You Loved Me At My Weakest (You Loved Me #2)

by Evie Harper

  He holds me close and I stare at the rose on my wrist with my hand flat against his chest, thinking how lucky I am.

  One lone tear falls and splashes on my rose.

  Something is still wedged between the pages of my book. I flip through until it stops at what’s sitting within the pages of the greatest love story ever told. A necklace. It has a silver chain with a glass orb, filled with what looks like rose petals. My rose petals.

  On the page, where the chain is nestled, these words are now highlighted.

  “For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

  I close the play and with one hand, I clutch the book and necklace to my chest. Lost and staring at my pressed rose, I slowly sink to the carpet as my legs can no longer hold me up.

  Tears silently fall as I continue staring at a piece of history that held so many possibilities for me. A girl who had the world at her feet. This pressed rose represents who I was and a moment in time where I was perfect and untainted.

  A life, a wonderful life which was ripped away from me. Taken by the devil, and in return, all he gave me was a broken mind and soul. Scars to bring back to my family and destroy them with.

  I hate Marco. I hate Donovan. I hate them all! I hate this world and the me they created.

  I lay my body on the floor, releasing uncontrollable sobs. They crawl from my shattered heart and out my mouth into the world around me. And the one thing that makes me cry the hardest is that there is nothing anyone can do to give me back my life.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I hear banging. I lift my head only to groan at the stiffness of my neck. I stretch out and find it’s because I’m lying on my bedroom floor. I look around and realize I must have fallen asleep crying.

  The knocking continues, making me more alert. Looking at the clock, it’s three in the afternoon. I’d slept for almost five hours.

  I quickly walk out of the room and down the stairs. Peering through the window in the dining room, I find Kanye standing at the door, staring at it as if he’s about to tear it off its hinges. What’s he doing here? I didn’t think he would want to see me so soon after this morning’s disastrous conversation.

  I watch as he fishes out some keys from the back pocket of his jeans and puts them in the front door. He opens the door and storms inside. He looks into the lounge room, then to the dining room, completely missing me to the side, behind the curtain.

  “Emily,” Kanye shouts.

  What is he doing?

  He runs up the stairs two at a time. I walk out from behind the curtain to the bottom of the steps and hear him yell through the house again.

  “Emily!” His voice is panicked and my heart hurts thinking Kanye is scared.

  “Kanye!”

  I hear him running and then he appears at the top of the landing breathing heavily.

  His face is pale and his eyes are wild. “Fuck,” Kanye says as he shakes his head and thumps down on his ass at the top of the steps. He drops his head into his hands, and after a moment, his booming voice echoes through the house. “Fuuuuck!”

  He looks up at me, places his right hand over his heart and says with a tremble in his voice, “Please, Emmy, please pick up when I call you, first time. Those seconds, minutes are a million years to me. And a whole lot of fucked-up shit goes through my mind in that time.”

  Straight away, I pull the phone from my jeans pocket and look down at the screen. Twenty-two missed calls. My heart drops.

  “I’m so sorry. I fell asleep and didn’t hear the phone.”

  I look up to Kanye and he’s staring down at me. He stands and walks down the stairs.

  I take a few steps back when he reaches the bottom and I notice the terror and sadness is gone, replaced by softness and the Kanye I fell in love with.

  He reaches out and gently pushes my hair behind my ear. This time I don’t flinch away. This time it feels somewhat natural and nice. Almost as though time turned back five years and I’m standing here in front of the man who just made love to me last night and we’re saying goodbye to each other for the day, to head off to work.

  “Still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re breathtaking, Emmy. Not a day went by I didn’t beg God to see your face, just one more time.”

  And just like that, memories invade my mind. Many men’s hands, angry faces, hateful words. Worthless, Used, Whore.

  I step back out of Kanye’s reach and his hand falls away and back to his side. His face slips back into sadness, but I can still see the determination in his eyes. Doesn’t he realize my actions are the ones hurting him? Is he so blind by what he wants, he’s missing the moments where I hurt him?

  “I missed you, too,” I admit.

  Kanye’s eyes flare to life.

  “But now it’s time we both move on. Things have changed. You need to find someone else who you can have a life with, Kanye.”

  Kanye shakes his head and his jaw ticks. “I already told you, Emmy. That’s not happening. There is only ever going to be a me and you.”

  I growl. He’s so frustrating. “Kanye, there is no us when I don’t want you.” I send that blow thinking it’s going to affect him, but he doesn’t react at all. Nothing in his strong-willed eyes changes.

  “One day, one of us is going to move on, Kanye, whether you like it or not.”

  I need him to before my weak mind and body gives in to the man I love. Eventually, he will see how used and disgusting I am. Then I will be completely destroyed when he leaves me of his own free will. No one wants to exist in the dark when they can live in the light of day.

  Kanye narrows his eyes at me.

  “I'm warning you now, Emmy, if another guy comes onto the scene, I'm going to fuck him up. You try and push me away by using another man and I will be on your ass twenty-four fucking seven, making sure all the assholes in this town know you’re mine. Whether you want to be or not.”

  With those words, he leaves the house, slamming the door behind him. Leaving me standing in the wake of his heavy words. That’s something I would never do. Kanye will forever be the only man I will ever love or ever want to have in my life.

  But I can’t be selfish. I can do this. Endure more pain to save him. I’m hurting him, but I’m saving him from realizing the girl he loved so long ago is a ruined piece of flesh which can’t be fixed or saved.

  ***

  After Kanye left, I clean the house. There is dust everywhere. Everything I touch leaves my fingerprints behind. Jake wasn’t kidding when he said Kanye was in Colombia for the past four years looking for me. I glance around and see how this home has been neglected and is now only a house.

  Starting in the kitchen, I move systematically on to each room, one after the other. I leave the master bedroom until last. I spot the play, necklace and rose on the ground where I left them when I ran out to see who was at the front door. Picking them up, I clean off my dresser, place the rose back between the pages, and put them on top of the dresser where I will always be able to see them. I put the beautiful necklace around my neck; it fits perfectly.

  When I finish cleaning, I’m hot and sweaty. I jump in the shower and wash away the sweat, as well as the day’s ugliness. If only it was that easy to wash away the filthy parts of me. I long ago realized burning my skin with hot water doesn’t wash the evil off.

  After my shower, I cook up some chicken and vegetables I found in the freezer. I checked the dates to make sure they haven’t been there for four years. But it appears Kanye stocked the fridge and cupboards before he moved out. Sitting at the big table on my own, I can’t help but feel alone. I look around at the big house and the silence is deafening. If I try hard enough, I can hear the laughter of children who should have been, vibrating around this family home.

  The laughter of my friends, from the collection, floats through my mind. I do miss them, sort of. Being near them always reminded me of where we were and why we were there. Today, I’ve found myself forgetting where I’ve been for t
he past five years, but only for mere seconds. However short those seconds may be, they are still moments of peace. A feeling of calmness my soul craves.

  Chewing my chicken, I look into the kitchen and a memory slams into my mind. One that has heat hitting me right between the legs. Which surprises me, I thought my body would reject these thoughts and emotions. But instead my thighs rub together and I’m yearning to have the same connection again.

  Walking into the kitchen, I find Kanye cooking over the stove. He’s shirtless with just a pair of board shorts on. His broad, smooth back is my second favorite body part on Kanye. I imagine scratching my nails down his back as he enters me and makes me feel the delicious pleasure of being full of him.

  He turns around and sees me staring at him. His eyebrow quirks up in question and then quickly his stare turns heated as he realizes what I’m thinking about. He drops the tongs to the side and I watch as he turns the food off.

  He walks around the bench, grinning at me.

  “Something you need, Emmy?”

  He wants me to ask, and soon I know he’ll be making me beg for it.

  “I want you to take me over the bench, from behind.”

  I’m not shy in asking for what I want. I used to be when we first moved out together. It took a lot of stuttering and embarrassing moments for me to tell Kanye what I wanted. Kanye wouldn’t give it to me otherwise; he loves it, no, gets off on it when I’m forward with him. With his constant praise of my body and his reassurance of his love for me, I moved past my insecurities a long time ago.

  Kanye smiles big and licks his lips. “You got it, baby. Strip and bend over the bench.”

  I do as he says. The tingle between my legs growing with every piece of clothing I remove.

  Kanye watches me, his heated, greedy stare running over my body. I watch as he clenches his fingers to stop himself from ripping the clothes from my body. It’s happened before and I loved it, but Kanye loves the control that comes with sex and I don’t care that I have to give up my power to him because I know his first priority is always me.

  Naked, and wet between my legs, I walk over to the bench and bend my body over the top. I’m on my tippy toes, but the height is perfect. I grab hold of the other side of the bench and wait for the moment to come when I know Kanye will show me nothing less than euphoria.

  I turn my head to the left and watch as he discards his shorts and he’s left naked and beautiful. His cock is hard and his balls swollen. My hand itches to grab his balls and swirl them around in my hands.

  Kanye comes up behind me and grasps my waist. His fingers are big and warm. He lifts my feet off the ground and spreads my legs. He pushes me further up on the bench until most of my body is lying flat on the counter. My pussy’s on the edge and one leg is bent with Kanye holding the other straight out in the air. I can feel the cool air hit my sensitive folds and I moan at the thought of what will happen next.

  Kanye bends, his front to my back. He drops kisses down my spine while his erection pushes into my wet folds. He circles his hips and pushes in with a small amount of pressure, before pulling back out. I whine, wanting him to go all the way inside me, hard.

  I feel the rumble of a laugh through his front to my back. “Kanye,” I breathe out, “no games this time, please. I want you inside me. Now.”

  “Okay, baby, no games this time, but I want you to go off twice, so first let me play a little.”

  And with those words, Kanye is down on the ground and his mouth is on me. Sucking, licking. Oh, God. I grip the edge of the bench tightly and push down. Kanye groans and cups my ass in his hands and pulls me deeper into his mouth. With shaking legs and sweat building behind my knees, my pussy contracts. A cry escapes my lips as my orgasm holds me prisoner for the sweetest seconds of my life.

  My breathing heavy, the world comes back into focus. And then, I have my wish. Kanye thrusts into me from behind. I scream out in ecstasy. He drives into me hard, again and again. I love it. I moan loudly as my heart races and heat radiates up my legs.

  “Fuck. I love being inside you, Emmy,” Kanye growls between thrusts. “Tight. Wet. Fucking heaven, baby.”

  I gasp as my second orgasm slams into me. My whole body explodes like tiny fireworks all over my skin. Kanye thrusts come harder and faster, and then with a few grunts and a long groan, I know he just rode out his orgasm with mine.

  I jump when I hear the cell ringing. I left it on the table so I could see it and hear it when Kanye called again. Hearing him scared today was both unusual and heart breaking. I don’t ever want to do that to him again.

  I examine the screen and see a picture of Kanye and me at a family barbecue. I’m sitting on his lap wrapped up in his arms and we’re smiling happily up at the camera. God, what I would give to go back to that moment.

  Realizing I’ve been distracted by the photo, I hastily try and answer. My fingers fumble trying to pick up the call. Finally, I’m able to answer by swiping upwards. I hear my name and I place the phone to my ear.

  “Hi,” I say quickly.

  “Emmy.” Kanye says my name and I can hear the anguish of our distance in his voice. I wrap my fingers around my glass orb necklace and close my eyes tightly. It’s so painful to hear his desperation and feel my own at the same time.

  There is silence for a long moment before Kanye speaks.

  “For now, I won’t push you for conversation. We’ll work up to that. Thank you for picking up, baby. Until tomorrow. Night, Emmy.”

  Kanye doesn’t hang up. I do it quickly. A frantic need to beg him to come over is on the tip of my tongue. I blink away one stray tear of loneliness and stare down at the device. I remember smart phones, but I haven’t used one for five years and they’re a hell of a lot thinner and longer.

  I throw my food away, having lost my appetite after speaking to Kanye. I enter the bedroom and change into some pajamas. I look down at myself and see the white cotton shorts and white singlet. Something I use to wear to bed all the time, half a decade ago.

  I walk over to the bed and just stare at it. So many memories in this bed, wonderful, loving memories. I pull the covers back and slide under the comforter. It feels massive. I don’t remember ever feeling that before. But back then, I wasn’t sleeping alone. I wish I felt his presence with me. He was only here last night, yet I feel nothing, just a lot of lonely space around me.

  Pulling the pillow from his side of the bed, I put it to my nose. It smells of shaving cream. Kanye must have shaved last night. I sigh as contentment slowly flows through my body from having his familiar scent near me.

  I hug the pillow to me and remember my thoughts from downstairs. The sex in the kitchen wasn’t anything unusual for us. Any opportunity to have sex, Kanye and I would take it. Normal life was just that, normal. We laughed, worked, and visited our family. But sex when we joined, it connected us on another level. Looking into each other’s eyes while we gave pleasure to the other, our eyes spoke for us, made promises we both knew the other would keep forever.

  I want that life back. Anxiety floods me at having it all, but it being ripped away once again. But this time, it’s taken away because of me, because he sees just how ugly my heart and soul has become.

  Those moments when men stole pieces of me are forever burned into my memory. I did give up fighting though. A small part of me hates myself because I gave up. Over time, I realized there was only so much fight in me. When I stopped fighting, the men would only use me to get off. It was easier to walk in and spread my legs. When I fought, they fought me back, harder. It excited them. So I stopped. I stopped giving them what they were coming to the parties for.

  Donovan was the only man to hurt me when I didn’t fight him in the first place. He never tired of trying to pull a reaction from me. He always came with renewed anger for me, something that always surprised me since I hadn’t seen him for month’s in-between. I prayed for the day he would go one-step too far and kill me. But he was obsessed with me, so he never let it go that far. U
nfortunately.

  My body freezes. Where is Donovan? Does he know I’ve been rescued? My breathing escalates and I look around the room disorderly. Has he realized he will never see me again? My sight blurs and my head feels light. I remind myself. Inhale, Exhale, Inhale, Exhale. My heart calms and I begin to settle my panic. I hope he knows I’m gone. I hope it pulls apart his well-controlled world. He will have to find someone— I catch myself on that thought. He will have to find someone else to take his anger out on. No! I can’t let someone else go through what I did. I can’t let him do that. I need to stop him. For good this time. But how do I find him? There’s only one person I know who might help me and have the connections to find Donovan.

  I look at the clock and see its eleven pm. It’s late, but I’m still going to try and call. I pick up my new cell phone and dial the number which had been repeated to me for years.

  “If you ever escape and need help, call me on this number, 651-438-8604.”

  I place the phone to my ear and listen to the ringing tone. Finally, it clicks off and the person I’m searching for says a cautious, “Hello.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kanye

  I’m pacing up and down Dom’s living room. I stop to glance around every few minutes, taking in the black furniture with a massive TV; it’s a typical bachelor pad. I start pacing again. I’m coming out of my skin. Emmy’s in our house. She’s in our town. She was within touching distance today. Three times I’ve had to walk away from her since she’s been back. Leaving her and our home today, nearly goddamn killed me. I felt my knees try to lock me in place while walking down the porch stairs, but I kept going. I kept walking away from my Emmy while my whole body begged me to stop and turn around.

  I stop pacing and decide to try and get some sleep. Dom’s away for three months on a job in Louisville. Dom is another friend who worked his ass off to find Emily. He’s undercover at the moment, so I can’t tell him I’m actually staying here, but I know he wouldn’t care. We’ve all been friends since grade school. We aren’t just friends; we’re brothers. All of us, Jake, Dom, Nick and I. They had my back and put their lives on hold to help me find Emily. I’ll never be able to repay them.