Page 157 of Hard to Hold
“I’m sure you’ve seen the scars on my back. I don’t think about them much anymore because I rarely see them, but I’ll never forget how they got there.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and met Rhys’s eyes in the dimly lit room.
I could see the same fury that had ignited in my gut burning brightly in the man’s dark eyes. This was another story, another reason Kelly Jackson needed to be stopped. I wasn’t sure prison was enough for the bastard.
In fact, I wasn’t sure Hell was enough punishment for the bastard, but it was a damn good start.
Amy
My bones were frozen, the nightmare having taken its toll on me. I hated those damn dreams, the reminders of what I'd lived through, what Kelly had done to me. As much as I hated talking about them, it did help. More so when I shared with Rhys and Wolfe. They didn’t make me feel the shame I'd been consumed with for so long.
“The first time it happened, I was in the kitchen washing dishes,” I began, the memory taking over, carrying me right back to that horrific day.
“You done in there yet?” Kelly called from his spot in front of the television.
That was where he went every day after dinner. I was expected to have it ready for him, and it couldn’t be the same thing he’d had at any point in the past month. And he insisted it was fresh meat and vegetables. Nothing frozen, no cans. I hadn’t been much of a cook before I met him, but after, I'd had no choice but to learn.
“Almost,” I answered softly, making sure there was no heat in my tone, although I hated that he questioned me all the time. The water was on in the sink; he should know I wasn’t finished yet.
“I want the bathroom done next. It’s filthy.”
I rolled my eyes as I stared out the window. The bathroom wasn’t filthy, because I had cleaned it two days ago when Kelly had found a drop of conditioner on the glass shower door. At that point, he had insisted that I get on my hands and knees and scrub the entire bathroom.
“Did you hear me?” he yelled.
I glanced over my shoulder to see him on the couch, bare foot propped on the coffee table. I wanted to tell him to clean the bathroom himself, but I knew better.
“I heard you,” I answered, scrubbing the pan from dinner.
The water must have masked the sound of his approach, because I didn’t even know he was behind me until he grabbed my hair and jerked my head back.
“Did you just talk back to me?”
“N-no. No, of course not.” Fire burned my scalp as he yanked me backward.
Then it was gone because he shoved me forward. My soapy hand slipped on the edge of the kitchen sink, and I fell forward, my cheek hitting the faucet.
“Get in the goddamn bathroom and clean it up!”
“I…” I pushed myself up. “I have to finish the dishes. I’m almost done.”
Admittedly, my tone wasn’t as submissive as I normally was, but the anger was building, and I couldn’t seem to contain it.
Kelly’s fist slammed down on the lever controlling the water and the sink shut off. When I reached for a hand towel, he grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh.
“Kelly … don’t. Please. I’ll clean it.”
“You’re goddamn right you will. And when you’re finished, you’ll get the punishment you deserve. The punishment I should’ve given you a long damn time ago.” He jerked me toward the bathroom.
When we reached it, he shoved me, sending me slamming into the wooden door. A sob threatened, but I held it back as I turned and slipped inside. I knew better than to close the door. I was never allowed to close the door. Not when I showered or used the bathroom. He insisted that he always be able to see me. That was the reason for the cameras everywhere.
I felt the two men beside me move closer, their arms holding me tightly. It was their presence that made the memory bearable. I knew I would never have to endure that ever again.
“After I cleaned the bathroom, he made me strip. Said I was dirty. I told him I would shower, but he said no. Said that would happen after my punishment.” I took a deep breath. “When he pulled out the whip, I freaked. He had hit me plenty of times and had used various things. A belt, a flyswatter, a ruler, a wooden spoon. Whatever he could find close by. But a whip… I was terrified.”
Neither man said anything, but I felt the tension in their bodies.
“I tried to run, but he caught me. I kicked and screamed, but he tied me to the bed. He kept ropes there because that was his thing. He sat on me while he secured me in place, facedown on the mattress. I never stopped fighting, never stopped screaming. I kept hoping that one day someone would hear me. The mailman, UPS driver, solicitor, Jehovah’s Witness. I didn’t care, I just wanted someone to hear me, someone to stop him. No one ever did.
