by Barefoot, LW
“You. Evan. Only you,” I pant.
If he hadn’t hurt me, I would have screamed ‘master’ and I wouldn’t have been referring to Evan.
As soon his name falls out of my mouth, he growls. Fucking me and making me doubt the person I’ve become.
My body submits to Evan, my mind belongs to someone else. ‘Mission accomplished, Master,’ I think to myself. Tears run down my throat as I quietly choke on them. Ice cold eyes smile at me in anticipation behind a black leather mask as his ghost swims in my vision. ‘I became what you wanted,’ I mentally offer him. His sculpture is now complete.
Evan kisses over the bite mark on my shoulder. We stay together with tangled sweaty limbs. He cradles my head against his chest and strokes my hair. I feel his teeth marks, lifting my fingers to run over the indentions.
I fall asleep with Evan’s warm lips on my skin and a voice that promises to meet me in my dreams to pay for my transgressions.
‘My precious little whore, I’m going to find you. Did you really think I would ever let you go?’
Harper
I free fall in a dizzying rush. Propelled towards the never-ending journey I travel every single night. Endless darkness wraps around me and consumes all understanding.
I’m lost until I hear his voice calling to me. Panic and unyielding fear spreads through me like wildfire as his footsteps approach. The clanking of his metal belt sounds in alarm. It’s a familiar song I never want to hear again, but it gets louder with each heavy footfall.
I crash at his feet and I will my heart to stop beating. My fingers brush across canvas and I feel his wretched fingers touching my skin. I cover my ears and shut my eyes, but it’s no use. I feel him on my skin as his fingertips scratch like sandpaper across my throat. My lungs convulse.
‘My love. My muse. Crawl to me, I’m the only one that can release you.’
I’m trapped here with him. Pitch black with inky threads slither into me as his featherlight touch moves across my jaw.
‘Stop toying with me and open your filthy mouth.’
I wail trying to climb away from him. But his hold is a vice grip and he pulls me back under.
‘I’m going to fuck you until you love it. Until you beg me for more.’
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
Don’t look at his face. Don’t look in his eyes.
‘How flawed do I find you? How can I sculpt you to be the perfect cock-sucking slut you need to become to keep breathing?’
My vocal cords follow my brain’s command to work, begging my lungs to cooperate. Just like every night before now, I struggle. But somehow tonight is worse. It feels different because it lasts too long. I continue to claw my way to the surface, praying for redeeming rays of sunlight. It doesn’t matter how much I fight, I’m stuck, drowning. That fucking belt chatters in his swinging grasp and I wait for the sound of it dropping on the ground or the tickle of a feather that makes me hate every thing that has them.
I scream because I have always been able to wake up before it gets to this point. His breath is burning ashes and terrible hell. I can hear his chest pumping with excitement and desire. The sound of his zipper comes undone and the Sculptor’s perfect face now stares right through to my soul.
As he reaches for me, I’m ripped away from him. I tumble and land in a pool of ice. The cold seeps into my pores and I feel its cruel kindness deep in my bones. Light blinds me and warm tears run down my face. I welcome their heat.
Evan
I’m completely doomed. My selfish actions are getting me into trouble and I don’t possess the power to avoid the consequences. Or worse, to not have Harper suffer. But it might be too late.
When we first landed from Chicago, fear sucker punched me at the sight of my parent’s car, and whether or not they saw Harper. I thought I had gotten away with keeping her out of harm’s way. The only threat that will come to her is through my family, not the notorious criminal from Harper’s past. The same monster who no doubt makes her shiver while she sleeps against my chest. The subtle perfection of her long lashes flicker against alabaster cheeks and the most sinful mouth I’ve ever seen. I hate that it trembles in fear. I can feel her tense and the strain is apparent in the faint light before dawn.
I can’t fall asleep while she’s like this. I wonder if she’s like this every time she closes her eyes. In one solitary day, I found her staring at my disgusting fiancée and my mother. Only to find her later wrapped up in my bastard brother’s arms, with his charming smile, and his lips hovering too close to her ear. Grayson’s the last face you see before you’re fed to the alligators after you’ve crossed a Hawthorne, or more specifically, our father, Joe Hawthorne. The ruthless prick watched Harper and I with careful calculation, as did two of my least favorite women in existence.
The people life dictated I should love and be loved by are the exact people who have dread sinking heavy in the pit of my gut.
Harper tenses again, pulling me away from my depressing thoughts. A low whimper escapes her lips. I swear I would give anything to fight off what forces her to make those sounds.
She jerks hard and it scares the hell out of me, but it doesn’t wake her up. She tries to curl herself into a ball as she starts shaking all over. A deep mulling sound drags out from her chest and her skin is covered with goosebumps and sweat.
Agonizing minutes tick away as I watch her struggle. I do everything I can think of to wake her up. Over and over her name escapes my lips like a prayer. Soft at first until I shake her and yell the original name Jamie told me to never utter. A hideous, sickening scream escapes past her perfect lips and I have no other choice. Her heart pounds as if it too wants out of the body it’s trapped in.
I’m forced to hit her. Honest to God hit her. And it doesn’t even matter. She unravels in my arms and I’m completely powerless. I know I’m responsible for this spinning out of control.
Brad comes crashing through the bedroom door followed by Jamie. I hold her up as I look to them.
“How can I fix this?” I yell, matching the intensity of Harper’s screams.
I hold her up like a broken doll she resembles. She slips away from me even in sleep.
Jamie runs to the bathtub and turns the water on. He yells for Brad to get ice from downstairs. Jamie goes to take Harper from my arms and I threaten to kill him. I’m not letting go of her.
Moments, maybe hours later, Brad dumps a large bucket of ice in Harper’s beloved bathtub. I move her to the bathroom. She’s slippery, drenched in sweat, muscles strung tight in the depths of her nightmare. Small fists fight against me in earnest, eyes clamped shut.
Jamie tries to reason with me that he knows what’s best for her. That she needs to anchor to something familiar, someone she’s used to. But there’s a ringing in my ears Harper put there with her horrifying wails. And I’ll be damned if he gets his hands on her when she’s like this without a stitch of clothing on.
The nightmare takes a turn for the worse. Another scream rips from her lungs. She moans in agony, drawing her hands over her scars. Head shaking back and forth, like she begs for the torture to stop. Her body bows, as if I were the one who plunged the knife in her and it happens all over again. It’s all I can do to get her out of my arms. I have to wake her up.
I wasn’t going to place her in the ice cold bath, but I don’t have any other choice. Through the haze of panic and desperation, both Jamie and Brad plead with me to make this stop. Every ounce of dominance I possess forces me to place her in the tub and push her head under. It’s the only way to bring her back. As icy water burns my skin, my heart lurches for her.
We watch as her mouth opens in what was bound to be another bloodcurdling scream. Foreign eyes fly open in shock, her mouth opening to draw another breath. Her already pale skin is now ashen. She sucks in a mouthful of cold water, blocking the sound I never want to hear again for as long as I live.
I place my arm under her shoulders and bring her upper body out of the water. Water goes
everywhere as she coughs. Rufus whines and shakes, much like Harper. She quickly covers herself, spitting out the water and shivering. Eyes adverted from all of us. Head down in shame and confusion.
I pull the plug on the bath and instantly start the hot water. I throw a glare at the two men standing behind me and watching my every move. I don’t even have to tell them to leave. Brad has to grab Jamie by the elbow to pull him away. I will express my appreciation to them later.
Right now I needed to fix her. Bring her back. The gorgeous girl I know is underneath all the scar tissue, past all the angst and abandonment.
Harper
It’s one of the worst nightmares I have had yet, and for the first time, I haven’t been able to wake myself up. No amount of therapy helped when I needed it the most.
The stress of the last few weeks are wreaking havoc on me. I shift through the memories of last night, leading up to the dream.
Evan runs hot water up and over my head as I absently stare at the towel rack. I don’t want to turn around and face the look in his eyes. Seeing his mask of horror when his hand pressed me down in the freezing water will forever be carved into my mind. I don’t ever want to witness that again. Somehow the bolt that locked away my demons has been broken and now they’re pouring out of me.
The chill from the ice still lingers. For the second time in a matter of hours, we both soak in a hot bath. The first one was out of necessity, this one for comfort. Evan’s hands massage shampoo through my hair and works out the tension set in at the base of my skull.
This is the most intimate act to me. He’s trying to be affectionate and it’s freaking me out. It’s mixing with the fear of coming face to face with the Sculptor again. His face lingering over me with his hands around my throat and pouring his poisonous words into my vulnerable ears. Thankfully his lips didn’t touch mine.
It would make more sense had Evan dumped me in the ice, got dressed, and never looked back. But not this. Not him continuing this farce of taking care of me. Somewhere deep inside of me feels like he’s the one who threw me down to those dark depths in the first place. I’m wrong, because I need to be accountable.
I lean back as he motions for me to let him rinse the shampoo.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that,” I choke out.
He’s probably forever traumatized. He reaches for the conditioner and squirts some out in his palms.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says as he works the creamy substance through the ends of my hair.
“Evan, I can’t do this anymore.”
My throat feels raw, but he needs to hear the truth. Because I don’t mean won’t, I literally can’t.
He rinses the conditioner and tries to work the water out of the ends.
“Good, because after tonight, I can’t either.”
Relief and disappointment flood through me.
I’m too much of a disaster. An absolute tsunami. Nothing but devastation and destruction lay in my wake. That’s why I tried to warn him I wasn’t worth his time, because I’m not worth anyone’s.
I nod my wet head and go to stand up, but he pulls me back against him. He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck.
“Get dressed, Harper. You’re coming with me.”
“I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will. Come on, I’ll help you pack.”
He stands and wraps a towel around his waist. His tan skin a stunning contrast to the white material. He holds out his hand for me. I step cautiously to him and take the towel he offers.
“What am I packing a bag for?”
“We’re getting out of the city before Mardi Gras kicks off. The sudden influx of people and traffic are going to make getting to you much harder. I want you near me, the rest we’ll figure out.”
“Who was the blond you were with yesterday?” I ask without thought.
He stops in his tracks and turns around. A warning radiates from his emerald depths.
“Don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to know the answers to,” he snaps.
“I’m not going with you unless you tell me.”
I cross my arms over my chest, holding the towel tighter as I prepare for the answer I’m no longer sure I want to know.
“She’s my fiancée, Harper.”
What the fuck is wrong with this guy? The things we did last night were so awful, considering he’s with someone else. It danced across my mind, but I didn’t want to think about it too hard. Denial was the route I had taken. Denial was a safe lie I told myself to justify our intimacy. I knew we weren’t exclusive, but putting a ring on another woman’s finger crosses the line, and I’m not going to nod my head and go along with whatever he wants.
I let out a laugh. And then I can’t stop. My life is a sick joke, filled to bursting with selfish assholes. They take, take, and take. I’m tired of giving.
“Leave,” I mutter, but he doesn’t move.
He weighs his options, but he has none where I’m concerned. I should have scared him off with my nightmare alone. I’m confused why he’s still here to begin with.
I have to give it to him for not lying to me about it. It’s one of the things I like most about him. He’s forward and direct.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. Please just go,” I exclaim, pushing out whatever anger I can with those words, but I hear the disappointment behind them.
He doesn’t say anything as he stalks toward me in the spacious bathroom that’s no longer big enough. I sidestep him to avoid him touching me. I can’t think straight when his hands are on me. When he touches me, I cave, and I can’t let that happen.
He’s so much taller than I am, I have to take three steps to his one. My back presses against the wall to get out of his way. I learned the hard way how much he loves a good chase. He lifts his hand to me and I lose it and slap it away from me.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I spit.
“You can’t speak to me like that, Harper. I own you.”
His fingers dig in my cheeks as he cups my face in his hand. He pulls me forcefully from the wall and makes me walk to the bedroom. He throws the door open to my closet and pulls out one of my suitcases. Laying it on the bed, he starts pulling clothes out of my closet. Tossing garments in with the hangers still attached.
“Have you lost your mind? I’m not going. I’m done with you. Stop touching my things. I need you to get out and leave me alone.”
He stops with a deadly look in his eyes, he spits, “Shut up, Harper. You’re starting to push me too far.”
It feels exactly as it sounded. Harsh and cruel.
Why would he want me to go with him, anyway? He’s engaged to someone else.
He starts opening drawers and picking up pieces of lingerie and placing them in the suitcase. Those intimate scraps I wanted him to see, wished for him to tear them to shreds off my skin, but not this.
“I’m not going to let you push me around, Evan. I’ve had enough. Get the fuck out of my house.”
His hand comes to a close over my throat. He squeezes and never takes his eyes away from mine. I know that look and it scares the hell out of me because I’ve seen it one time too many.
“Don’t push me, Harper. You won’t like it. Now stop arguing and get dressed.”
He shoves me on the bed like he did the suitcase.
‘Don’t push your luck. Don’t mistake my control. I own you.’
Evan throws a dress at me, followed by undergarments, and I dress as he orders me to. I’ve danced this tragic dance before. I will never again go along with his wishes. I will figure out a way to get out of this. Jamie is downstairs and he won’t let this happen. I don’t care how close their friendship is, Jamie’s loyalties lie with me.
Evan watches me as I obey. I want to punch him in the face. I roughly towel dry my hair. As soon as I slip my boots on, I walk to exit my bedroom. He doesn’t try to stop me.
I rush downstairs and head to Jamie’s bedroom, until I see Ru’ and B
rad sitting on the couch. It’s the only part of the living room you can see until you reach the bottom of the stairs. Tom’s voice mixes with Jamie’s and that creeping panic unfurls through me.
They attempt to keep their voices down, but they are not doing that good of a job. They had to have heard everything that happened upstairs and my frantic footsteps heavy on the steps. I walk in the room and take in each of their expressions. Tom’s is the most troubling. I look to what he holds in his hand. A photo of long red hair, laid out across a floor. Tom flicks the photo out of view. He hands it to Evan, as he sets my suitcase on the floor. Evan studies the picture and then his eyes find mine.
He hands the photo back to Tom. His eyes soften from what they were earlier.
“Sit down,” Evan instructs.
I’m so pissed at the way this morning has turned out. It just keeps getting worse.
I sit on the sofa, but not because Evan told me to. Ru’ jumps up and snuggles next to me. Evan sits and pulls me to his side, but I push him away. I glare, not bothering with the pretense that we’re okay, everyone here knows the truth. Evan squeezes my shoulder. His fingers push the bite he left there last night, pointing out his fucked up claim on me. He’s getting his way. No matter what.
“Harper,” Tom says. “I’m sorry but I couldn’t let you find out from anyone else or see this when it gets leaked to the media.”
“Show me whatever it is you passed to Evan,” I demand.
Jamie, Brad, and Evan all start to protest showing me. Every one of them probably still recovering from similar results of what hides in the photo and from the look on Tom’s face he knows all about my little episode this morning.
“I have a feeling I’ve been in that same position as whoever is in that photo, so there’s no point in hiding it from me,” I explain. My voice steady, my nerves shot.