Read Online His Kidnapper's Shoes by Maggie James - Free Book Online

my legs, rubbing fiercely, scrubbing away the vestiges of the repulsive flabby man with the musty breath and sweaty body, making myself even sorer but I didn’t care. I could hear you outside, Gran, pounding on the door.
    At last, I turned off the shower and opened the door and stood in front of you, still dripping, a towel wrapped around my body. You looked into my face and you understood, without me telling you, what had happened. You pulled me to you and walked me into your bedroom, sitting me down on the bed.
    It all came pouring out then, Gran, and I told you about him, about the vile man who had seized his chance with a vulnerable girl half his size. I told you how disgusting he had been, how he’d hurt me. How I thought you’d make me go to the police and that was why I’d taken the shower, to wash away any evidence, because no matter how hard you tried to make me, I would never press charges against my rapist. He’d have to go unpunished because however cowardly it might be, I didn’t have the strength to go to the police, even with you at my side.
    I've never been sure you really understood how I felt about that. You were reliving the horror you had gone through when my mother came to you bruised, bloody and battered after the gang rape. You were furious, mad at the man who had taken your precious granddaughter and treated her like shit stuck to his shoe. You stroked your fingers over the bruises on my wrists and you swore; something you never did normally. You told me he shouldn’t get away with it but I think you knew you were fighting a losing battle. The shower had swilled down the plughole any pubic hairs or anything else that could place my rapist, panting and sweating like the vile pig he was, on top of me. Without evidence, it really did come down to his word against mine.
    I woke up the next morning and knew I’d have to tell you about my pregnancy.
    We sat in the window seat after breakfast, clutching steaming mugs of coffee, and I told you about Matt, how I’d thought I’d loved him. Unable to look you in the eyes, I told you about the baby. How Matt had wanted me to get rid of it, but how I couldn’t contemplate abortion as an option. Not for a second. You didn’t let me down. No judgement; no lecture about how I should have been more careful. You put down your coffee mug, pulling me to you, whispering into my hair how everything would be all right. You said I could come and live with you and you’d help me with the baby. Then you didn’t say anything for a long while, just held me tight and I knew I’d found what I’d come for.

8
     
     
     
    FIRST MEMORIES
     
     
     
     
    Sex ended up coming first, before the full English breakfast. Daniel woke up with his usual morning wood, and Katie was horny too, but that was typical of her. She was nothing like the bimbos he'd dated before, who wouldn’t contemplate sex unless perfectly groomed and made-up. Katie was ready for it any time of day. She’d never turned him down yet. Daniel recognised it was more than the fact he was easy on the eye and good in the sack. Katie was a sexual being, through and through, like him. She needed sex - hot, dirty and frequent - the same way she needed food and air.
    The sex that morning certainly turned out hot and dirty. Katie kept her word, springing a new sexual stunt on him even he, with his extensive experience between the sheets, hadn’t tried before. It was mid-morning before they emerged from her bedroom, hair messed up and bodies sweaty, but too hungry to head for the shower.
    Katie got going on breakfast. He watched her as she moved around the kitchen. So much for saying she’d never do that sort of thing.
    Sometimes he thought Katie had the power to read his mind. ‘Look what you’ve done to me, Dan. I’ve turned into your mother already. Not sure how or when that happened.’
    Daniel snorted. ‘Trust me, Katie, you are nothing like her.’
    She handed him his breakfast. ‘About your