by Lisa N. Paul
“What are we going to do?” Ashley asked.
Pulling his fiancée against his chest, Ryan looked at the men in the room, but his eyes settled on Sebastian. “Your call, buddy.”
In that moment, Sebastian realized he was no longer an observer, no longer Max’s friend or the guy interested in Lyla—he was part of this family. God, he’d never realized how good that would feel or how fucking scared he would be.
Her father would be dealt with if it was the last thing he did, but in that moment, her father wasn’t the issue. Lyla was the only thing that mattered.
“I gotta go,” Sebastian said.
“Yes, you do,” Danny mumbled.
Sebastian was already halfway out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I See You
AFTER NEARLY A year of living with her father, Lyla understood the rhythm of their relationship. He ran the house, and she stayed out of the way. Especially on guys’ nights. The closer she got to her thirteenth birthday, the more his buddies leered at her if she walked past. Therefore, she made sure to spend those nights in her room in order to avoid the creepy vibes.
One night, after the apartment was quiet, she left her bedroom to make sure there were no cigarettes left burning and the door was locked. Outside of her bedroom door, a hand came down over her mouth. Lyla felt her eyes go wide as she gasped.
The beer-laden breath of Mark’s friend Bruce huffed in her ear, “Hey, pretty girl… damn, you’re fine.”
He ran the fingers of his other hand down Lyla’s neck and slithered them over her torso, clumsily groping her newly developing breast. Stunned, Lyla trembled before she thrashed in his grasp.
“This is gonna happen, sweet thing. You decide if it’s rough or not.”
With that, he took his hand off of her mouth. Lyla screamed, praying her father would somehow wake up and protect her. He didn’t stir, didn’t wake, just snored uninterrupted on the couch.
Bruce roughly clamped his hand over Lyla’s mouth while the other hand pulled her beautiful espresso hair. “Perfect choice. Exactly the one I was hoping for.” He licked her ear, gave one more hard tug on her hair, lifted her over his shoulder, and took her back into her room. “I love the feisty girls.”
Her innocence was stolen that night, along with her trust and her sense of safety.
The following morning, in tears, Lyla approached her father. She told him what happened while he was passed out, not sure what to expect.
Mark’s smile wasn’t it. “Bruce is a good guy. You must have misunderstood.” When she showed him the bruises on her arms, his eyes filled with anger as he grabbed her wrists. “You leave him alone, understood?”
Confused, hurt, and aching, Lyla left the house and went to school.
FOUR WEEKS PASSED without another incident. While Lyla still tensed up every week when the “guys” came over, she no longer vomited and cried herself to sleep every night. However, she still kept her music lower so she could hear if one of Mark’s friends approached her door.
When she heard female giggling coming from the living room during what was supposed to be a guys’ night, Lyla was curious. Quiet like a church mouse, Lyla crept down the hallway and peeked around the wall. Horror gripped her belly when she saw that her father, Bruce, Tom, Jack, and Jimmy were watching a video of Mark having sex with two women he’d “entertained” over the weekend. The men cheered and laughed, high-fived, and crudely commented on the women’s bodies.
Feeling sick, she bit the sides of her cheeks to keep from vomiting before tiptoeing back to her room. Did those women know they were being taped? Watched? Did they feel as dirty as she did?
An hour passed, then another. There was a knock on her door. Lyla’s body tensed as bile rose in her throat. Was it Bruce?
“Lyla, sweetie, it’s Tom. Can you open the door?”
Lyla relaxed slightly. When she opened the door, Tom stood at the entrance and didn’t attempt to come in.
“Your dad drank too much, sugar. We’re all leaving. I just thought you should know.” With that, he turned around and left her doorway.
Lyla waited in her room for an hour before leaving its safety to clean up the house.
The following week when Tom knocked on the door, Lyla was quicker to open it. He once again told her that they were leaving and that her dad was passed out on the sofa. This time, Lyla came out of her room just after hearing the front door close. When she stepped into the hallway, she saw Tom leaning by the table. His usually kind eyes looked dark and scary as if they were studying her, marking her—like a predator’s.
“Hi, Tom. Umm… I thought you left,” Lyla said softly.
“You know what, sugar? I’m gonna stay and help you tonight.” Quicker than her eyes could process, Tom’s body was on hers. “I’m gonna help you learn to please a man.” Lyla began to cry, but Tom put his hand over her mouth to muffle her scream and kicked her feet into her room. Once the door was shut, Tom let go of Lyla’s mouth. “Cry, sugar. All that emotion just for me? I love it.”
Lyla screamed, “Why are you doing this? Why?”
Tom laughed. “Because I can, sugar. Because I can.”
He pulled a length of rope out of his pants pocket and bound her hands to the headboard of her bed. Shaking, Lyla continued to weep and scream. Tom asked her to stop crying, but Lyla was too hysterical to stop. The slap to her face was hard, making stars dance in her sight as her vision blurred from pain and tears. Fear surged through her small body as she continued to sob. Unable to block her face from another slap, she turned her head to the side and vomited.
Tom shook his head. “Now, now, sugar, that isn’t how you please a man.”
He pulled off his belt and sent a searing slap of leather over her thigh. Lyla howled in pain as tears flowed. Tom pulled off her socks and shoved them in her mouth.
“Now you’ll be quiet.” His voice was as calm as if he were doing the dishes.
Once she was completely naked, Tom took his turn with her body exactly the way Bruce had done the month before. When he was finished, he pulled up his pants, kissed her head, and untied her.
As he left her crying on the bed, he called, “Thanks, sugar, that was great.”
The following morning, Lyla tried once again to talk to Mark.
“I will not tolerate these lies,” he yelled as he slapped her face.
With nowhere else to go, Lyla knew she was on her own. There had to be a way for her to not be home on guys’ night. She could go to the library or to a friend’s. Something. Anything. She had a few weeks to figure something out. Except…
Three nights after Tom’s attack, when her father was out for the evening, her bedroom door swung open. Jack loomed in the doorway then pounced on her. Unlike the other two men, he didn’t waste time with talk. He tied her facedown on her bed, both arms and legs, and used her entire body, laughing manically as she screamed in pain. He whipped her back with his belt until she could feel blood dripping down her sides.
Upon finishing, he untied her and ruffled her hair. On the way out of her room, he said, “Good enough.”
Lyla wanted to die. She wanted to be with her mom, her grandparents, anywhere but in her father’s house. Anywhere but feeling the pain and humiliation of her new life. Days passed, and she no longer slept or ate. She stopped brushing her hair or washing her clothes. The only thing she did was shower. She took long hot showers, letting the water scald her skin. She scrubbed with soap and rags until her skin was red and raw.
At school, she totally withdrew. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to friends or participate in class. One day, about four days after her encounter with Jack, she was in gym class when her gym teacher blew the whistle and asked Lyla to come into her office. The assistant gym teacher took over the class as Lyla followed Mrs. Miller.
“Lyla, honey, is there something you would like to tell me?” the teacher asked.
Averting eye contact, Lyla shook her head.
“Lyla, I know
you’re lying. Your back is bleeding through your shirt.”
Shock stole over Lyla’s face. Her grandparents had always said she couldn’t lie, that her face was too expressive. They had loved that about her. Right now, she wished she could disappear.
The teacher asked Lyla to lift up the back of her shirt. That was the first time Lyla saw pity in someone’s eyes. Sure, people had felt bad for her when her mom died. They’d felt sad when her grandparents died. But those things happened… this was pity. Lyla hated this look. This feeling of being small.
Mrs. Miller explained that she was going to need to call child services. Lyla just stared at her in silence. Dare she hope this could get better?
Mark was called into school that afternoon. Using all of the charm God gave him, he explained that he had no idea how this could have happened to his daughter and he would cooperate in any investigation. Since Lyla refused to speak about it, they allowed her to go home.
“I told you to keep your hands off Bruce!” Mark screamed at her in the car.
“It wasn’t Bruce,” Lyla whispered. “It was Tom and… Jack.”
Mark glared at Lyla. “You’re a whore just like your mother. Keep your clothes on and your mouth shut.”
That was the end of their father/daughter talk.
That night, when the guys came over, Lyla hid in her closet, her bedroom door locked with a chair in front of it. She’d kept a knife in her drawer since the incident with Jack. While she had never wanted to hurt anyone, she would defend herself at all costs. She remained in her closet until the wee hours of the morning, well after her father’s friends had left and the apartment sounded quiet. Finally, she got the nerve to open her bedroom door.
Jimmy was waiting for her. “I thought you’d never come out of your room, sweet girl,” he said in a honey-smooth voice.
Lyla was paralyzed. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t move. Stuck still as Jimmy walked toward her.
“Now you see, those other idiots, they don’t know how to treat a woman,” he said.
Lyla’s voice came back, soft and shaky. “But I’m…not a woman… I’m just a girl.”
Jimmy clucked his tongue as he ran his hands down her back. “No, sweet thing, you’re all woman. And I’m gonna show you how a woman is treated.”
Lyla knew her fate was sealed. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she knew there was no reason to scream. Her father wouldn’t wake up, wouldn’t come to her rescue.
Jimmy gently picked her up and took her into her room. Unlike Bruce, Tom, and Jack, Jimmy gently laid her on the bed.
“I’m sorry, sweet girl, but I’m going to bind your hands. I don’t want you to stop what I’m going to do to you.” Jimmy’s voice was soft, his actions gentle as he tied her hands with rope.
Lyla’s tears continued to fall in silent pleas.
“Turn over,” he requested.
Still in her tank top and sleep pants, she followed his order, praying he would at least be gentle.
“They did this to you?” He touched the wounds on Lyla’s upper back and shoulders.
Lyla nodded silently. He lifted the tank, exposing her back but saying nothing more. Jimmy’s breath was audible, and he sounded frustrated. He walked over to her door and locked it.
Lyla held her breath. He was the first of the men to lock her in. He then grabbed the hairbrush off her night table and sat down next to her. Fear lit up her every nerve. Was he going to beat her with the brush?
He stroked her hair, section by section, gently untangling the knots, and she trembled, uncertain what to expect. As soon as she let down her guard, the pain would start.
After a time that could have been minutes or hours, Jimmy placed the brush back on the night table and leaned forward. Panic bubbled through Lyla as she thought of what was to come. Jimmy pressed a kiss to her cheek and slid off the bed.
Confused and uncertain, Lyla said, “Um, I don’t understand…you didn’t…”
“Sweet girl, I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you… for what I’ve done to you. We’re monsters. I’m… sorry.” Jimmy untied her wrists before he left her room and her house.
WHEN THE SOCIAL worker from the Department of Child Services came to Mark’s apartment, Lyla was quiet and withdrawn. She had just come off of two sleepless nights due to her father’s “guests,” and she was exhausted. She had lost more weight, and her teachers were asking questions. The social worker, like all women, fell under Mark’s spell within a matter of minutes. Lyla knew that no help would come from this woman no matter what the “rules” stated.
They were supposed to hear from the social worker later that week to set up another meeting and a counseling session, and the social worker left her card on the counter as she got up to leave the house. Lyla saw a look pass between her father and the woman but couldn’t quite catch what was said. The woman left, and Lyla went to her room.
After two weeks of waiting, Lyla realized the social worker was never going to call.
One night, Lyla heard the men in the family room. They seemed quieter than usual, except for when a bout of laughter overtook them. She heard all of their voices except Jimmy’s. She wondered if he had come, but she was too afraid to open her door. No longer did Lyla feel safe when the house got quiet. She knew she wouldn’t leave her room at any cost… no matter what. What she didn’t expect was for her door to come crashing down, taken off the hinges.
Shock overtook her as she looked up from her desk to see Bruce, Tom, and Jack standing in her doorway. They looked menacing, evil, and twisted. Lyla immediately scrambled to her nightstand to grab her knife, but the knife was gone. Where was it?
“Are you looking for this, pretty girl?”
Lyla turned around to see Mark holding her knife in one hand and a video camera in the other.
“What are you doing?” Lyla croaked.
“I’m doing what I’ve been doing for months. I’m making movies. You are a brilliant actress, Lyla. A bit dramatic, but brilliant! You should see yourself with these guys. The tears… they’re perfect. Do you have any idea the money men pay to see pretty little girls like you? You’re gonna make me a fortune.”
She saw arousal in her father’s eyes. She was going to vomit. So he hadn’t been sleeping all of those times. He’d been waiting, watching, capturing the moments his friends raped and beat her.
“Now Jim, he wasn’t a team player…”
Lyla’s eyes went wide.
Mark continued. “He locked the door. How was he, Lyla? Did you enjoy him as well?” He didn’t wait for her answer as he continued his monologue for the camera. “No matter. It all comes down to tonight. Tonight is the finale. Tonight, you get to enjoy them all at once.”
She listened to the mad man who was her blood, her father, talking casually about the rape of his thirteen-year-old daughter.
“Dad, please… don’t do this… please…” Her tears fell again as Lyla realized she had no way out of this situation.
“Love those tears, pretty girl.” With the camera up and the red light on, Mark said, “Have at her, boys.”
Lyla tried to fight as hard as she could, but one thirteen-year-old girl was no match for three grown men. That night, they hurt her in ways she could have never imagined. They beat her with their hands and their belts; they bit her and choked her. But just before she passed out, she heard a voice that was smooth like honey. It called her name before the world went dark. Her light went out.
LYLA WOKE UP in a hospital bed. Her body ached all over. Her limbs were heavy, her vision blurred. She had no memory of how she’d gotten there or how long she’d been there. She only knew of monsters and pain. She looked around the room and saw a familiar face sitting outside the door.
“Jimmy?” she rasped, her throat raw from screaming.
Jimmy’s body shifted on the chair. A uniformed officer escorted him into the hospital room and stood by his side, keeping a large distance between them.
“Jimmy? What are you doing here?”
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br /> “I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. None of that should have happened to you. Not one minute of it. I was wrong and sick, I realize that. But once they started their plan, I-I had to bring them all down. Make them all pay. I tried to get to you sooner, but they moved the date up. It wasn’t supposed to happen until next week. I-I wanted to stop them….” Jimmy’s voice broke.
“What happened?” Lyla asked through her tears.
“I went to the police and turned myself in. I explained what was happening to you and what was going to happen. But I waited too long. I tried to save my own sorry ass instead of thinking about you. You aren’t a consenting adult. You’re just a child… just a child.” He cried, “Oh my God, you’re just a child! When I went to the police to turn myself in, I explained that there was a social worker in charge of your case. They looked into it… she never turned her paperwork in. When they tracked her down, she admitted to sleeping with your father. He videotaped her then blackmailed her before she could turn in the paperwork. There’s no one following your case, Lyla. I’m so sorry… God, you’ll never know.”
The officer yanked on Jimmy’s arm. “We had a deal, bud. Only discuss your part. Nothing else about the case. Now let’s go.”
The nurse came in to give Lyla pain medicine as the officer pushed Jimmy out of the door.
THE DRIVE FROM Kyle’s back to her place was nothing but a blur, as was how she ended up down in her basement, surrounded by the contents of the boxes that had been in her possession since the day Rachel died. Boxes Lyla had refused to open, refused to face, but still they controlled every facet of her life.
As she read her story via police reports, depositions, pictures, and testimonies, she relived every moment, every touch, every fear, every helpless fucking second. She remembered learning about the countless other women that came before she had ever met her father. How he had recorded their exploits with and without permission. How he had abused the victims when they threatened to turn him into the authorities. How the same group of men, excluding Jimmy, had performed similar acts before showing no regret and no mercy. Her demons surrounded her and taunted her as the cold of the concrete floor seeped into her bones and her blood. Shivering, she pulled her legs to her chest and rocked, wondering if warmth would ever find her again.