Saved By A Bad Boy

[43]. Escape...

Trigger Warning: This Chapter Contains Scenes Depicting Sexual Trauma

"Hey, baby girl." That's how Troy had greeted me the first night he came into my room. I was sitting on my bed, painting, and then all of a sudden, he was in the doorway. I didn't think anything of it, at first. I assumed that those were just regular terms of endearment.

Oh, how stupid I was.

"It's late. Shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked. I just shrugged.

"I'm trying to finish my project," I told him. He took a look at my canvas, sliding all the way inside my room and quietly shutting the door behind him.

"That's a real work of art," he said. And then his intense eyes met with mine. "Just like you." He had come closer, so now he was standing right beside my bed. A strange feeling churned in my gut. I didn't like it.

"Th-thanks," I whispered. All of a sudden, he had hooked my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"You're a beautiful girl," he continued. I swallowed. "You look like your mom, in some ways. But you're even more special. You know that, right?" I didn't know how to respond to that. He loved my mom...didn't he?

"Oh," I barely whispered, because that was all I could manage.

I didn't think Troy would do anything else. Or maybe I just hoped he wouldn't. And that night, that first night, he didn't do much at all. Not compared to what he would do in the future. He just kissed me once, and then spooned me until the early morning hours.

That was it. And yet, it was already far too much.

< < < > > >

I woke up with my hands tied behind my back. I was fastened to a chair. At first, I had no idea what was happening, or where I was. I was almost stupid enough to call for Jax. But if Jax was here...I wouldn't be tied to a chair.

I moved my lips. My mouth was dry and void of moisture. My neck ached already, and my head was throbbing. What...happened?

I blinked, dazed, trying to bring my surroundings into focus. A dark room, like a basement. Nothing was down here except for some boxes and a tired old couch, with a single man sitting on its cushions.

"Oh, thank goodness you're awake." Troy stood up and started walking toward me, staggering slightly. His flannel shirt had moth holes gnawing away the fabric. Dark lines were resting below his eyes. Even in the dim light, I could see his unkempt beard poking out of his jawline. I felt my heart pick up pace almost instantly. Fear flung through every part of my body. No. No, no, no,no.

His thumb brushed my cheek. I already felt like throwing up. He had a cup of water in his hand, with a straw sticking out of it.

"Go on. Take a sip, Cherry. I don't want those pretty lips of yours getting all dried up," he whispered, nudging my mouth with the straw. It took too much thinking, to figure out what to do. My brain was slow in processing, but I managed to suck some water up, letting it relieve my parched tongue. And then it wasn't the straw on my mouth anymore, but he had replaced it with his lips. I quickly jerked away, but his hands came up to capture my face. "Not so fast, Cherry. Come on. I know you want this."

"No, no, I don't," I said, my voice strong even though I didn't feel strong at all. Troy frowned, and too my utter relief (and surprise), he actually pulled away again.