Unreal 2 Cold Illusion - Winter's Chill: (Adult Suspense Thriller) Page 7

  But some memories were too horrible to bury.

  “I’m back…”

  Julie cowered in a corner, naked, her hands bound behind her back. She could struggle to her feet and try to make a run for the cracked door. It promised escape, until Pete or Matt caught her and smacked her face before throwing her back into the evil man’s arms. He would still rape her, and Pete would whip her back until it burst blood afterwards. She could avoid the lash if she just stayed still and waited for it to be over.

  “Miss me?”

  She winced when he moved a lock of greasy brown hair from her eyes. After a spray from the hose, Pete forced gel into her hair to give it some of that old luster. A part of Julie wished that he would force it on her entire body, anything to feel clean again.

  “That’s not nice,” Carter said with a smirk. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

  Fresh tears started to spill down her cheeks, and they exploded into sobs when he yanked at her hair and forced her mouth to his.

  “No,” she whimpered when their lips mercifully parted. “No more.”

  He laughed like a greedy child.

  “We’re just getting started.”

  He was not t lying.

  That night, he took her again and again, his cock staying in her body between the rapes. The demon napped and kept her pinned under his sweating body. After the first assault, Julie tried to get away.

  And he punched her in the mouth.

  “Just chill bitch! We’ll go again in a few.”

  After that she did not move and was tortured so many times by his wicked lust that she lost count. As his hands pinched her breasts and he pulled on her hair, as her body burned every time he defiled her, she felt her mind shredded to the point of insanity. Would this be the rest of her life, an unending loop of torment? Maybe she was already dead and this was hell. What had she done to deserve this? Would he ever stop?

  “No! Please! Please let me go!”

  Julie started to slam her fists into the man on top of her. At that second she did not care if he slapped her again or beat her to a pulp. She would take a beating if he would just…

  “Juliet, stop! It’s okay. It’s…”

  Failing to recognize Ethan’s voice, she hit his jaw and scrambled off the bed. She tried to get to her feet, but she tripped over her discarded dress. Crawling like a wounded animal, she huddled against the wall, weeping and trembling.

  6

  Ethan groaned in pain and massaged the place where Juliet’s terrified fist had batted him away before fleeing from his arms, from his bed. For a second, he was confused. She was the one who had stripped and told him that this was what she wanted. And he had tried to be as tender as possible when they touched. So what had he done wrong?

  “Juliet…”

  He sat on the side of the bed and looked to the floor. The room filled with the sound of her sobs, and her body shook so that the lamp on the bedside table, only a few inches from her agonized form, swayed and threatened to crash to the floor. Ethan leapt up to keep the damn thing from toppling over and showering her in shards of broken glass. He was glad to hold it in place, glad to do something to protect her. But as soon as his shadow fell across her face, she cried harder and pressed her knees closer to her chest.

  “Go away! Stop hurting me! I just want to go home!”

  And then he got it. She was trapped in an awful memory, and she had no idea who he was, no knowledge of the fact that she was already home. Figuratively he was kicking himself for allowing his desire for her to get the better of him. He should have sensed that something was off; this thought filled him with shame. He could not bear the thought that he had added to her pain when she had already had enough for ten lifetimes. Reaching forward, wanting only to hold her and remind her that everything was alright; he suddenly stopped and drew his hand back. The last thing that she would want now was the feel of a man’s hands on any part of her body.

  But he had to do something.

  Rolling to the other side of the bed, he stood and pulled the quilt from the mattress. He folded it carefully then moved around the bed until he was just a few inches from the place where she wept.

  “You can cover yourself up,” he whispered as he bent down and placed the quilt on the floor.

  Juliet cringed at the sound of his voice, and Ethan backed away. Taking slow, careful steps, he moved to the other side of the room and stood against the wall, never taking his eyes off of her. He did not move, barely breathed for several minutes. Then, Juliet finally pulled her head out of her hands. When she saw the quilt at her feet, she appeared to ponder it carefully. Tentatively, she stretched her trembling fingers towards the promise of some way to hide her body, and then she snatched the quilt up before anyone could take it away from her.

  Ethan let out a soft sigh of relief. Gradually, her crying subsided, and she lifted her head higher to look around the room. He waited with clenched fists as he saw her start to register where she was. Her eyes slowly shifted to his. Juliet blinked several times before an expression of understanding crossed her face. Gasping, she placed her hand to her mouth.

  “Ethan?” she asked in a hoarse, pained voice.

  He nodded and started to step towards her. He was directly above her when new tears started spilling from her eyes. Her trembling had slowed to tiny shivers, and he grew bold enough to sink to his knees and touch her scarred shoulder.

  “Don’t be afraid, Juliet. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  He placed one arm around her shoulders, his hold awkward and tentative. She did not flinch at the contact, but he was careful not to take it any further. Not just yet.

  Ethan watched Juliet’s tears streaking down her face. The scar across her face, so carefully concealed with makeup, grew more visible with each passing second. How he wished he would wipe it away forever along with whatever memory was slicing into her soul. He should have said no when she brought him to the bed, should have known that she just was not ready for this.

  What should I do now? Should I try to hold her? Maybe I should leave? Why can’t I just talk to her? How can I make her forget?

  The questions flashed through his mind until Juliet sighed and wiped her face on the quilt. She sat in silence, struggling to take a series of deep breaths. Finally, she was able to look into his face. Her eyes drifted to his jaw and she saw the mark left by her fist.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered as she touched his face. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. I hurt you.”

  He eased her hand away from her jaw and held it tenderly.

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  “No, I---”

  “I’m fine, Juliet. I… just want to know what happened. Can… can you talk to me? Please?”

  Her lips parted, but then she looked up at the bed, the rumpled sheets, and she slowly shook her head.

  “Not here.”

  It was as if she could not stand the idea of confessing whatever she thought she had done wrong.

  Not one single thing.

  “Okay,” Ethan said. “Can I… do you want me to help you up?”

  As soon as she nodded, he guided to her feet and led her body, still covered by the quilt from the bedroom. They walked past the table and the traces of the meal that she had prepared. When Juliet looked at the abandoned plates, he felt her back start to quiver. He shushed her and quickened their shared pace until he settled her on the couch and tucked the quilt around her legs. He sat at her side, and folded his hands in his lap.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

  It took her several minutes to get back to the place where she was ready speak, but then the words came, slowly, as she kept her eyes to the floor.

  “I wanted to do something nice for your birthday,” she said.

  Now Ethan looked away and bit his lip. All of this suffering because she was thinking about him. He allowed himself a moment of self-loathing before focusing all of his attention of her.

  “You know that you d
on’t have to---”

  “I know, Ethan. But… but don’t you understand? I wanted to. I really did.”

  She looked at him with weak, watering eyes. His stomach turned to see her unhappy, and he started to assure her that it was okay. But then he could see the pain in her eyes mingling with a kind of desire. In that instant, he believed that this was something she wanted for herself as much as she wanted it for him. Smiling, he touched her face. God, she was beautiful. Even like this. Even broken and bruised. Maybe it was wrong for his thoughts to drift in that direction. Then again, she was trying to tell him that she wanted this… whatever this was… to be like any other situation where two people lived together and showed their love in every possible way.

  “I think I do, Juliet. Thank you for that.”

  She turned away with another sob and smoothed her hair with her hands.

  “I had it all… planned. It would have been so right. And I could have done it. I know I could have. But…”

  When her voice trailed off again, Ethan wondered again what he might have done wrong. Had he been too rough in his excitement to have her? Had something in his touch reminded her of one the unfeeling bastards that had tortured her for too long? Without even knowing his sin, he apologized.

  Juliet’s eyes pierced his soul with her own question.

  “Why? It wasn’t anything you did.”

  No. No he was not about to let her blame herself for this, and his firm hands surrounded her shoulders.

  “And it wasn’t anything you did either. It---”

  “I know that.”

  As glad as he was to hear her say that, he pondered what then. What had caused her to seem as scared as she was when he first found her?

  “Juliet, did… did someone…”

  It was the worst thing to contemplate, but was it possible that someone else had hurt her? What if it had happened at the shop? Someone could have come in while she was alone, demanded money, and then wanted more. It would have been the cruelest twist of fate for her to survive that summer only to suffer again on account of some random act of violence. If that had happened, it was on his watch. And he was supposed to be seeing to it that no one ever hurt her again.

  “Did someone what?” she asked.

  Ethan’s voice was thick as he answered.

  “Did someone do something to you?”

  When she shook her head, he relaxed.

  She spoke again.

  “Not yet. But it’s coming.”

  His mind jumped to her mother. Thinking only of her scumbag prick of a husband, she was probably threatening Julie if she did not play nice and make like the nightmare had never happened. He would not allow it. First thing Monday morning, they would call Detective Morales, get a restraining order, do whatever was necessary to put a stop to her fears.

  “What’s coming Juliet?”

  He thought that she would cry again, but to Ethan’s surprise she just sighed and rested her head against his chest. It took him a moment to know what to do with his arms, but when she clung to his neck, he finally held her.

  “Morales was here today,” Juliet whispered.

  Morales was here. Morales already knew. So she knew something that Juliet had not. He wished that she still did not. But maybe it was better to have the unknown out in the open. And the cop would help them through---

  “And… and she says I need to testify. At… at their trial. I…”

  She shuddered before she could finish and tried to sink deeper into his chest. But Ethan pulled away and stared hard at her face.

  “What? She said what?”

  He knew he had raised his voice. He knew it as soon as he saw her shy away from him. But he could not comprehend what she had just said. There were pictures, there was that punk asshole Pete. For Christ’s sake, he had seen Kim’s bloodied body, and Ethan had no problem telling a jury, a judge, even the world what those motherfuckers had done. So why in hell or on earth should Juliet have to relive the darkest days of her life with the men who stole so much sat a few feet away with their stupid, supportive wives at their worthless sides?

  “She said… she said that I have to explain what happened. Because if I don’t they’ll… they’ll twist it all around and… and I guess that’ll confuse the jury, and then they won’t---”

  “Stop. Don’t say another word.”

  He was on his feet and pacing the room. Juliet pressed the quilt closer to her body.

  This couldn’t happen. He could not let this happen. Wherever Morales might be, he wanted to seek her out and demand to know just what was going through her head. It was bad enough that she had to plant a seed in Juliet’s mind that would spring into a weed, strangling any thoughts that McCord and Troxel would pay the price for their crimes. But that she would force Juliet into the same room with them was monstrous. That their attorneys would have a chance to humiliate Juliet, violate her again, was unspeakable. He formed a fist and slammed it into his palm.

  He should just get it over with now. Go to that fucking penthouse and break their necks. No. better to sell them into some kind of servitude and leave them to wish they were dead. His mind filled with all manner of vengeance when he finally realized that Juliet was crying again, softly. Stepping back to her side, he knelt beside the couch and took her hands.

  “You’re not doing it.”

  Juliet shook her head and started to protest.

  “No. No way. I won’t see you put through it.”

  Juliet found her voice and choked through her tears.

  “But… but she said that I have to. Have to do it for Kim. And…”

  She sobbed aloud, and he pulled her close to his body in the hope that his embrace could protect her from all the horrifying images that had to be right back at the forefront of her mind. Not that they ever left her. How could they? But the thought of having to face them must have made it like it had just happened, like it was still happening. The cop to used Kim to get Juliet to fall in line with this sick plan? Unforgivable and he would tell her as much at the first chance.

  But right now, this night, he had another job to do.

  “Don’t cry,” he said as he stroked her back. “It’ll be okay. I promise you that.”

  He held her until her tears were spent, and then she looked at him. Streaks of mascara covered her cheeks, her scar, and her eyes were beyond scarlet and swollen. But then he saw a flicker of hope dance across her face.

  “I don’t have to do it?”

  Her question was desperate, and Ethan gave her a firm nod.

  “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. Let them figure out how to win their own case with the evidence they have. You’ve been through enough.”

  She grabbed his hand and lowered her head.

  “How will you…?”

  “I’ll talk to Morales, Leo Barber and whoever else. I’ll do it tomorrow, and then it’ll be done.”

  Her eyes bolted from the floor.

  “No. Not tomorrow.”

  “Why wait Juliet?”

  “Because I don’t want you spending your birthday arguing with them on account of me!”

  Her voice was hoarse from crying so much and cracked on several words. What difference did it make if it was his birthday? He had forty others, and at this point in his life they were like any other day. But as he looked back to the table, he knew that it meant something to her. It was a chance to give him something special and show him how much she cared. How could someone who had been hurt so much still be capable of such compassion?

  “Okay. Not tomorrow then. But… but Juliet? I only want one gift from you.”

  She stared at him quizzically, and he smiled as he settled at her side.

  “Let’s not talk about tomorrow. Let’s… let’s try not to even think about it. The only thing I want is for you… for us to be happy.”

  What he was asking had to sound impossible, and it was probably more than she could do given what was on the horizon. He started to take it b
ack when she smiled and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “That’s all I want too. I’ll… I’ll try, Ethan. I’ll try for you.”

  They sat holding each other in silence. His mind started to wander to the inevitable showdown with Morales and Leo Barber, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. If he expected her to forget, even for just one day, he had to follow suit.

  Juliet left his arms pressed her hands to her face.

  “I must look a mess,” she said with a sad smile.

  “No. Never.”

  “Thanks. But… um… I think I’m going to get cleaned up. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  She stood, still covered by the quilt, and shuffled to the bathroom. He heard the sound of water running and leapt up. He moved to the bedroom and smoothed the wrinkles from the sheet. He had put the quilt back in place when she no longer needed it. Moving back to the kitchen, he started clearing the table and blowing out the candles. After filling the dishwasher, he decided to put some coffee on. Not that he needed it. He knew he would not sleep this night. Whether she wanted him in the bed or on the floor, he would stay at attention in case she needed him for anything.

  Opening the cabinet to secure a filter, he noticed the unopened box of cake mix alongside the can of icing. So she was going to do that, too. A cloud of sadness fell over his heart at the thought of how much she wanted to make this perfect, and now, on top of everything else, she had to accept the fact that her plans were thwarted.

  But maybe there was still a way to salvage this.

  “Ethan?”

  She reappeared with her face scrubbed clean and her hair pulled back. Clad in her bathrobe, she carried the folded quilt into the kitchen. When she saw him holding the box of cake mix, she let out a sad sigh.

  “I would have had it ready for you. But…”

  He shook his head and took her face in his hands.

  “Not tonight. We’re letting it go. Remember?”

  With a nod she laid the quilt on one of the chairs and let him lead her to the counter.