed. He was the only one who could save me. He shoved me, and I fell. For a moment, I was stunned, and he managed to drag me into my kitchen. As he started to yank my clothes off, I really did think he was going to rape me, but he wasn’t remotely interested in that.” The words tumbled out one right after another, so fast he almost couldn’t make them out.

  She blinked, tears coursing down her face. “H-he pulled out a knife, same one he’d used in the past. As soon as I saw it, I nearly passed out, I was so t-terrified. I’ll never forget the feeling of being truly paralyzed by my fear. He o-ordered me to get up and sit in one of my kitchen chairs.”

  Screw’s big hand coasted up and down her back. Gumby met his gaze. Rage simmered in his eyes, much the same emotion Gumby was experiencing. Paul was a dead man. Somehow, someway, the man would pay for every mark he put on Jazmine.

  “I didn’t get off the ground. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. My hair was a little longer then, and Paul yanked me up by it, dropping me onto a chair. Before I had a chance to process what was happening, he had my arms and legs tied to the chair with…with this gold ribbon I’d used to decorate Fia and Acer’s wedding gift.”

  Gumby’s heart couldn’t take much more, yet she hadn’t even finished.

  “H-he, he cut me. Bad. Deep. So much deeper than ever b-before,” she said, choking on the words. “A-and he didn’t s-stop. So many times. Over and over.” She shook her head back and forth against Screw’s chest. “I was screaming.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Just screaming and screaming. I’d never screamed so much in my life. And Paul just kept repeating, ‘I have to save you. I have to save you.’ He truly believed he was bleeding some kind of evil spirit out of me.” She’d gone from whispered words, to near shouts of hysteria in a few sentences.

  “Jesus, Jazz,” Screw said. He stopped stroking her back and just held her. “Breathe, baby.”

  She did as instructed, sucking in a few shuddered breaths before speaking again. “H-he cut my arms, my stomach, my chest, my, my b-breasts,” she said, whispering the last part.

  A low, deadly growl came from Screw.

  With each word from her mouth, Gumby felt the prick of a knife scoring his own skin. The words your fault throbbed through his head over and over in time with his pulse.

  She wouldn’t have been home.

  If he hadn’t canceled on her, she wouldn’t have been home. Wouldn’t have been brutalized by a very ill man. He didn’t know how she could even stand to look at him, let alone have him under her roof for weeks.

  How would he look himself in the mirror, knowing what his actions had caused? He deserved a punishment as bad as what Paul earned.

  “How did you get away?” Screw asked, bringing him back to the conversation at hand.

  “I’m not, I’m not really sure. Some of the details are hazy. I passed out at some point, probably from the blood loss. There’s this murky memory of someone knocking on my door. I’m guessing they heard me scream. I came to on the floor.” She shuddered and Gumby would have done anything in that moment to erase those horrifying memories.

  They were the kind that never left. The kind that snuck up, wrapped a hand around your throat, and squeezed until the air stopped flowing. The kind that took over, clogging the mind and destroying confidence, relationships…lives. Somehow Jazz hadn’t let that happen. Yes, she’d suffered and continued to suffer, but she’d survived and made a life for herself. A life where she was safe, happy, and loved.

  “Two things came to me even before the pain registered. And, God, was there pain. I tried to sit up, but my hands slipped on the ground. It was so damn slippery.” Her throat rose and fell as she swallowed down what was probably hysteria. “So much blood. The smell hit my nose at the same time I realized what had caused me to lose traction. This metallic, sickening smell I still wake up to in the middle of the night. I kinda freak out at the sight of blood these days.” She gave them a sheepish smile.

  “Christ,” Screw said, his voice thick. The other man blinked as though struggling with his emotions.

  Gumby understood. Keeping himself in check took everything he had. But now wasn’t the time to make this about him or Screw. Jazz needed to purge the toxicity she’d held onto in silence for so long.

  “Did you go to the hospital? I mean…no one heard from
you after that day. It was as though you vanished until you sent Lila a text saying you’d left town and didn’t want to be contacted.”

  She flushed as she nodded. “I drove myself to a hospital in the next county.”

  “Jesus, Jazmine.” Gumby pushed off the couch and stalked through the den. As his blood boiled, he turned on her. “Do you know how stupid that was? What if you’d passed out on the road?”

  Screw also stood after setting Jazz on the couch. With a much calmer expression, he walked to Gumby. Two strong hands landed on Gumby’s shoulders nearly making him shiver at the warmth. “Hey,” Screw said. “She’s good. She’s here. She’s strong. Let’s let her finish the story.”

  Shit, he was an asshole. “Yeah, of course. Sorry, Jazzy.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “You’re right. I know that, and if I heard that any of you did the same thing, I’d flip out on you. But I was desperate. Humiliated, scared he’d come back, terrified of what I looked like. I didn’t want to risk Lila seeing me in the Emergency Room, so I went elsewhere. I was too ashamed. And two days later when I got out, I stayed in a hotel until my affairs were in order. Then I left.”

  The thought of her, broken, scared, alone, leaving all she knew behind…

  Gumby caught Screw’s gaze and the agony there reflected what he felt deep inside.

  Something passed between them. A non-verbal agreement, a truce, maybe a cease-fire. Jazz was what was important tonight and neither man would be leaving until she knew what a goddess she was.

  Screw walked over to her, gently taking her tear-stained face between his hands. “I’m in fucking awe of you, Jazmine.”

  She snorted. “You really are crazy.”

  “No,” he said, so serious, Jazz’s eyes widened. “I’ve known you were gorgeous from the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew you were funny the first time you shot a witty comeback at my flirting. I knew you were compassionate when you offered to babysit Beth that time Shell was in a jam. You’d known them for all of two days but jumped right in to help. I knew you were sweet the first time you brought food to the guys at the clubhouse. And I knew you were selfless when I watched you wink at a customer who couldn’t pay their bill as you told them it was covered. The moment you turned your back, I watched you dig through your tip money to take care of their check.”

  None of this surprised Gumby. He’d known for years the kind of person Jazz was. They were all reasons he’d pursued her. Her face was bright red and adorable as she listened to Screw extol her virtues.

  “But I had no idea the core of steel that lay beneath this beautiful exterior. And I’m in complete awe of it.”

  “I’m not beautiful. Not even close. And strong?” Her harsh laugh gutted Gumby. “Don’t even go there. I’m so far from strong it’s not even funny.”

  “Bullshit,” Gumby growled it out as his anger began to bubble to the surface. “Is that how you see yourself? As ugly and weak? Because if so, the only problem you have is poor eyesight.”

  Jazz frowned as silent tears streamed from her red rimmed eyes. “It’s what I know. Not how I see myself.” She looked him straight in the eye and gave him the saddest smile. “I-I haven’t been able to look at myself without clothes in a year and a half.”

  And if that wasn’t the most tragic thing he’d ever heard, he didn’t know what was.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JAZZ HAD NEVER felt fatigue like she did just then. This deep, emotional exhaustion that consumed her and made her want to sleep until the memories disappeared.

  But they’d never leave her. No matter how hard she wished them away or how long she slept, that horrible night would always be a part of her.

  She trembled under the intense gazes of the men she’d just spilled her most private shame to. For so long, she’d feared someone would catch sight of her scars, find out what had happened to her, and she’d be forced to admit the demoralizing tale.

  She’d been unprepared for today to be that day, but standing there, the sole focus of Screw and Gumby’s attention, she felt a degree of relief among the draining emotions. A small measure. As if the knowledge that she no longer hid a massive secret from the entire world lightened her.

  Even though she’d confessed what happened, she hadn’t meant to let them know just how deep her body image issues ran. It was one thing for them to know she didn’t want others to see her scars, and quite another to learn she couldn’t stand the sight of her own body.

  Leave it to Screw to pounce on the admission. “What do you mean you haven’t looked at yourself?”

  With a laugh that sounded forced, she waved away his concern. “Nothing, I was just being dumb.”

  He cupped her shoulders with his big hands, fingertips digging into the muscles at the base of her neck. Jazz nearly moaned as the knots gave way to his talented massage. Nothing, not even tension was a match for Screw when it came to touch. “It wasn’t nothing. It’s exactly why you lost it today in the diner.”

  She tried to avoid his gaze, but he wouldn’t allow it, taking her chin in his hand and tipping it up.

  “Are you trying to tell me you haven’t looked at your body since you were injured?”

  If only she could sink through the floor right now.

  “Jazz,” Gumby breathed. “I’m so…God, I’m so sorry.” He sounded as devastated as she felt. As though his insides had been pulverized by a meat grinder. The apology wasn’t just for what she went through, but what he perceived as his part in it. The words were so laden with guilt. Her story must have wrecked him especially since she’d alluded to harboring undeserved anger toward him for so long.

  Oh, God, why had she opened her big mouth? He was going to blame himself. She shifted her gaze from Screw to Gumby.

  The man seemed to have shrunk before her eyes, sinking in on himself with the weight of her account. Why the hell had she blabbed the story? Why now of all times? “Gumby,” she whispered.

  “Is it true? How is that even possible?” Screw asked, oblivious to the extra reason for Gumby’s agony.

  With another light laugh she didn’t feel, she said, “Guys, it’s no big deal. I just avoid mirrors and close my eyes when I’m changing or showering. You’d be amazed at how good I am at blind shaving.” She gave them a sunny grin.

  When neither man so much as cracked a smile, her bravado deflated.

  “Don’t play it off, Jazzy,” Screw said. “You need to look. You need to see that you haven’t been destroyed. That you’re beautiful.” He cupped the back of her neck. “You can’t live your life afraid of your own skin. What about men? What about sex?”

  Her damn stomach began to quiver, and her breath felt stunted. She rolled her eyes. “Leave it to you to turn this into a sex thing.”

  Screw didn’t take the bait. The compassion and understanding in his gaze edged too close to pity to be tolerable, so she pulled away and put a few feet of distance between them.

  “He’s not making it a sex thing, Jazzy.”

  God, now Gumby decided to take Screw’s side?

  “It’s a legitimate concern. Are you going to close yourself off from relationships, from pleasure for the rest of your life?” Gumby reached for her but she stepped back.

  “I pleasure myself just fine,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t need to stare at a mess of scars to use my vibrator.”

  She didn’t miss the way Screw’s nostrils flared and his jaw tightened. “What about comfort? What about connection? What about sharing a life with someone?” he asked.

  Jazz’s head fell back on her shoulders as a genuine laugh bubbled out of her. “Oh, that’s rich. That how you view the future, Screw? Pretty sure you think that’s all a load of bullshit. You don’t need any of it to get off, so why the fuck would I?”

  “Because you’re a better person than I am.” He got in her face. “Because you deserve what Toni and Shell have. What Izzy and Chloe and Holly have. You deserve it fucking all.”
His voice rose to a yell, and she fought the urge to run and hide.

  “Screw, come on, man.” Gumby pulled him back with a hand on his shoulder. It lingered far longer than acceptable before stroking a path down Screw’s back. The men shared a look, heated and full of longing. The connection between them took her right back to the scene she’d observed in the bunk room the other night.

  She’d much rather focus on that than the mess of her own life. Time for a subject change.

  Jazz cocked her head. “You know, I saw you two.”

  Both men froze, but Gumby’s was the only face she saw as Screw had turned his back to her. He cleared his throat. “Saw us?”

  “Mm-hmm. At the clubhouse.”

  Gumby paled.

  Screw turned, wide-eyed. “And what is it you think you saw?”

  “Your mouth. His cock.” She nudged her chin in Gumby’s direction before noticing the man looked ready to throw up.

  Shit.

  Making him uncomfortable wasn’t the point here. Was he worried she’d be angry? Jealous? Or worse, was he ashamed of his desires?

  A smirk tilted Screw’s lips. “Yeah, I sucked his cock. Fucking loved it too. And he’s lying if he tells you he didn’t fucking love it. Guy came like a geyser.”

  Even though Gumby appeared ready to bolt, she plowed on. “Saw that too.” Jesus, what the hell was wrong with her? There she was again, pushing because she felt cornered, just as she’d done in the diner only this time her words were cutting a man who didn’t deserve harshness from her.

  “You know this won’t work, right?” Screw said, slowly stalking toward her.

  She was trapped, pinned by his piercing gaze. “I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered.

  He circled behind her, placing his lips at her ear. “You’re trying to shock us. Make us forget what happened to you. It won’t work. Look at him.” She glanced at Gumby, who now wore a look of understanding, though an underlying current of guilt and maybe even shame still flowed from him.