to truly be alone among the Harrisons.
Olivia makes me tea, and Niall keeps the boys occupied—to allow my heart time to heal.
The wind picks up just after the boys go up to bed, the once-impending storm finally making its debut.
“Oh, Kaden left the lights on at the cottage,” Olivia announces when I enter the living room where Maggie and I are planning to watch movies with a huge bowl of popcorn that she’s currently preparing in the kitchen, determined to do it the “old-fashioned way” over the stovetop, promising it will be the best popcorn I’ve ever had.
“I’ll go,” I say, sliding my sandals on.
I’m out the door before anyone can protest, not that I’d expect them to. This isn’t the weather for two pregnant women to be traipsing out in, and Niall is still upstairs, reading to the boys.
The wind blows me back as soon as I step clear of the patio. My hair whips around my face as I follow the familiar path to the cottage. The rain has yet to fall, but I can feel the heaviness in the air, threatening to unleash a deluge.
I rush as fast as I can, wanting to be back at the main house before the sky opens up.
Shutting the door behind me, I walk toward the room. I freeze when I find Damon seated in the dark on the couch with his feet propped up, facing the window that looks out on the storm-enraged sea. I stutter in my steps, not wanting to be anywhere near him.
I turn to leave without saying a word. Hoping he hasn’t noticed me.
“Did you like what you saw?” he asks.
I swallow, unable to move.
A board creaks. I reach for the doorknob, my hand shaking from either nerves or cold—I’m uncertain.
“Well, did you?” He’s right behind me. His hot breath on my neck, the burning smell of liquor wafting up my nostrils.
I open the door. He slams his hand against it, shutting it with a resounding bang.
“I didn’t know you were here,” I say quietly.
“But you had to look.” His body is pressed against my back. I take a step forward, but an arm traps me against him. “You thought I might be him, screwing your friend, didn’t you?” His mouth brushes against my ear. “Already done that.”
“Let me go, Damon.” I force my voice to have more strength than is felt within my quivering body.
“I don’t think so,” he mutters, nudging my chin to the side to suck on my neck.
I attempt to twist out of his grasp, but he binds me with his other arm, pinning my limbs to my sides.
Damon picks me up and remains unaffected by my kicks and screams as he carries me into the bedroom. The only room with the lamp still on. He grips my hair at my scalp, ripping hair from its roots. Tears flood my eyes. He yanks my head back so that I’m forced to view our reflection in the mirror. I’m paralyzed by the terror staring back at me. Tears drip from her chin.
“You like to watch?” He lowers his mouth to my neck.
I sob loudly, whimpering, my body quaking. I fight to break free. His hands bruise my skin. My twisting and thrashing exhaust me while they strengthen him. The more I resist, the more eager he becomes.
“Please don’t,” I plead, choking on the bedding when his weight presses me into it, his hand gripping my wrists behind my back. My shoulders strain, and my skin burns. “No, please, no.” But my words hold no power. They are as useless as the muscles, too weak to fight with affect.
And so … I don’t.
I stare blankly at the vacant eyes of the girl in the mirror as he jerks my head back, tearing more hair from my scalp—forcing me to watch. The world rages outside. But inside of me … there is silence. I have locked away every emotion. The anger. The fear. The sadness. Secured in a vault hidden deep within. Safeguarding the key. Leaving a hollow shell of a girl to his abuse. His violation.
Time slips while everything remains frozen, trapped in this moment—as posed as a picture.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
Time collides with the rush of movement, snapping me back to the present. The sound of a zipper as Damon fastens his pants. Maggie’s wide eyes in the mirror. I scurry to cover my nakedness, previously unaware he removed my dress. The mirror reflects the floral pattern pooled on the