Cruel Trust

Twenty

(TW: sexual assault)

I came to sitting in one of my kitchen chairs, squeezing my eyes together in a hard blink and opening them a fraction to see the room spinning. Lifting my hand to push my hair out of my eyes, I realized my wrists were zip tied to the wooden arms. I didn't have to try to move my legs to know they were in the same shape. 

Before I even opened my eyes, I knew I was naked. Oh my God, what the hell? I looked down and saw purple bruises—hickeys—forming on my chest. I felt acid making its way into my throat. What has he done to me?

I heard a low snickering, and I raised my head. Liam was coming around the corner of the kitchen wall, also wearing nothing at all. My face twisted in revulsion, and my terror grew with each passing second. Andrew, what happened to you? Where are you? I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head away from him, but he gripped my chin hard between his fingers and roughly jerked my face toward his. 

"Open your eyes!" he barked. "Open them!" 

I did, but I attempted to stare through him instead of at him. He leaned down toward me and lifted my chin. "Now look at me. Here's what's going to happen: You're going to fuck me. And you're going to like it." He dragged his hand up the inside of my thigh and when his fingers brushed between my legs, a violent tremor rattled through me. 

I shook my head, tears sliding out of my eyes as I came to accept that this was the end of the line. There was nothing I could do to stop him now. My arms and legs were tied. Even if I could pull my knee up enough to hit him, it wouldn't matter because I wouldn't be able to get away...it would just make him angrier.

"Liam...please don't do this," I pleaded, my voice trembling. It was the only chance I had.

"Oh, Charlotte...you've wanted this since the first time you saw me...you wanted it the first time and you want it now. Stop fighting it." A sob escaped my lips and Liam rolled his eyes. He straddled me and I recoiled from him, squeezing my eyes shut. "I'm done waiting," he said, raising his voice. He moved over me, and just before he took what he wanted, I screamed. At that moment, I heard the front door crash in.

Liam jumped off me when Andrew came around the corner, and the relief I felt was immeasurable.

"What do you think you're doing? Get away from her!" Andrew roared as he lunged at Liam.

Liam dodged Andrew, grabbed his jeans, and ran around the corner. Andrew started to go after him, but instead crossed the room and ripped the zip ties off me. I rubbed my wrists and Andrew swept me up onto my feet, hugging me to his chest.

"Charlotte, baby, are you all right?" Andrew cried, putting his hand on the back of my head and holding me to his chest.

I managed to speak through my ragged sobs. "Yes, but don't let him get away."

Andrew looked down at me and shot toward the living room. I heard his exhalation of breath, felt the cool November breeze, and I knew: Liam was gone.

I fell to my knees and pressed my forehead against the cold tile, wails racking my body. Andrew dropped next to me and held me close to him, smoothing my hair and letting me cry.

We sat that way for at least thirty minutes: me sobbing and him rocking me back and forth. Neither of us even acknowledged the fact that I was naked until I began shivering.

"Christ, Charlotte," he mumbled, unbuttoning his shirt and putting my arms into the flannel material, and my shivering subsided. "Let me get you some leggings. Stay here," he commanded, jumped up, opened the laundry room door and grabbed a pair from a basket; they were probably dirty, but I didn't care. I slid them on and pulled my legs under me so I was sitting cross-legged.

Andrew sat down in front of me and held both of my hands, looking at them for a long time before he spoke.

"Char? Did he..." Andrew seemed to choke on the words.

I shook my head. Andrew's shoulders sagged in relief. I continued, not meeting his eyes.

"He almost did...Drew, if you hadn't come when you did," I drew a ragged, choked breath, "it would've been too late."

Andrew's face reddened with anger. "That dickhead. He slashed two of my tires. I got them changed and drove here. Then, I ran out of gas on the side of the highway, no station for miles. He must've siphoned my gas too. I fucking ran for like four miles. That's what took me so long to get here. And I don't know why the cops haven't gotten here yet. I called them as soon as I saw my tires were slashed."

"So that's what he meant when he said you had been 'unavoidably detained.'" Then something else occurred to me.

"Andrew. He told me we wouldn't have to worry about Julia anymore. Have you heard from her?" 

"Shit," he said, pulling out his phone. It rang six times and then went to voicemail. Hi, it's Julia, you know what to do.

"God!" I cried, putting my head in my hands. "We have to help her, Andrew. There's no telling what he's done to her. She would've been here by now."

Andrew stood up and held his hand out to me. I took it and stood up, my knees quivering. He slid his arm around my waist to steady me. "You okay?

"Yeah. Can we call the cops on the way?" I asked, shoving my feet into the closest pair of shoes.

Andrew nodded and grabbed my car keys. "Let's go," he said, dragging me out the door into the cold, wearing only his thin, gray t-shirt.