Bent not Broken (303 page)

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Authors: Lisa de Jong

BOOK: Bent not Broken
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Jogging to the front door, I throw it open and slow my retreat as my leg begins to throb. I limp down my stairs and out into my yard and turn, spitting his blood from my mouth as I do. And I wait. I wait for that bastard to recover and follow me out.

He doesn’t make me wait long. “You fucking bitch!” he snarls at me. “You were never anything more than a little cock tease.” He’s seething and stumbling down my stairs.

“I bet your stupid ass is sober now,” I say with a laugh. I’m so damn proud of myself, but I stop short of doing a little jig cause my leg is killing me and I still need him to leave.

“I can’t believe you did that shit, Celeste,” he whines, wiping at his mouth and holding his crotch.

I laugh. “Really? You can’t believe I stopped you from sexually assaulting me?” I scream. “That’s rich, William. Get the hell off my property before you have more than a busted lip and a sore dick.”

“Listen to yourself. He’s already corrupted you. You used to be a lady.”

“If being a lady means letting you get off on me while I am freaking out and sobbing, then I’m thrilled to relinquish that title. Now, get the hell off my property, you low life bastard.”

“What would my brother think of you talking to me like that? You think my brother would let you throw me out of his home?”

“If only I knew what your brother thought of all this. But I bet it would be pretty close to what he thought when I told him what you did to me all those years ago. I was too weak to fight you off then. But not now, William.”

“Wait…what do you mean about Tripp? You told him what we did?”

“What
we
did?” I screech. “You attacked me, held me down, and made me masturbate you! Yes, I told him. And he hated you for it. I wouldn’t let him do anything because—”

“You little bitch!” He rages and pales right before my eyes. “You probably made me out to be a pervert when all it was just me being a horny teenager. A lot of people do it. You need to let it go.”

Is he freaking kidding me?
“How can I let it go? You never once apologized to me. Never once asked for my forgiveness. You acted like you had a right to do that to me. And fool that I was, I let you get away with that.” I take a calming breath and change my tone to one that I pray implies strength and sincerity because I mean every word of what I’m about to say. “Hear me now when I say this, William. If you ever lay your hands or any other part of your anatomy on me again, I’ll fucking kill you.” I lean toward him as I snap out my threat, but I don’t get any closer than that. I don’t want to breathe the same air as he breathes.

“Whatever, bitch. I’m done with you,” he mutters and moves around me.

Not taking any chances on what else he’d do to me, I spin and follow him with my eyes. When he staggers far enough down the street, I feel myself sag with relief.

My eyes burning with unshed tears of relief and my heart burning, I turn to head back into my house. I feel beads of perspiration break out on my forehead and under my arms. Adrenaline. Thank you, God, for adrenaline. As my foot lands on that first step, I feel a shooting pain radiate up my leg. I bend and pull my pants up to assess the damage. I gasp as I realize just how bad it is. An eggplant—the blood that has gathered has formed something that resembles the shape and size of an eggplant on my shin.
Great! I just had to have a sturdy table that the boys couldn’t move around, didn’t I?

A faint whisper pulls me from my inner tirade. “Did he do that to you?”

My head flies up and I freeze. Archer is in a fighting stance with a baseball bat extended from his rigid form. He’s not even looking at my face but at my leg.

“Archer, honey…” I drift off. I don’t even know what to say. How much did he see? Oh, God, how much did he hear? Not only had that bastard stolen my innocence, but now he’s also claimed my baby’s. To think, I was just wondering if it were possible to hate him more than I already do. I push my pants leg back down and climb the steps to put my arms around him. Resting my chin on his head and turn and run my cheek over his soft, dark brown hair. “Come on, honey. Let’s go inside.”

I get Archer settled on the couch, tell him I’ll be right back, and walk down the hall to check on Paris and Finn. After I ascertain that they’ve remained blissfully ignorant to all that has transpired and thank God for small favors, I return to Archer and sit beside him quietly. I think it best to let him talk it out rather than start making assumptions and telling him what and how to feel about all that has happened. Grabbing his hand, I sit and wait for a few minutes. It’s killing me. I begin to think maybe he’s in shock and decide I should start talking when he says one simple thing that shatters my heart into a million tiny pieces.

“Dad would have never treated you that way,” he whispers raggedly. He finally turns and makes eye contact with me. Kind dark brown eyes that mirror his father’s are brimming with tears. “I miss Dad.”

He becomes blurry as my own eyes water. “Sweetie, I know you do. And you’re right. Dad would’ve never treated me that way. What Uncle William did was not very nice.”
Understatement of the year!
I think.

“Don’t call him my uncle,” he says coldly.

“All right, honey. William is mixed up between right and wrong, and he drinks too much. What he did was wrong. He’ll feel bad about it tomorrow.” I almost choke on the lie, but what do you tell your twelve-year-old son about a twisted person whom they happen to be related to?

“I’ve never liked him. Now I know why,” he says sagely. “I was about to come after him, Mom, but I saw that you had him under control.” I wince as I imagine him “coming after” William. That would have been bad.

“I’m so sorry that you had to see that. Please know that it will never happen again. I promise to only surround us with good people.”

He chews on that for a moment. “Adrian would never treat you that way either.”

My heart does flips as I hear him say this. He loves Adrian so much, and he’s such a good influence on him. “You’re a good judge of character, sweetheart. Adrian wouldn’t treat me that way either.”

I give Archer a kiss and bring him back to his room and tuck him in. I make my way through the house, turning off all the lights, double-checking all the locks, all the while feeling something building inside me. It’s ugly and scary and reminds me of the Devil himself. I’m terrified by what I feel right now, and I can’t even put a name on this emotion.

Easing myself into the shower, I begin to wash the extraordinarily long day away. What a naïve little fool I am, thinking I could have a little something for myself, whether it be Bradford or Adrian. What was I thinking?

Closing my eyes, I feel my tears mix with the water that cascades over my face. Thinking back to that scared little girl in that dark closet who was forced to help a depraved young man masturbate, I turn my face up to the water and bite my lip hard as whimpers start to bubble from me. I open my mouth to release them but all that erupts is a silent scream. Bending over, I start gagging. I grasp my abdomen as the contents of my stomach swirl around the drain. I close my eyes and purge myself. Finally, I succumb to all that I’m feeling and I’m on my hands and knees, heaving and crying and praying.

Nine

A Bittersweet Cocoon

STANDING AT THE island, I roll my eyes as my mother asks me yet another invasive question about Bradford. Popping another piece of cheese into my mouth, I grant myself a reprieve from answering her. Just being around her causes me to regress about twenty years.

“Celeste, dear, you’ve had enough cheese for now, don’t you think?”

I roll my eyes again. When I’m finished reacting like a moody teenager, my eyes fall on Bonnie and Farah. Their reactions are so different it’s priceless. Bonnie is mocking my mom by pulling her skin taunt and narrowing her eyes at me. Farah’s eyes fly down to the most interesting head of lettuce she’s ever shredded. I laugh aloud at all of our ridiculousness. How a parent can instantly take away your adulthood and make you feel as small as a child is beyond me. I hope I never have this effect on my kids.

My mother spins from her place beside Maureen and cuts a look at all of us. “I don’t see anything funny about watching your figure. I don’t weigh anymore today than I did when I was in college.”

This elicits a whole new round of laughter from Bonnie and me. Farah is still too young to be irreverent. “Mother, no one should weigh what they weighed in her twenties. I was a stick then. I quite like my curves, thank you very much.” I punctuate that by popping another piece of cheese into my mouth and humming, “Mmm…”

“Really, girls,” she chastises. “And you never did answer my questions,” she reminds me. “Maureen, make sure to slice those cucumbers real thin, now. Celeste, Bradford?”

“Yes, Ms. Claire,” she says as she exchanges a knowing look with me. I love that woman. She may be my parents’ live in housekeeper, but she’d been there for me more than my mother ever had.

“Bradford went to law school at Ole Miss. He practices entertainment law and does quite well. He’s never been married and is thirty-five,” I spit out.

“Ole Miss,” she replies with contempt. “Are you two serious?” she asks. I roll my eyes again.
Let’s focus on the fact that he went to a rival college, shall we?

“They haven’t even kissed,” Bonnie offers.

“Thanks, Bon,” I say sarcastically.

“Why haven’t you kissed?” Farah asks. “He obviously likes you. Do you not feel the same?”

I busy myself with taking Adrian’s ranch out of the refrigerator. I can’t believe my mother hadn’t thrown it out. It was a good question. One I, unfortunately, didn’t have the answer to. I couldn’t tell them that when I was with Bradford I felt like I was cheating on Adrian. How could you cheat on someone you couldn’t be with? “We’re taking it slow,” I reply. “That’s why he drove out with Louis, and we’re kind of keeping our distance. I want the boys to get to know him on a non-threatening level for a bit before I introduce him as someone I am dating.”

“I think that’s wise,” Farah says. Bonnie knowingly cuts her eyes at me.

“Well, in my day, there was none of this sneaking around and taking time sort of thing. You were either together or you weren’t,” my mother says.

“We’re not sneaking around, Mother. And it’s different. I have young, impressionable children depending on me. I have to be careful.”

“Dear, I know it may seem strange because Tripp and he are brothers, but have you considered William?” My movements freeze upon hearing William’s name. He was out there somewhere today on this very property. It’s part of the reason I didn’t want to be here. But it was our annual Labor Day celebration, so I felt obligated to attend. Slowly, my eyes search out Bonnie’s and she gives me a sympathetic smile. “Celeste?” My mother prompts. It had been three days, and I still hadn’t told Bonnie about William’s latest endeavors to win me over. I was so embarrassed. “I mean who better to rear Tripp’s children than his own brother?” My eyes shoot over to my mother’s, and I see eyes that mirror mine in color and shape. I could only pray that that look had never been exuded from mine—cold, calculating, shrewd, manipulative.

“Mother—” I’m cut off by the boys excited voices heading this way. “I don’t want to talk about him, Mother, not now, not ever. Do you understand?”

My mother gives a jaded, little laugh. “Really, Celeste, that was—”

“I mean it, Mother. Don’t.”

About that time, the boys reach the kitchen; and I’m distracted by Adrian removing a clinging Paris from his back. I give him a relieved smile that is short-lived when a fast-moving Finn barrels into my shin. I cry out in sheer pain as my recent injury throbs with a beating pulse. I spin toward the windows and stare out unseeing, trying desperately to control the pain coursing through my leg, the tears in my eyes, and the perspiration that has gathered on my forehead.

Maureen is at my elbow in a second. “Celeste, you all right, sweetie?” I just nod.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Finn apologizes and rubs my back soothingly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?”

I pinch my lips together. I want to assure him that I’m OK, but I’m not and know if I open my mouth I may start sobbing. So I take a deep breath, nod my head at him, and turn to take him in, but as I do, Archer’s terrified expression catches me off guard, and a furious one from Adrian soon distracts me from Archer. Adrian slowly leans up from his folded stance over Archer. His gaze never leaves mine. And I know. I know that Archer has divulged our little secret. One that I hadn’t asked him to keep but had hoped that he would.

Shaking my head at Adrian, I start to move toward him only to have him backing away from me. If I weren’t a stronger woman, I would have disintegrated into a pile of ash with his scorching look. He isn’t moving fast, so I don’t either. I just follow him out of the room, but when I hit the hallway, he is gone. I hear the side door slam, so I take off after him.

As I hit the top step, I see him disappear into the barn. Launching myself down the steps, I wince with every jarring step; but I have to get to him. I sprint across the yard slinging the barn door open as I reach it. Wanting to maintain some privacy, I quickly close it behind me.

Breathing hard and frozen in the middle of room, Adrian has his arms extended from his sides, but his eyes are frantically searching the room like he’s looking to exact more destruction. My eyes follow his to the disarray of shovels and axes and barrels and pitchforks. I’m impressed. He was able to do quite a bit of damage in the short time it took me to get over here.

“Don’t come near me,” he says, his voice dripping with anger. Those eyes dark and troubled as an angry ocean train themselves somewhere over my head.

“Adrian, I don’t know what Archer—”

“He told me that William hurt you and that you told him William was not a nice person who’d be very sorry for what he did to you. But we both know that is bullshit. William will never be sorry for what he did on his own…but he will be sorry, Cel. That bastard will be very sorry,” he promises. His eyes finally focus on me, and I see understanding there. However, his menacing tone and his scathing look have me shivering.

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