No less than twenty incisions marred my body after that first day. The helplessness, desperation, and fear of how I’d hide them from the people I loved struck deep. But I knew I would. I knew I would find a way to keep them hidden from sight no matter what.
Being young, I didn’t know how I’d stop the bleeding either. Eli threw a towel at me after he was done wiping his knife on it, and told me to clean myself up. That was it. No offers of help, not that I would have willingly let him touch me after that anyway. But there was nothing. Just clean yourself up, then he left, and I was finally alone.
The towel may have been a plush, fluffy one, but it abraded my ruined skin like sandpaper. The stinging pain it caused everywhere I gently wiped, brought fresh tears to my eyes, which meant it took far longer than Eli expected for me to make myself what he called presentable again. He had dragged me out of the bathroom by my hair telling me I was taking too long, that someone was going to get suspicious if I didn’t hurry, and I couldn’t help the twinge of hope I felt that someone would indeed come looking for me. That didn’t happen though, and it never would. No one found out about what he did to me, ever. Not until now.
In the darkness there was one thing I was grateful for. I was grateful he didn’t take my innocence. Not that day, or any day after. There were times when I thought he would. Times he couldn’t hide his excitement. He was turned on by the torture he was inflicting on me, but he didn’t take it further. While that may have given me a modicum of relief, what he did was already bad enough without shattering the remnants of my soul by violating me further. Because in my mind there’s nothing worse that could happen to a woman than that. Nothing. This I could deal with. Barely, but I could. But that…never. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to overcome something as horrific as being raped. Even as a child I knew that about myself.
Eventually the hundreds of slices turned to cuts that began to scab over. Then they transformed into thin silvery-white scars, a patchwork across my upper thighs. I would look at those marks, to be honest I still occasionally do, and wonder if the scars on my soul would ever heal as well as they did. I doubted it, highly doubted it, but I still prayed that one day someone would love me regardless of my disfigurement. Because that’s how I saw myself now, as disfigured. The only thing I was left unsure of was if those scars made me as ugly as they are. In time, as I grew up and became more at ease with who I am as a person I recognized they didn’t define me, but they definitely made up part of who I am. I learned to accept they would never go away, and that I would have to be okay with that.
I wouldn’t realize it then, not for many years come either, but there was something wrong with Eli. Very, very, horribly wrong. Not that it excused what he did to me, far from it. Nothing could excuse that, but knowing what I do now, if I could hazard a guess, his behavior never changed in the time he was gone, nor would it ever.
I didn’t tell anyone about what went on during that period of my life, and even I could see I desperately needed help sorting out the conflicting emotions and instability I was feeling. I was twelve years old, in the throes of puberty, and confused beyond belief. I didn’t have support, because I wouldn’t allow myself to seek it, so when normal daily life started proving more and more of a struggle I turned to the only thing I knew. I shut down, hibernated in my head, and tried to wait the turmoil out. When that didn’t work I did the next best thing. I spent endless hours with my head buried in books trying to work out how to help myself.
The day my Dad told me Eli had disappeared into thin air, not even the club knew where he’d gone, was the best day of my young life. The only thing I felt at the knowledge he was gone, that my four-year ordeal was over, was overwhelming relief. If I could have, I’d have sunk to my knees and praised whoever was looking out for me the second dad told me that.
But my relief was short lived, because even though Eli wasn’t around anymore, that didn’t stop the terrifying nightmares that woke me every night. It didn’t stop the cold sweats and shudders that wracked my body, or the near panic attacks I had at the feeling someone was watching me on my way to school. I was always looking over my shoulder scared he would appear out of thin air signaling my torture would begin again. It wasn’t until I turned fifteen that something bigger, something far more traumatic took over most of the darkness he’d left behind. However, not even my parents ‘death’, could completely banish the memories seemingly set on repeat in my head.
I resigned myself to the realization nothing would be able to erase him, and set out to find a way to cope. What I didn’t know was that Tobias ‘Saint’ Phillips was just around the corner. I didn’t seek him out, but nevertheless he rode into my life on a gleaming black, silver, and chrome beast, and became my Prince in leather and denim.
He wasn’t your typical Prince though. No, not him. He wasn’t charming in the slightest. He was sarcastic and stand-offish. He didn’t woo me or buy me flowers. He bought me a helmet for when we rode on his bike, demanding I wear it or he’d leave me behind. He wasn’t romantic or overly affectionate, but when I was with him I knew I had him. All of him. I had him in a way that I knew would be forever if I wanted it. And I did, desperately. I wanted forever with the man who stole my heart within minutes of meeting him, and I promised myself I would do anything I could to keep him, even if that meant never telling him about my past. Because I wouldn’t do that. I refused to taint the beauty we had by infecting him with the filth of a time and a man best forgotten.
But now, looking into my husbands pained eyes, I knew with every fiber of my being I’d made the wrong decision.
“Why, Tilly? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve hunted the motherfucker down and killed him. I would’ve made him pay for what he did to you, baby,” Saint rasps. His voice is hoarse and I can see the gathering wetness in his eyes. This though, this right here is why I never wanted him to know. I didn’t want to see the look of agony and helplessness on his handsome face. He didn’t deserve the pain this would surely cause him. My husband deserved a beautiful life after losing his sister so young. Not one filled with a damaged woman who need a hero to save her. A woman that couldn’t give him the easy life I knew deep down he desired.
I blink rapidly trying to lift the fog from the edges of my vision, which is not easy. I also attempt to maneuver myself off his lap where I’m seated straddling his firm thighs. I don’t know what to tell him, that’s why I need space. How do I make him understand that is exactly what I don’t want? I don’t want him to feel obligated to take care of my problems. How do I calm the tidal wave of emotions flitting across his face? I should have had answers on hand for when this day came, because regardless of how close to the vest I played it, I knew it would indeed come. I didn’t though. I didn’t have any answers for him that I thought would be remotely good enough.
Staring into his beautiful green eyes taking in all the beauty that is him, I reply quietly.
“I didn’t tell you because it’s dirty, ugly, and shameful. I hate that it happened, and I was ever so trusting to put myself in the position that it could. I despise everything about that man, but there was nothing I could do to change…”
“Yes, you fucking could have. You could have told your man and he’d have sorted it. I mightn’t have been able to take away your pain, Tilly, but I could sure as fuck have made his life a hell of a lot more painful than the one he’s been living, free and clear.”
Yes, he could have done that, and I know he would have given the chance. But the reality is, Demon is still Devil’s Spawn. That means retribution in any form would need to be decided on by the whole club, and that was something I couldn’t handle. I didn’t want people knowing what happened to me. Most of all I didn’t want my dad, Demon’s biological brother, knowing what he’d done all those years ago. I wanted it left alone. I wanted it dead and buried getting the air time it deserved, which was none.
“He’s a brother, Saint. In another chapter sure, but he’s a brother nonetheless. There isn’t anythi
ng anyone could have…”
“You don’t think if I’d taken this shit to Priest he wouldn’t have been all over it. Fucking hell, Tilly,” he exclaims throwing an arm in the air. “Priest would’ve had him ripped the fuck apart by his brothers as punishment for what he did to you. No one hurts women and gets away with it. Least of all women that are part of our family. You know that, and you know I’d never let a man get away with hurting you without seeking vengeance for it too.”
Saint’s anger rolls through the room consuming all the air in its path. The small space is thick with the vicious rage he’s projecting.
“I know that too,” I reply sadly. “That was one of the reasons for me not telling you. Do you really think someone like me would want the club knowing? Uncle Priest knowing? I don’t think so,” I say shaking my head.
Attempting yet again to move off his lap, I’m met with two solid bands of iron in the form of muscle wrapping around my waist, keeping me firmly in place.
“I get that. I really do, baby, but that doesn’t change the facts. You should’ve trusted that I’d make this right for you, in all the ways I could. If that meant I had to hunt his sick fucking ass down on my own, without the club taking my back, I would have. If that meant I needed to tell the club some, not all just some, so I had them ride with me, I’d have done that too. All roads might end with me killing the bastard, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have listened to you. Taken your input on it, or discussed it with you before acting.”
I believe him too, because Saint is known for thinking things through. He’s not rash with his judgements. He doesn’t make decisions without exploring all the options. Often the club approaches him to help iron out the details in situations could be potentially volatile. Where I disagree with him is when he said he’d accept my input. I’m well aware he’d listen, but if I didn’t agree with his way of handling it he’d try to convince me to come around to his way of thinking, or do what he wanted anyway. Either way, I was getting fucked. I submitted to his ridiculous alpha-biker demands, or I took a stand and he blatantly ignored me.
“Mmhmm, sure you would’ve. Would this be before, or after you killed him?” I say rolling my eyes.
With a swift slap to my backside, the first hint of a grin spreads across my husbands’ face.
“You better stop rolling those pretty, chocolate eyes at me, babe. We’re having a serious conversation here, and we’ve got more ground to cover before I let your sweet ass off my lap.”
“What more is there to discuss?” I enquire anxiously. “Because I was kind of hoping we were all done for today.”
He knows my methods of coping, the way I check out on him. Squeezing the outside of my hips he brings my focus back to him, and him alone, easily.
“Tilly, there’s more to it than that, and I know you know that. I wouldn’t have come storming over here speaking that motherfuckers name in our house if there wasn’t.”
Again, he’s right. I do know he wouldn’t risk my reaction unless there was a lot more to this story. Sighing heavily I nod saying
“Just make it quick. Like pulling off a Band-Aid.”
“I got word from, Priest that Demon’s coming back into town the day after tomorrow. He wants his patch back. Shit went down in Montana. Nasty shit. Shit not completely unlike yours. He hurt a girl, Tilly. Laid her up in the hospital it was that bad.” He spits nostrils flaring, and the pulse point at the base of his neck is pounding a furious rhythm.
While I’m busy trying to comprehend what he just said he adds more wood to the fire.
“Priest knows, babe. He hasn’t known for long, and he’s giving me this time to talk to you before I’ve got to report back with where we’re going from here.” Moving his hands from my hips, Saint grips my biceps holding me firmly in place. “I can’t stop him from coming to, Blackwater, sweetheart, but I can stop him from ever wanting to come back five minutes after he crosses the county line. Grimm is aware he’s headed this way, and has offered his support whichever way we wanna go with this, but babe, I’ve got to have your take on it. If I keep this shit between Priest and I, Demon could very well rally enough support from the other brothers to take his patch to vote regardless of him not deserving it back. Not to mention that shit is going to look suspect seeing as Priest was one of his closest friends back in the day. Him all of a sudden casting a ‘nay’ vote is going to draw attention and questions, none of which we can answer if you want to keep this quiet.”
Looking at me with love, support, and compassion in his eyes, Saint strokes my arms gently, waiting for my decision. I come to it quickly, because there’s nothing I can do. I don’t want him here, not even temporarily, but if I don’t let Saint tell the club why, I have no doubt he’s going to be taking up permanent residence here. Knowing this is going to go from bad to worse, I say the most sensible thing I’ve said on the subject to date. I just hope I don’t regret it.
“I think it’s time we talked to my, dad.”
CHAPTER NINE
Jones
“Money won’t make the pain go away,
but it will pay for a hitman.”
- Rotten eCard
I pushed end call on my cell and did it shaking my head. Saint and my baby girl have been having a rough time of it, and only partially due to his affair with that whore Stacey. There’s so much more going on there it’d take days to document all the shit they have to figure out. That doesn’t mean I’m not silently praying they’ll make it through the other side of it together though, because I absolutely am. The two of them paying me a visit within the hour, a visit I’m told doesn’t include my grandbabies, doesn’t bode well for my prayers however.
Spotting my wife in the kitchen working on some recipe she’s been trying to perfect for the last hour, I gently offer her the suggestion she go see Brenna and commune with her over tequila and donuts for the rest of the day. Sally knows when something’s going down, she’s been my old lady for over forty years after all, so she knows when to make herself scarce. With a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth and a wary smile, she leaves just in time to see Saint pulling into the driveway with my baby on the back of his bike.
As a father, it still fucking kills me to see my tender-hearted little girl shacked up with a man like Saint. But over the years he’s proved to be a devoted husband and father, even if he was stepping out on my girl. No matter, that’s something I took care of myself, kicking his ass more than once for his fuck ups. Any man that can take a beating like the one I gave him, stand up, spit out a couple of teeth, look me in the eye and tell me to go fuck myself, because he isn’t leaving his wife deserves some respect in my book. Not a whole hell of a lot, but some nonetheless.
Tilly and I had a rough reunion to say the least. I’d be more inclined to describe it as a grudge match with only the one contender if I’m honest about it. Tilly fucking despised me and her Mom when we returned from the “dead”. I don’t blame her for her reaction, anyone in her position would’ve been shocked, but what she failed to understand or listen to was that we didn’t have a choice. In order to keep her, her Sister, my brothers, and the club safe, Sally and I had to make the hardest decision we’ve ever faced. Leaving your daughters isn’t for the faint of heart, it certainly wasn’t something we took fucking lightly. We went back and forth agonizing over it for so long, that by the time our hand was forced we had little time to pull it off successfully. In the end it went off without a hitch, sure, and it was something I was grateful for, yet heartbroken over at the same time.
Not once when I held my little girls in my arms after they’d been born did I think I’d have to do something so despicable to them. There was nothing I wouldn’t have given to see the beautiful smiles on their faces every day, tuck them in at night, or listen to them fight like cats and dogs, but all of that paled in comparison to keeping them safe. My need to protect them overshadowed everything else. Regardless of what they both thought of me, how hurt they were by my decisions, and how long it t
ook me to win them back, I wouldn’t change what I did for the world. It kept them safe and protected from the woman trafficking bastard we later caught, and that was all that mattered. In my eyes everything else could be solved, but losing them to a fucking psychopath like the one we were track was unacceptable.
Watching Saint help my girl dismount his bike, it’s hard not to notice the love he has for her. When it boils right down to it, I couldn’t have picked a better man to have her back. They’ve got their problems like any married couple, maybe a few more than deemed normal, but I truly believe they can get through this shit if they both want to.
Signaling them to follow me, I lead them into my office where we can get whatever they want to discuss over and done with. It comfortable, private, and I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need both for whatever they’ve got to say. Sitting behind my desk I gesture for them to sit wherever they want, and I can’t help notice Tilly positioning her chair as close to her husband as possible without actually sitting on his lap. Hmm…something’s definitely changed there in the last twenty-four hours I muse.
“Well, you’re here, I’m here, what is it that’s so urgent we needed to do this now?” I can’t say I’m not curious, but the underlying dread I’m feeling is stronger. I’ve always trusted my gut, and this time my gut and the expressions on their faces aren’t doing anything to assuage my fears.
Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel Page 9