by James, Gemma
I was speechless. Birds chirped, a hawk squawked overhead, and the howl of a train roared in the distance. But me? I was fucking speechless.
“Say something, please.” She gripped her arm, fingers curling into the long sleeve of a green shirt. The weather was too warm to cover up so much skin, but I knew why she did it. And she looked fucking scared.
Of me? But that didn’t quite add up. What would cause her to set foot on this island, facing her worst fear and the man who’d kidnapped and raped her?
“After what I put you through,” I said, keeping my tone gentle so I wouldn’t run her off, “I don’t deserve your trust.”
She held out a stack of envelopes. “I wrote these while you were in prison. I want you to read them, but…” She backed away, her gaze roaming in every direction but mine. “I want you to read them alone. I’ll wait out here.”
I stepped onto the porch and took the letters, and our fingers brushed together. A shiver went through me as I thought of the answers I might find inside the envelopes, but there was no way in hell I’d leave her out here alone when she seemed ready to jump out of her skin.
“I’m not leaving you out here by yourself. You can go inside and wait. I’ll read them on the porch.”
She still wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Is Jax home?” she asked.
“No. It’s just me.” Did being alone with me make her feel more threatened? “I’m not going to hurt you, Alex.”
She looked up, her expression so openly startled, I felt it to the bottoms of my feet. “I already know that.” Without another word, she moved past, her shoulder grazing my arm, and entered the cabin. The screen door swung shut behind her. I didn’t move at first, still too stunned and barely grasping the fact that Alex had really shown up at my door.
Finally lowering to the first step, I eyed the bundle of envelopes. The one at the top of the pile had a date on it—just a few months after I’d gone to prison. Removing the rubber band that held them together, I noted how they were all dated. I opened the first one and pulled out a sheet of paper.
Rafe,
It’s been three months, four days, thirteen hours, and some odd minutes since I felt your eyes on me in the courtroom. I’m a horrible person for so many reasons. I took your freedom, and I’m not dumb. I know I wrecked your career too.
But I can’t come forward about your innocence. I’ve tried. You don’t know how many times I’ve fingered my cell, even looked up the number for the detective who handled my case. I went to my father’s car once, keys in hand, and got behind the wheel. I’m not even old enough to drive by myself yet, but I wanted to go to the police and tell them…things.
You’re still in that place, so obviously, I didn’t. It’s taken me this long just to put pen to paper and write you a letter I have no intention of sending. If I’m smart, I’ll destroy this after I’m done.
But I won’t.
I need someone to talk to, and you’re the only person I want to talk to. Besides, the thought of ripping this up is too painful, as if these words were never real. As if my feelings for you don’t exist. I’m selfish like that. Keeping my mouth shut is something I have to do, for your sake, for mine. But I need to lean on you right now. I still remember the day of my mother’s funeral. It was the first and only time you put your arms around me. You’re the only person who’s ever told me the words I always needed to hear:
Everything will be okay.
I love you even more for that. And God, I miss you. Your laughter made the pain in my life a little more bearable. Your presence was the only thing that had the power to make me smile, and I’ve always loved the jittery feelings you stirred in my stomach. I have a few friends at school, no one that close. Definitely no one I can confide in, but sometimes they talk to me. They complain about those flutters, say they lose their tongue and can’t talk to guys.
It’s never been that way with you. That jittery feeling always made me feel alive and connected to you. And we talked all the time, about your dreams of making it to the UFC, about your family. About mine. I envy the closeness you have with your dad. And I know you don’t get along with your brother, but at least he isn’t—
Never mind. Family is a sore subject for me. I used to pretend that you were there for me and not my brother, that you needed to be around me as much as I needed to be near you. I know I’m lying to myself with that one. I’m just a kid. No one important. Someone who isn’t worthy of you. I never was, and now, after what I’ve done, I never will be.
I don’t have the courage to put into words why I did what I did. Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday I’ll pour it all out into a letter and actually send it. Actually do the right thing. But I can’t, because I’m just as trapped as you are.
I need you to know this, Rafe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and it’s taken over my heart and each beat hurts, especially because I know you’ll never forgive me.
But please try.
Yours always,
Alex
Intense relief settled in, and I wiped the sweat from my brow. I hadn’t raped her all those years ago. Her own words proved it. I tore into the stack of her secrets like a starved man, needing more. Most of them were similar to the first, yet the tone shifted with each envelope as time moved forward. A prominent note of desperation and self-hate tainted the ink of her words. Then I came across a letter that branded my insides like a hot iron.
Rafe,
I don’t know what to do! I’m so scared. He’s out of control. He put my science partner in the hospital today, all because the guy asked me out on a date. I wish you were here. I know it’s irrational to wish that. I’m the reason you are where you are. It’s all my fault. My existence has caused so much pain for others.
You’re the only one I can talk to you about any of this, yet I’m still not being honest. I’m still holding stuff back. I’m afraid if I write it out, something really bad will happen. I know I’m being paranoid. Spelling out the words won’t bring the ceiling down, yet I can’t make myself do it.
I wish I were stronger. My mom was strong. I see that now. She let go of this painful Earth because she felt she had no other choice. I hate that she left me, but I understand it now.
I wish I were as brave.
Yours always,
Alex
My hands shook as I pulled out another folded piece of paper. Her words became darker the more I read, and I was close to going inside the cabin and forcing her tell me what she hadn’t said in the letters, but I couldn’t tear myself away.
Rafe,
I got drunk tonight. Graduation is supposed to be cause for celebration, so I partook in the craziness. I shouldn’t have because I was off my game when I came home. He was waiting for me in the shadows, enraged because he thought I’d fucked someone else.
He just left my room, and now…now I’m disgusted with myself and stone cold sober. I don’t fight him anymore. Truth is, I stopped fighting him after they took you away. I fucking hate myself, Rafe. Probably more than you hate me.
He made me come tonight. It’s happened a few times before, but tonight was different. Tonight, he hit me, pinched my nipples so hard he had to smother my cries with a pillow. They weren’t cries of pain, and that’s why I’m so sick right now.
What is wrong with me?
Crazy thing is, as I write this and remember, I’m still turned on. But it’s you I’m thinking of and not him. After I’m done writing this, I’m going to climb into bed and touch myself. I’ll regret thinking of you in the morning because it’s not fair to gain pleasure when you’re where you are.
But I can’t help myself right now. I need to wash away his touch and replace it with something else. When my fingers are sliding between my thighs, I’ll pretend they’re yours, pretend your tongue is down there too. He hasn’t done that yet. I’m probably the only seventeen-year-old girl who hasn’t had her pussy eaten out.
Tonight, in my heart, in my dreams, it’ll be you.
Yours always,
Alex<
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Ah, holy hell. I dropped my head into my hand, her letter still clutched in the other. Reading between the lines filled me with rage. Someone had raped her for years, yet she hadn’t named him. The logical conclusion, since she’d mention he’d been waiting for her when she came home, was that it was someone in her household, or someone who spent a lot time there. An associate of her father’s? A random person hired on as help?
A boyfriend?
I wanted to hunt down whoever it was and castrate the fucker.
Her next letter called to me, and I couldn’t resist the allure of her words. Words meant for me. Words written to me. The stack had thinned considerably, yet there was so much left untold.
Rafe,
Oh. My. God. I’m so sorry. I’m so close to destroying my last letter, but I promised myself I wouldn’t. But that was TMI.
Yours always,
Alex
I shook my head, mouth turning up slightly, and like an addict, I pulled out another, and another. Her need to spill strengthened with each word, each tear that splotched the pages as she poured her heart out. I hurt for her. I hurt for me too, because the way she wrote it, she’d sent me to hell. A hell she hadn’t fully grasped, though she’d sensed it. As I continued to read, a lump formed in my throat.
My nightmares came back to haunt me again, and I did what I hadn’t been able to do before. I accepted them as memories. I’d been violated in prison. Something in that place made me snap, made me embrace the dark side of myself I’d fought for so long. I’d become the type of man who hadn’t settled for fantasies. In Alex, I’d found the perfect excuse to justify an act that was and always would be unforgivable.
I carefully unfolded her last letter, hoping she’d finally tell me what I needed to know.
Rafe,
Today I graduated college. I should be over the moon, right? I’m not. I stopped to look back at my life these past seven years and that’s when it truly hit me. I’ve left you to rot in that place all this time.
One more year, and you’ll be out.
But what will I say to you? I want to see you so badly I ache with it. The need is a beast inside me, tearing my chest open and spilling my heart onto the floor. My crush has turned into a full-fledged obsession.
Dad wants me to take over the position of managing accountant for the business. I’ve got the degree for it, but the MMA world is the last place I want to be. That’s where HE is. I’m shaking as I write this because I want so badly to write his name, but I just can’t.
At the very least, you deserve to know why I sent you to prison, and I need to get it out of me once and for all because I need to move on. Dad set me up with a business partner. He’s much older, but he’s nice. Best of all, he’s not…him.
Maybe I’m clinging to the first opportunity to break free, though it feels like I’m trading one prison for another. I don’t love this guy. I barely know him, but I can tell he’s serious about me. He’s already asked me to go with him to Paris for Christmas.
I’m stalling. I know I’m stalling. I’ve written you so many letters, but I’ve never explained. So here goes, from the beginning.
It started right after I met you. At first, I fought him. Over time, it was easier to give in. Then…I became a whore. I don’t fight him anymore because he gets me off. It’s sick and disgraceful. I know this. I’ve tried to get him to leave me alone, have even done some extreme things to break free for a while, but he always pulls me back.
When I was fifteen, he got me pregnant. I got an abortion, and when Dad found out, he went through the roof. I don’t know why he told Dad you raped me…no, that’s not true. He did it because he was jealous of you. He’s always been jealous of you.
You’re probably wondering why I went along with the lie. I ask myself the same thing all the time. But I’ve seen his rage, seen firsthand what he’s capable of, and he threatened to kill you if I didn’t back him up. Hindsight’s 20/20, they say. I know now that I should have stood up to him. You’re a big boy and could’ve taken care of yourself. At the time, though, the threat choked me.
Now it’s too late. You’ll be out in a year…less, actually. I need to let you go. I need you to get past this and be happy. I want your forgiveness more than you could know, but that’s an impossible dream. I wouldn’t forgive me. I can’t forgive myself.
Rafe, this is the last time I’ll write, and you’ll be safe because you’ll never read these letters. You’ll live your life hating me, and I’ll have to find a way to live with that. If I could say one thing to you right now, it would be how sorry I am. He did it because I love you.
Yours always,
Alex
I dropped the page, watched it flutter to the ground, and stared at it for what seemed like forever. She waited inside, and I found it ironic that she was scared to face me. That she wanted my forgiveness. I’d kidnapped and done unforgivable acts—things I couldn’t even recall—to a victim of rape. Maybe I’d feel differently if I remembered the last eight years, but I didn’t.
So that begged the question…what the fuck was I supposed to say to her?
Gathering her letters, I rose to my feet and pulled the screen door open. She’d left the front door cracked. Slowly, I stepped inside and the sound of running water brought me into the kitchen where I found her loading my fucking dishwasher like it was an everyday chore she did.
She must have sensed my presence because she shut off the faucet, though she didn’t move or turn around. “You read them?”
“Every word.” I wanted to ask her so many things. Why didn’t she send the letters? Why was she giving them to me now? Most of all, I wanted to know the name of the scumbag who’d raped her. I had my suspicions, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it yet. I placed the envelopes on the table and fisted my hands. With all the pent-up rage rushing through my veins, I was surprised at how level my words came out. “Why are you doing my dishes?”
She shrugged. “To stay busy.”
“Can you turn around and talk to me?”
“I’m scared, Rafe.”
“I already told you”—willing the anger to leave my voice and body, I unfurled my fists and relaxed my stance—“I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She propped against the counter, fingers clutching the edge. “I’m scared of what you’re thinking. We’ve been through so much together, but letting you read those letters was like giving you free access to my journal.”
“Why’d you do it then?”
She dropped her head. “I let everyone around me dictate my life. I’ve basically been a doormat. What I did, sending you away like that when you hadn’t even touched me…if I could change one thing, it would be that.” She inhaled then let the breath out in a whoosh. “I want to make this right,” she said, voice fracturing, “but I don’t know if I can do it alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you like that again.” It felt like a dick thing to say, considering how the words came from a hypocrite’s mouth, but it was the truth. I wanted to tear into the person who’d done this to her. By the time I was through, no one would recognize his disgusting face. “Who raped you?”
She paused, back straightening before she whirled around to face me. “What?” Her large green eyes rounded in shock.
Shit. Fucking amnesia. The eight-year blank she knew nothing about.
“There’s something you need to know.” I gestured toward the half-filled dishwasher. “Those can wait.” I pulled out a chair and gave her a pointed look.
Rather than cross the few feet between us, she wiped her palms on her jeans. “Why are you acting like this?” Her voice rose, on the level of screeching, and the confusion on her face splintered through me. “Don’t treat me like I’m breakable. I want you back! I need you back.” She blinked rapidly, sucked in several breaths, and to my horror, tears leaked down her cheeks. “Make me sit in that chair.”
I gaped at her, at a complet
e loss. “Alex…come sit down. We need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk! I want you to turn back time and come after me.” She doubled over, her shoulders quaking with sobs. “I want you to take back control! Stop acting like nothing happened between us.” She wiped the hair from her eyes and slid to the floor, the fight bleeding from her body, then covered her face with her hands.
Carefully, I closed the distance and a sense of Deja vu came over me. I crouched in front of her, pulling her hands to the sides of her damp cheeks. “I don’t remember.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The last eight years, Alex.” Of their own volition, our fingers entwined. “I don’t remember any of it.”
18. ABSOLUTION
Alex
He didn’t remember?
I searched his eyes, looking for a hint of recognition as I attempted to process what he’d told me.
Anything?
I tried to imagine what it would be like to wipe away that much pain and betrayal. Poof, gone. No more hurt, no more baggage, just a chance at a clean slate. Hadn’t I tried to do the same, albeit a more permanent method born from desperation in a bathroom in the middle of nowhere?
His fingers tightened around mine, instantly grounding me. “Now you’re the one who needs to say something.”
“I…” What if he’d forgotten for a reason? What if deep down, he didn’t want to know? “I don’t know what to say.”