by Charles, Eva
With the plug still seated deep inside me, he shoves his cock into me. It hits the deep center with a single brutal thrust. My groans bounce off the walls. I grab handfuls of straw to steady myself. My thighs are shaking.
“Shhh.” He stills and brushes his hands over my flank in long strokes to settle me in the way he’d calm a skittish mare. “Breathe. Deep breaths, darlin’.”
He brings a hand under me and strokes my clit. Yes! Yes, I want more of that.
“Look at you, in the mirror with your pretty pearls. You’re a gift fit for the gods. Lips dark and bruised. Cunt ripe and needy. Is that how you feel, slip ripe, eager to be picked?” I can’t form words so I nod. “You ready for me?”
He’s still buried to the hilt, but he hasn’t moved. His voice is raspy, and I know his control is unraveling. And when it does—when he starts to thrust, long and hard—I don’t know how I’ll stay upright.
He pulls out and pushes back inside. I whimper. “What do you see, Gabrielle?”
“Me.”
“That’s right.” He’s thrusting in and out, the rhythm is punishing. I’m squirming on his cock. “What else?”
“You.”
“What’s my name?”
“Julian,” I gasp.
“What am I doing?”
“Fucking me.”
“Yes. I’m fucking you.” He twists the plug in my ass. “I own all your holes. How does that feel?”
When I don’t answer him, he pulls out the plug and pushes it back inside, twisting it until I’m shaking. “Good. It feels good.”
“Just good? That’s it, darlin’? Just good?”
“Amazing. It feels amazing.”
He leans over me. His hands are all over my skin. And his cock is wedged deep when his teeth find my flesh. Sinking into muscle. Marking me. I watch in the mirror, but I can’t process any of it through my eyes. I’m nothing but sensation.
My belly begins to tighten and my heavy eyelids droop shut. He grips my hips tightly. “Eyes open. Watch yourself come all over my cock like a dirty little slut.”
With every thrust, the plug moves. Just as I start to come in a shaking mess, he pulls out the plug. I scream. It’s desperate and deafening. I feel him tense. I force my eyes open. His head is tipped back. His thrusts are deep and brutal. A tortured growl erupts, and I watch his face contort as he empties himself inside me with a single, long shudder.
After a few seconds, he meets my gaze in the mirror. His eyes are bright and clear. Sparkling like the sea. He lowers his mouth to my shoulders, sprinkling kisses over them while he pulls out.
My limbs are stiff. I stretch them, testing cautiously like a newborn colt.
JD grabs a sleeping bag from nearby and spreads it on the hay. “I wanted you to experience the hay under you. But this will be more comfortable now.”
I curl up beside him. Into his warm hard body. And sleep.
* * *
When I wake up JD is asleep. But I barely move a muscle before he’s pulling me closer. “Where you going?”
“You’re not a very sound sleeper.”
“Not much of a sleeper at all.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit. I’m not as young as I used to be.” I snuggle back into him. “JD?”
“Hmmm?”
“You did this,” I wave my hand around, “to erase my memory of you and Jane.”
“I did it because I’m tired of feeling you tense up every time I have you on all fours. I’m not about to give up having sex like that because your head is filled with nonsense.”
“Such a romantic.”
He pinches my ass and I squeal. But he doesn’t let me get away. He rolls me onto my back and brushes the hair off my face.
“I wanted to free you from that memory. To free us both from it. I couldn’t take you back to the stable at Wildwood, but this place felt like it would work.”
I run my fingertip over his stubble, loving the prickliness. “It’s gorgeous in here with all the soft lights.” I rub a few pieces of hay between my fingers. “It’s so fresh. Like it was just cut this morning.”
“It might have been. I had it delivered late this afternoon. I’m not picky about who I share my bed with, but you don’t like mice. I didn’t want to give them a chance to make themselves at home.”
I kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I don’t know if it will work. If it will—”
“It did today.”
All of a sudden, I feel a little shy. “It certainly did. But even if it doesn’t last forever. Thank you for trying. Thank you for all this.”
“It wasn’t exactly a hardship for me.” His eyes twinkle in the candlelight.
“I noticed.”
He’s hard again. I’m not sure if I can come anymore tonight. But I want him inside me. I want to feel his heart near mine. His warm breath on my skin. “JD?”
“Hmmm?”
“I’m ready to move back to the main house.”
“My cock can be very persuasive.”
I elbow him. “It wasn’t the sex.” I glance around the room. “It was all this. You trying to repair my soul.”
“What do you mean it wasn’t the sex?” He pins my wrists over my head. “Maybe I need to give it another go.”
25
Gabrielle
When I move my things back into JD’s house, I notice he’s added a couple items to the closet, including a down-filled jacket. The kind you’d need for a ski trip to Maine, but not one that would get much use in Charleston. There’s also a barely pink, double-breasted wool coat with velvet buttons. I’m quite sure this same coat was in a magazine I leafed through while waiting in line at the grocery store a few weeks ago. I’m going to kill him.
We decided I would keep the wing of the house Lally and Patrick set up for me. Not to sleep in, but to use as my own private space. I’m here now to rummage through the boxes of Georgie’s journals Wade put in my car the day of the funeral. Today is Georgie’s birthday, and I’ve been a little weepy all day. I miss her. Maybe reading through the journals, drinking in her words, will bring her close. Help me reminisce about the good times, the fun we had together.
The journals are ordered by year. I pull out the lilac-colored diary, with a sparkly pony on the cover, and read from the beginning. I eat up every silly nine-year-old girl thought, laughing until I’m crying. I inhale the next one, too, and begin to hungrily devour the third. Georgie’s musings, to an imaginary Lolo, are just what I needed today.
Dear Lolo,
I went to the big white house again today and this time Daddy gave me a pretty bracelet! Just for me! It’s made of real gold and its got a big round charm with G on the front and P on the back for princess! Its written in curly cursive and its so beautiful! Daddy said it cost a lot of money but he was happy to pay it because I’m so special. He wanted a hug. I would give him a million hugs! Then he put me on his lap because thats how Daddys take care of their special princesses. Then we had a secret. But I can tell you because you won’t tell anyone. He touched my privates. Its called a pussy. Because its going to have a lot of hair on it like a kitty. And when you pet it, it purrs like a pussy cat. That’s what Daddy said. Mine never purred before. There must be a special way to touch it. Daddy said he would make it purr for me next time.
Love,
Georgie
I bring my hands to my face. Oh my God! Her father molested her. I’m not sure whether to read more or to run to the bathroom to throw up. Oh Georgie! Why didn’t you tell me? I put the journal down, and then I pick it up to read more. How could this have happened under my nose without me knowing a thing about it?
Dear Lolo,
Today Daddy petted my pussy and it didn’t purr but I made little kitten sounds. It felt really good! He put something cold on it like lotion only it didn’t have any color. It made it all slippery and then he rubbed it for a long time until my legs were shaking. I was a little scared but he said not to worry that all girls like
to be petted. And if your petted real good you shake. He needs to take care of me because my other daddy drinks to much so he can’t take care of me in the way daddys take care of there special princesses. That’s what he told me. He gave me lots and lots of hugs on his lap and kisses. He said I did real good. He was so proud of me! He gave me cherry cordials dipped in milk chocolate and wrapped in gold foil! He let me eat two!! And I got to take the rest home for after supper!
Love,
Georgie
My stomach is roiling something awful. Maybe it’s not her father. Who else would she call Daddy? Think Gabrielle, think. They’re the streaming thoughts of a little girl, written in a barely- eleven-year old’s scratch, and I have to admit, I’m not following them very well. I reread the entry. The big white house—the main house. DW. DW molested her. Oh Georgie, baby! That’s why you were so afraid. I’m so sorry. It’s not too late to punish him. I promise you, it’s not.
My eyes bleed, but I keep reading. I read through oral sex and vaginal sex. I read as he penetrates her with objects, and buys her trust with candy and trinkets, and false love, and attention she didn’t otherwise get. He groomed her carefully, but it didn’t take long, because she was so desperate for affection.
She wrote about big O, daddy’s friend. That bastard Olson, I assume, who threatened her. Warned her bad things would happen to her if she told anyone. She was eleven the first time DW touched her, and by the time she was twelve he had raped her anally. The abuse went on for years.
Dear Lolo,
Daddy’s wife she came into the office today. She was so mad at him. She drove me home and asked if it was okay to stay here alone because my daddy, the other one, was drunk and sleeping. She said maybe it wasn’t safe for me. She asked so many things. Did anyone come to the house from social services? Did I ever talk to a social worker? Maybe that would be nice for me she said. She asked if Daddy touched me. (her daddy) I said no. I didn’t like to lie because she is real nice but I have to keep the secret or I might die. That’s what big O said. He’s mean.
Love,
Georgie
Dear Lolo,
Daddy’s wife is dead. Big O said she wasn’t a good secret keeper. Daddy said God punished her. He said he’ll take care of me again soon. After the funeral. Now he has only one little girl princess. I can have all the gifts now. Everything will be for me because I make him so happy even when he’s sad.
“JD! JD!” I scream, racing down the stairs with the journal tucked under my arm. He’s at the bottom of the steps by the time I get there. “He raped her!”
JD put his hands on my arms. “Slow down. Who raped who?”
“Your father. He raped Georgie.” All the blood drains from his face. I see flickers of anger in his eyes, before the storm hits. His throat ripples right before he speaks. “Let’s not have this conversation here,” he whispers, dragging me toward the study. He doesn’t say another word until we’re inside his private room and the door’s closed. I shouldn’t have said anything until we were in here, either. But I didn’t think.
“How do you know this?” he demands, his hands squeezing my shoulders.
“Her journals. It’s all in her journals. Your mother suspected. I think he killed her,” I add softly.
JD draws in a breath, but he doesn’t say anything. His hands are still on me. They’re trembling. I reach up to cover them with mine. “It’s in the journals. All of it.”
He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and nods. “Is that it?” he asks, taking the journal from under my arm.
I nod. “The page is marked with the ribbon. It’s where I stopped.”
I watch his eyes across over the print. He reads several pages, then glances up at me. “Is this the only one?”
I shake my head. “The rest are upstairs. I’ll get them.”
“You stay right here. I’ll go.”
“There are two boxes,” I tell him. “In the blue room. One is still in the closet. And a few of the journals are on the desk.” He’s out the door before I finish.
26
Julian
I take the steps two at a time. I’m not thinking about Georgie, not right now. I’m thinking about my mother. And my sister. Sera was just a year younger than Georgie. That sonofabitch spared no one. It’s eating up my gut.
I pull out my phone and call Smith. “He killed them. We have the proof.”
“What?” Smith asks. “What kind of proof?”
“Journals. Georgie kept journals. The fucking monster raped her when she was a little girl and my mother died two days after she caught him. It’s all there. I need your help.”
“Name it.”
“I want to pull out every piece of incriminating evidence in those journals and I want to create a timeline.”
“I’ll be right over.”
“We’ll be in the closet.”
I carry both boxes down. They hold the evidence I’ve been searching for. I thought I’d feel some sense of euphoria when I had him by the balls, but I’m not feeling it. Maybe after we have everything pieced together.
“Did you find everything?” Gabrielle asks when I get downstairs.
I put the boxes down on the table. “I think so. Smith’s on his way over to help me sort through these. You should go up to bed. It’s going to be a long night.”
“Don’t you dare. I am not going anywhere. She was my best friend. And those people in the car that he killed and maimed, they were my friends too. I loved all of them.”
I pull her close to me. “I know that. But this is going to be brutal. I don’t want you subjected to any more tonight. Don’t fight me on this.”
She stares at me, into my soul, for long minutes. At least that’s how it feels. “I’m staying,” she says calmly. “Because we’re partners, or we’re nothing. I will not leave your side while you comb through these journals searching for evidence that your father murdered your mother and sister.”
I hear the alarm chime when Smith comes in. “Grab some sticky notes and pushpins from the cabinet,” I say to Smith. “And colored pens. Three yellow notepads too.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabrielle relax.
“C’mere,” I murmur to her, pulling her into my side. I press my lips into the top of her head. “You need to be a better listener. But I don’t deserve you.”
Smith comes back before she can say anything smart. “You sure you want to be here for this, Gabby?” he asks.
“She’s stayin’.”
He looks at me and nods. “Just checking.”
It’s dawn before we finish. There are index cards with color-coded push pins along one side of the wall. Red for information regarding the accident. Blue for evidence of the molestation. The blues outnumber the reds thirty-five to one. When we’re finished we don’t know anything more about the accident than when we started. It’s all another fucking dead end. Only to get to this one we had to read pages and pages of a twelve-year-old being sodomized. None of us will ever be the same again.
Smith and I both tried to get Gabrielle to go upstairs to sleep. But she wasn’t having any of it. We sent her to the kitchen for food and coffee as often as we could get away with it. I was sick just watching her read the filth. The pure evil that was my father. And more than once, I wondered if she thought I was like him. It must have crossed her mind. Because it sure as hell crossed mine.
Georgie flirted with me as a kid, because after he was done with her, he encouraged her to move on to me. She was confused at first, and hurt, but she wanted nothing more than to please him. I live to make him happy, she wrote. When he cut things off with her completely, she first chased me to make him jealous, but later she wrote, I’m in love with JD. She obsessed about me for pages and pages and pages. For entire journals, like a fifteen and sixteen-year-old stalker. But what gutted me most, was Gabrielle reading about how jealous Georgie was of her. She wrote some nasty things about Gabrielle. Although even through the ugliness, it was evident Georgina always loved her friend.
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Gabrielle was strong, and I watched her fight back tears while she read. “This doesn’t change anything,” she told Smith and me. “It’s just teenage stuff. I still love her.” There were other times when she whispered, “He treated her like she wasn’t even human. Like she was an object to be used and thrown away when he’d had enough.”
The night was long and grueling, and more of my soul crumbled under the weight of Georgie’s words and Gabrielle’s grief-stricken face. And the worst part of it? The worst part of it was that in the end there wasn’t a fucking shred of evidence that could be used to bring that motherfucker to justice.
“This is revolting,” Smith says, pointing toward the index cards on the wall. “But this isn’t evidence. Not without a corroborating witness.”
“What do you mean?” Gabrielle demands, a hand propped on her hip. “It’s all here. We can corroborate all of it.”
“The journals are the rantings of a teenage girl. One who sounds insane in some places. Without her, we have nothing.”
Gabrielle sags into a chair and pulls her legs up, wrapping her arms around them. She rests her chin on her knees and begins to sob. “He can’t get away with this.”
I pull her chair near me and drag her onto my lap. “He won’t, darlin’. This is just the beginning.”
I am so full of shit.
27
Gabrielle
I’m lying in bed pretending to be asleep while JD gets ready for work. Normally he’s out the door at the crack of dawn, but he seems in no hurry to leave this morning.
It figures.
I bought a pregnancy test last night, and using it is all I can think about. Well, not all. I can’t stop thinking about what will happen if it’s positive, either. It’ll be positive, Gabrielle. You are pregnant. Yes, I’m pregnant. I just need to see the proof.