I raise an eyebrow to challenge him, but whatever happened on that phone call has him all worked up.
“Are you going to tell me what happened? You said you saw a picture. What the hell does that even mean?” I ask trying to get some kind of information. Mason doesn’t say anything, but when I see he left his phone lying on the end of the bed in his caveman state, I grab it. Scrolling through while he tosses more of my clothes in the bag, my body goes numb.
“No! I won’t let it happen again!” I nearly scream when the next picture comes into view. Tears are slipping down my cheeks as my heart races faster. I didn’t realize that I said that out loud until Mason pulls the phone from my hand and stuffs it into his jeans.
“I’m not lettin’ that happen to you again. Ever. Do you hear me? Look at me Whit. That shit? It’s the past. It will never happen again. You get me?”
I can’t look at him. After everything I’ve told him and then he had to see it with his own eyes. My body trembles as that night replays in my mind. The look in Alvaro’s eyes, the hate that he held inside of him. That picture was taken without me even knowing. It’s me, sprawled out, being held down. One man holds each wrist and ankle while the others fucked me mercilessly. He saw it. The thought of Mason seeing it makes my stomach roll. What must he think of me now? Does he truly believe I’m the whore they all claim me to be? His hands grip my face and he roughly pulls my eyes up to meet him.
“Whatever you’re fuckin’ thinkin’ you need to stop Whitley. I’ll take care of him. He isn’t goin’ to touch you. You’re mine now. You’re not his. Do you understand me?” I nod my head absently because I don’t know what else to do. Mason releases me and grabs the bags. I’m not Mason’s. How could he possibly want me after what he’s seen?
“Jackson let’s move,” Mason roars, shoving past me. Mason moves toward the door with me right behind him. My mind is spinning a million miles a minute.
“I’ll drive the car,” Jackson announces, and takes my bags from Mason.
The two of them head out of the door until Mason realizes I’m not behind him. He stands in the doorway with his eyes burning holes straight through me. My insides tremble as the past comes rushing at me all at once. It’s as if the air is being pulled from my lungs. The room sways and spins. I can vaguely hear Mason calling my name, but then he isn’t Mason anymore. My body shakes as I fall to the floor and voices and faces swarm my vision. No, this can’t be happening again.
“You smell so good,” Alvaro mumbled, his lips close to my ear. “You smell of a freshly fucked whore. How do you feel, mi amor?” How can he even ask me that?
“I want to go home,” I tell him as tears stream down my cheeks.
“Oh mi amor, that will fix nothing. You are what I made you to be. You will forever be my personal slut. Whoring yourself to please me is what you do, don’t you?” If I had any strength I would slap him, but I don’t.
“Just let me go home. I hate you,” I say as I cry harder. The back of his hand slamming into my face makes me see bright lights in my vision.
“You hate me? No Whitley, you love me. Remember me fucking you on your daddy’s floor the first time when you were thirteen? Taking you so hard that you wanted to scream, but you were afraid that your daddy would hear you. Then daddy gave you to me, right? You remember this, yes? You don’t hate me, you love me, and I will always love you. I must go back to Cuba now.”
“I don’t want to go to Cuba,” I sob as Alvaro laughs.
“Stupid girl, do you really think I’d bring my whore home to my wife? I’ll return for you one day.” His lips linger on my forehead as his words rip my heart out. His wife? He’s married?
“Whitley!” That voice. I know that voice. Slowly pulling my eyes open I panic. Jumping up to a sitting position I slide up the bed trying to figure out where I am. “Whit, look