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.”
My eyes snap open and what I see then changes everything.
Ling’s eyes open wide, her mouth rounds in an O, and she says, “Do it! Do it, motherfucker!”
The man smirks, flips her over, plunges back inside of little weak Ling, rears his arm back, and slaps her across the face.
Pressure builds in my ears. My eyes widen in shock. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
She gasps loudly, then moans lustfully. He leans over her small body and fucks her hard. Fucks her like he hates her. With his extremely muscular arms on either side of her head supporting him, she leans up and their mouths clash in a vicious kiss.
I suddenly feel rude. As if I’m intruding on a special moment between the two. I haven’t even noticed that Twitch no longer holds me tightly, but has both arms wrapped around my waist with his lips at my temple.
The man snarls and I’m drawn back to the live show. Ling’s eyes flash in excitement before her face contorts once more in fear. Ever the actress, she begs, “No more. Please! No more. I can’t take it.”
The man’s hand slides across the cheek he had slapped and caresses it a moment before his arm rears back once more, and I don’t watch this time. Closing my eyes, I black out what is about to happen.
Smack!
Whimpers fill the air, and Ling cries out, “Oh God! Yes!”
Peeking, I watch Ling’s back come off the bed; her eyes flutter a moment before she jerks uncontrollably, moaning all the while. The man grits his teeth. “Fuck yeah! Come on my cock, babe. Milk me.”
His body stills, his ass clenches, and tipping his head back, he roars as his body thrusts fitfully into the spent body that is Ling.
Feeling as worn as the two panting and lying in a tangle on the bed, my body weakens from the current state of emotions rushing through my head. I lean back into Twitch. With a squeeze to my waist, he leads me away from the mess in front of me and back to his bedroom.
I know what he wants.
I know it should happen.
But I’m dreading this talk.
Fucking Ling.
Always messing with me. Always messing with what’s important to me. I have no idea why I keep her around. The bitch is more trouble than she’s worth.
You know why you keep her around.
Yeah. I guess I do. We’re alike in many ways. Not all, but we get each other.
Squeezing Lexi’s waist, I lead her down the hall until we stand in front of my room. Slowly, as to not spook her, I reach forward and open the door. Not saying a word, she allows me to walk her in and I shut the door behind us.
Letting go of her, I walk over to my bed and sit on the edge. But Lexi just stands there, by the dresser, staring into nothingness.
“Lexi, come over here.”
Nothing. She stands where she is. The light in her eyes has dimmed so much that I wonder if I’ve broken her so soon in our game.
“Come here, Lexi. Sit with me. We’ll talk.”
Relief and disappointment both pass through me as her brows furrow. “I- I don’t understand,” she says softly.
I state, “You wouldn’t.”
Taking a step back, she bumps into the dresser. “He was hurting her. He was—” Her eyes lose focus. “And she was… He hit her and she… I don’t understand.”