Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Still struggling, his hand tightens over my mouth. Tears form in my eyes and my body shakes. Pulling the side of my face into his cheek, he sways with me, gently rocking me from side to side. “Ssssh. Just watch.”
Closing my eyes a long moment, I realize I’m not getting out of this until I do as he says. So sniffling, I open my eyes and take in the sight through the crack in the door.
My heart skips a beat. Anger surges through my veins like liquid lava singeing my insides. I’m appalled. And heartbroken.
I need to call the police.
Lexi’s rigid body shakes with soundless cries as we watch through the crack in the door. Wrapping my arm around her, I rock her in what I hope is an attempt at soothing her.
I’m not very good at things like that.
It’s not a pretty sight. And part of me hopes to God that she’ll see this through with me.
Regardless of what she thinks, she is strong.
She is perfect.
I knew she would be.
It’s a lot to take in. But she will find a way to cope. I know it.
And I’ll be there, guiding her all the while.
Closing my eyes, I try to block out the image now burned into my brain. Unable to hold it back, I cry in complete silence, my body shaking against the tall man who I suddenly hate.
I feel ill. And helpless. And morose.
But above any of those feelings, I hate Twitch.
Covering my mouth with one hand, he reaches across my chest to hold my shoulder while he gently rocks me, cooing. “Ssssh, Angel. I know it’s hard. I just need you to watch a little longer.”
I cry harder.
Who is this beast?
I know Twitch has issues. Deep seeded issues. But I never imagined how far those roots stem.
I should’ve listened to Nikki when she told me not to make this man a project.
His lips touch the shell of my ear and he whispers, “You gotta trust me, Lex.” His voice pleads. “Open your eyes.”
I want to screech ‘Fuck you!’…but something in his voice tells me to do as he says. So I do.
And my throat thickens. So thick that I can’t swallow.
The scene before me is horrific.
Ling lies on her stomach in the middle of the king-sized bed held in the pristine room. Her little black dress is ripped and left in tatters on her mostly-naked body. One long silken glove has come off, the other hanging off her straining fingers. Her pretty face is distorted by the distress and anguish she is experiencing at this moment.
My heart breaks for her.
My eyes refuse to blink, and tears trail down my cheeks.
I want to call out. I want her to know she isn’t alone. I want to yell for help. But above all, I want to kick the shit out of the brute of a man holding her arm twisted behind her back as he drives into her brutally.
No, strike that. I want to kill that man.
I’m positive that if I had a gun at this moment, I would use it. Not to defend. Not to maim. But to kill.
My gaze drifts over her body a moment before it settles back on her face. Silently sobbing, her voice strained and weak, she pleads, “Please. Please stop. Don’t do this.”
As if Twitch can sense my resolve breaking, his hand tightens over my mouth and he whispers, “Just a little longer. Then we can walk away.”
But I can’t stop my body from reacting. Wrenching my arms as hard as I can, I struggle with the strong man. To no avail. So when he nips my ear hard, a muffled cry escapes me. That’s when he growls, “She wants it. Watch!”
Oh God! He’s one of those psycho stalker guys who rapes women then says they wanted it!
The man holding Ling down is more than twice her petite size; there’s no way she could fight him, even if she wanted to. A sinking in my gut takes me back to those weeks ago when Twitch saved me from that…that...fucking monster who attacked me.
So why won’t he help now?
The man holds her arm twisted awkwardly behind her back as he thrusts into her. And with every thrust, a look of pain covers her mascara stained face. Her lipstick smeared down her chin, she has a fat lip. The man has visible scratch marks on his chest; dark red covers those scratches and I feel a little satisfaction in knowing that she marked him.
Suddenly, Ling reaches back with her free arm and pounds the side of her fist into his hip. The attempt is so weak that her arm flops down. She’s exhausted. Exhausted from fighting.
I can’t watch anymore.
Closing my eyes, Twitch’s hand drops from my mouth down to my chin, where his fingers hold it steadily. Almost forcefully, he shakes my chin harshly, “I told you to watch. Now fucking watch.”