Surrender to Me (I Surrender Trilogy Book 2)

by James, Monica

“Okay, let me give you a clue,” he says arrogantly, and I hate his face more than I have ever hated anything in my life.

  “Every time you get closer to guessing the right answer, I’ll give you... an Orchid.”

  Orchid? What the fuck is he talking about?

  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks, and my world comes crashing down before me.

  It was Jasper, not him.

  Jasper was the one who sent me flowers every day for a month, so that means, Jasper was never mad at me. I gasp when the realization of what Harper has done really sinks in.

  Jasper sent me the only things that made me feel remotely better when I was dying inside, and now, it all makes sense. Now I know why Harper got so mad when he gave me the Roses, and I compared them to the purple Hyacinth’s. He hated that I loved those flowers better than his, because those flowers were never in fact from him, but from Jasper.

  How. Could. He. Do. This. To. Me!

  I turn to look at him with a glare that is dripping with venom.

  “There you go. She finally gets it,” Harper says sarcastically. “It was easy forging that lovesick puppy’s handwriting. After the amount of love letters and cards he sent with those flowers, and in the mail, I had his writing committed to memory. Those letters continued on for months and months.”

  I glower at him. “For months?”

  Harper nods, picking some invisible dirt from under his fingernail. “You would receive one every day, and in the end, it got beyond ridiculous. Ugh, seriously does the man have no pride? ‘I love you Ava. Please forgive me. You’re my world. I'm sorry, yadda yadda’. I needed him out of the picture, and you weren't going along with my plan, so I made things happen. I wrote that note because you’re that pathetic, I knew you'd accept my proposal.”

  “What did you do with his letters?” I ask, desperate to know how he hid this from me.

  Thinking back, I trusted him, and not once did I think he was capable of such callousness.

  “I shredded them at work of course. I had to get rid of the evidence. I thought it was fitting actually, shredding the only thing that would make you happy again. Shredding the letters, along with your heart, it was pure genius.”

  He shows no remorse for his actions, and actually looks happy retelling his devious ploy.

  I cover my hand over my mouth because I’m about to throw up, but I don't give him the satisfaction of seeing any tears, because I am not sad, I am fucking enraged.

  After all this time, after all the tears I shed over Jasper, Harper stood by knowing that Jasper still loved me. He never stopped.

  Jasper sent me flowers every day, trying to make amends, a fact Harper was well aware of. But he let me cry myself to sleep at night, not caring that my whole world was crumbling down around me.

  And Jasper sent me letters every day, letters I would have cherished, letters I would have read over and over happily, not like the one I believed him to write.

  Harper knew that that note was never written by Jasper’s hand, because it was written by him. This person, this asshole, standing in front of me, has twisted everything, making me believe otherwise.

  The fire burning in the pit of my stomach is about to boil over, and as I recollect everything Harper has just confessed, I can’t contain my anger any longer, and I fucking explode!

  Walking over to him, I slap him so hard, catching him off guard, and I am elated when I see his stunned expression, as he covers the cheek I just bitch slapped the hell out of.

  “You son of a bitch!” I yell, ready to wage war on the man who has ruined my life.

  I attack him, beating my tiny fists on his chest.

  “You sick twisted sack of shit!”

  I am pounding harder on his chest, and the feeling is euphoric, but it sadly doesn’t last long.

  He grabs my hands in one of his and squeezes hard. The pressure hurts, and brings tears to my eyes, but in this moment I am running on pure adrenaline.

  My hands are held prisoner within his, which he is squeezing tighter and tighter to stop them from flailing around. I need to hurt him, but sadly, he is not letting go of my hands anytime soon. But I’m resourceful and determined to wound him, so I think with my head, or should I say feet. Kicking him hard in the balls, has him letting go of my hands as he lets out a pained grunt, holding the parts I just severely injured.

  I then begin slapping him, with no preference to what I connect with. His face, jaw, chest, ear, wherever. Seriously in this moment I don’t care, just as long as I am hitting him, I am happy.

  When I make contact with his face, my ring slices across his cheek, and I pull away, high fiving myself when I notice I’ve drawn a slither of blood.

  That celebration however is short lived when he hisses out in pain, quickly placing his hand over his bleeding cheek.

  “You little bitch!” he screams, still slightly winded from my accurate kicking.

  However, he surprises me as he slaps me hard across the cheek once, then twice, and the sound unsettles my brain. Staggering backwards because his strike has knocked the wind out of my sails, I am horror-struck that he would hit me, but what he does next, makes his strike look like a lovers caress.

  He picks me up by my dress lapels, and I hear something rip, but that’s the least of my concerns because before I can scream for help, he tosses me into a huge brass mirror, which is hanging on the opposite wall.

  Banging my head on impact, the sound echoes in my ears as the mirror shatters around me. The hum is almost deafening, and I suddenly feel nauseous as I wheeze out a breath and slide down the plaster, shards of glass cutting into my upper body and head. Crumbling into a heap on the carpet, I am holding onto my ribs as I think they are broken because it hurts to breathe. I know I have shards of glass imbedded in my entire body, and as I try and straighten out my spine, I cry out in agony.

  But the worse pain I have ever felt is coming from inside my skull. If I was a Walt Disney cartoon character, I would definitely have little birdies flying around my head right now.

  I am dazed, stunned and I think I might be concussed, as I am seeing double. But my vision clears as I witness Harper storming over to me, fists clenched.

  Cowering and covering my face with trembling hands, I wait for a blow to come. And I know that blow is going to knock me out cold.

  But it doesn't come, because I hear a voice that is my salvation. Even though that voice is laced with pure malice and scares me, I embrace the sound of it.

  “You motherfucker! I’m going to...” Jasper takes a steadying breath before he snarls, “fucking kill you!”

  Jasper’s roar hurts my head, and I wince, holding my wavering hand to my brow. I pull my hand away from my forehead which is sticky and wet. Have I been crying?

  Looking at my palm, I realize it’s not clear, but in fact, it is red.

  What the hell?

  My gaze sweeps down my body, and the front of my dress is torn wide open. In horror, I quickly wipe my hand over my face and head, and it comes away with more blood. I can feel flecks of glass and brass cemented into my head, and then I begin to panic.

  I look over at Jasper for reassurance that I’m not dying because my head, God my head hurts, and everything is so hazy. And there is so much blood running down my face and into my eyes, surely I am going to bleed out.

  Jasper looks sweaty and dirty, and his shirt is untucked out of his pants. His eyes are wide and incensed, and as he takes in my dishevelled form, he curls up his sinful bow lips, scowling when I whimper in pain.

  He gives me one last look, and the rage which is swimming in his crazed eyes scare me. He then turns slowly and sinisterly, and charges into Harper.

  Harper is caught off balance because of the force, and tumbles to the floor with Jasper on top of him. Jasper pins Harper with both knees and then commences punching Harper once, then twice in the face, and the blows he is delivering are rattling the walls.

  Harper is taller than Jasper, so he somehow manages to push him off, an
d they both quickly get to their feet. The look on both their faces is murderous, and I attempt to stand, wanting to aid Jasper in any way that I can.

  Putting my weight on one leg, I cry out as the pain is excruciating and I tumble to the floor. My cry distracts Jasper as he looks my way, and Harper uses this to his advantage as he charges towards him. Jasper is prepared however, and crouches low while delivering an uppercut to Harper’s jaw. Harper’s head snaps back, and he stumbles backwards, dazed. Jasper then delivers a quick right hook, and then follows with a left, which totally disorientates Harper who shakes his head.

  Jasper looks over at me to make certain I'm okay, and Harper catches Jasper off guard by jabbing him in the eye and then the lip. Jasper sways, shaking his head to clear it, and I cry out, willing my legs move.

  “Stop!” I yell, which sends a pain shooting through my skull.

  What is wrong with me? This relentless throbbing is the worse pain I have ever experience before, but I need to get over it, because I need to get to Jasper.

  I attempt to crawl, but crumble not two feet from where I started. This is so frustrating. Why can’t I move my legs?

  Jasper’s lip is bleeding and blood is dripping onto his once white shirt, but he doesn't stop focusing on Harper, as both boys are stalking one another, doing a circular dance of who can catch whom first.

  Harper spits out blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I fucked your little whore and she loved it!” Harper sneers, taunting Jasper.

  A war cry rips out of Jasper’s throat, and he dives into Harper’s middle, head first, which sends them both crashing onto the floor. Jasper comes out on top, and he begins delivering punch after punch, after punch, after punch.

  Harper tries to kick him off, but Jasper is like a crazed man, and he won't stop hitting him. And I know I need to stop Jasper before he kills Harper.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I crawl towards him, low on my tummy, biting back the pain that is radiating throughout my entire body.

  The noise of Jasper’s fists pounding into Harper’s face is sickening, and I crawl faster as Harper is lying motionless under Jasper’s ruthless fists.

  Hot sticky blood is pouring into my eyes, clouding my vision, but I am determined to get to him. When I finally reach him, I stretch out and put my shaky hand on his shoulder. “Jasper. Stop.”

  But he ignores me like I haven't spoken.

  “Jasper, enough,” I say a little louder to be heard over Jasper’s brutal fists.

  But to no prevail.

  Jasper is pounding into Harper’s face, and I can hear bone crunching under the impact. I need him to listen to me, and there is only one way I can.

  Tightening my hold on his shoulder, I whisper, “Jasper... I love you. Please stop. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  I will say it a million times if I have to.

  Finally he goes slack under my hands and stops punching Harper, who looks to be dead. Thankfully his chest is rising, but I have no doubt he’ll need to go to the hospital.

  As Jasper turns to me, dazed and in disarray, I slump into a relieved heap that he stopped.

  His face, arms, shirt, hair... everything is covered in blood. The reality of the situation kicks in, and I suddenly need to be sick. I try and sit up but I can’t, so supporting myself on my palms, I slouch into a semi sitting position and dry heave, but nothing comes up as my stomach is in knots. And then the tears I have been holding back break free.

  “Ava, baby...look at me. There is so much blood. Where are you hurt?” Jasper asks, frantically brushing my hair off my face, his hands trembling.

  His eyes and hands are quickly assessing every part of me, and his profound concern makes me cry harder.

  He loves me. After all this time, all these endless seconds of believing he'd forgotten me, he really loved me.

  His hands go to the back of my head, and I wince in pain, as he brushes over a lump that feels like the size of a basketball. When he pulls his hands away and they are covered in fresh blood, my blood, his eyes become heated and anxious.

  “What happened?” he says softly, trying to calm me. Which is ironic seeing as his soft tone doesn't match his hard, blood soaked exterior.

  When I don’t answer him, he questions again gently, “What happened?”

  His blue eyes are searching mine, while stroking my cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away my falling tears.

  “My.. b..b..back..” I stutter. “It h..hurts.” It even pains me to get those minimal words out.

  Jasper looks behind me, and hisses out a breath. He pulls back and looks at me, his cerulean eyes filled with fear.

  “You’re going to be fine, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you. I failed you once, I will never fail you again. I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me,” he says, as tears spill over his cheeks.

  His words comfort me, and I know by the look on his face that something is not right. Judging by the pulling sensation I can feel in my lumber, I think I may have a piece of glass wedged in there. That might explain why I have no feelings in my legs. Or it could just mean my spine has taken a nasty beating.

  Suddenly I can't speak or think. Everything that has happened comes crashing down around me, and I begin hyperventilating. My heart is racing so quickly, I am sure it's about to burst right out of my chest. And to match my racing heart, there is a high pitch squealing in my ears, blocking out any far-off noise. I can’t see, hear, feel or taste.

  I'm going to die, I'm certain of it.

  I then feel myself moving, but I am unaware of where I am, or where I am going. I am being wrapped up in a set of strong arms, and my face is pressed against a warm surface that smells like home.

  The blood is whooshing through my ears, running up into my brain, and I scream because the pressure in my head is unbearable. I feel a warm breath blow across my bare shoulder and down my back, and as a pressure around me tightens, I feel a steady heartbeat beating against my frantic one.

  Again all these factors ease me somewhat, but it's an echoed voice that provides me with most reassurance. That voice, that deep familiar voice, is pulling me out of my black void. It is my tether to remaining conscious and sane.

  I try to focus on that voice, to drag me out of the abyss, before I am lost forever.

  “When I saw you crying on that balcony, I felt your pain and all I wanted was to wipe away your tears, and make the ache go away. The way you fit in my arms when I hugged you, it was perfect. You surprised me by turning into me, and you needed me. I felt guilty because I was enjoying the moment so much, but having you in my arms felt so right. I was taking everything in. Your smell. The tiny breaths you took, and the way you clung to me like I could make everything better. I felt needed and I've never felt that way before. I was addicted to you from then on.”

  All this sounds familiar.

  This sounds like my life.

  “When I got to know you, you made me feel alive. You made me want to be a better person because you, you are my everything. Your blushing, your little intakes of breath when you see me, your clumsiness when I am around you. All the things you do because of me make me feel like I am ten feet tall. And they show me you love me as much as I love you.”

  My heart begins to decelerate and my breathing slows down, I can hear him clearer now, as the noise in my ears is fading.

  “The night we first made love, I never knew it could be that way between two people. Your smell. Your taste. Your feel. Everything. You were made for me. And I knew from that day forward, I would never want anyone other than you.”

  I am starting to remember now.

  I'm Ava Thompson. And the person talking to me is my cerulean eyed angel.

  “When you told me you loved me, with your big brown eyes searching mine, I thought I knew what loving you felt like. But I will never forget the day you made me feel like I was worth something, when I’ve felt like nothing my whole life. You make me matter Ava. You're my reason to breathe
.”

  I can hear Jasper clearly now, as my breathing, my heart, my body is in sync with his. He is levelling me with his words.

  But I still can't move.

  “I love you Ava. Come back to me. Baby, please come back to me.”

  Chapter 27

  Ditto

  I sit upright, startled by a noise. My hair is sticking to my damp forehead, and there is a sharp, stabbing pain radiating all over my body.

  No jokes, I feel like I have been run over. Twice.

  Taking deep rapid breaths, I dart my eyes around the darkened room, wondering where I am, and I think back to the last memory I have.

  Jasper.

  The last thing I remember is the sickening sounds of Jasper’s fists punching Harper over and over.

  I gasp.

  Harper.

  Oh my God. Harper. He is the reason behind my pain.

  Scampering up the bed, the headboard knocks into my back (which hurts like a bitch!), and stops my retreat. Is he here? Is this where I am?

  Letting out a tiny cry, I am blinded by a bright light, and I close my eyes tight, hoping this is all a dream. Sadly, the pain is a reminder that I am very much awake.

  “Sssh, Ava, sssh, it's me. It’s okay baby. It’s only me.”

  Jasper.

  His voice is the sweetest sound one could hope to hear, after being beaten down by one’s crazy, sociopathic ex.

  I slowly open my eyes, and see the face of my saviour sitting on the edge of the bed beside me. His hair is sticking up rebelliously, and he looks beat. Thankfully, he isn’t covered in blood like he was when I remember seeing him last. His eyes are hollowed, and one is swollen and purple, which matches his puffy, bruised lip. He has grazes marring his beautiful face and I frown, hating to see him in such a way.

  With shaky fingers, I reach out to stroke his wounds.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  My voice sounds hoarse and broken, and I wonder what the rest of me looks like.

  He leans into my caress and exhales a relieved breath. “I'm fine now that you're awake. You scared me,” he replies as he turns his lips into my palm, kissing it lightly, before pulling away.