Read Online Scarred (Lost Series Book 2) by LeTeisha Newton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: LeTeisha Newton
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beside me and I covered my face with my hands.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he said.
I couldn’t, not anymore. He was going to kill me..
“Please, Derrick, just stop. I promise I didn’t cheat.”
It was useless to argue with him, but I was afraid, so very afraid. I didn’t want to hurt anymore; I didn’t want to be his punching bag. Five years of it was enough. He grabbed one of my hands and pulled it from my face. I covered as best I could with the other, but nothing stopped the punch. I bit my tongue and blood filled my mouth. Finally I could heave, tossing up everything out of my stomach.
“I’ll teach you, bitch. I’ll teach you right and good.”
He swung again, and stars swam in my vision. Each strike made me wish for the oblivion of sleep, to be free of him. Maybe if I did die, the pain would stop. I lost all of the meaning in my life because of him, and I didn’t trust anyone anymore.
“River wake up!”
Screaming, I slammed into reality, the darkness giving way to bright lights. I couldn’t get my bearings as I clenched my eyes shut and fought off my nightmare. I could still feel Derrick’s hands around my neck and smell the scent of alcohol on his breath. I couldn't shake the memory that I almost died that night. The only thing that stopped Derrick was a homeless man coming back to go to sleep. Bless that man, but he screamed like a banshee until people started showing up in the alley.
I disappeared among their number, leaving everything behind, and taking my first step towards freedom. It was the first string of lucky events that night that helped me get away. The off-duty nurse who saw the fear in my eyes and took me home to fix up. The organization she got in touch with that gave me a thousand dollars, a bus ticket, and clothes to disappear. And, finally, the handler who taught me to flip drinks like a pro so I could go anywhere, before sending me on my way so they could help the next woman.
And now, as I looked up into Ethan’s hard face, I knew all of their efforts had gone to shit.
“Let me go. I’m good now.”
He did as I asked, but kept his eyes on me. His stare was uncomfortable and I looked away. I didn’t want him to see what was inside of me. He already took so much. I came apart at the seams, tossed into pleasure I never knew as he held me down and spanked me on the very bed I cowered on. He was just as much a devil as the demon fucking up my dreams.
And I knew he didn’t give one shit about my fear. He couldn’t care less that his treatment of me had rehashed so many bad memories. Because for him, it was as simple as it pleasing him, and I got some sort of sick pleasure from it. That was enough for him to take my choices away. He was worse than Derrick. At least I hated and feared Derrick enough that everything he did no longer could turn me off. It didn’t make me want to displease him just so I could enjoy his punishment.
With Ethan, that was exactly what I wanted.
Even now, I could feel my body tightening up, looking over his ravaged body. He was a work of fractured art, a fucking connect-the-dots of wounds and old scar tissue over rippling muscle, and I wanted to trace a path between each nick. I wanted to feel the odd, smooth texture of the burn marks on him, trace the ridged rim of his puncture wounds. I knew Ethan was a monster, a beautiful disaster more imperfect than perfect, and he set me on fire. There was no way I could deny that.
And that was what made me more terrified of him than I ever was of Derrick.
“You were dreaming of him, in my bed.”
I swallowed, my mouth going dry. What could I say to that? How could I appease his anger when I’d been helpless? When he’d been the one to cause it all?
“I’m sorry.” I was pitiful, and it angered me. In the cacophony of my messed up thoughts, the only thing was to give in, to bow before his will. But that only made the anger worse. “No, I’m not sorry. You beat me, tossed me around
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he said.
I couldn’t, not anymore. He was going to kill me..
“Please, Derrick, just stop. I promise I didn’t cheat.”
It was useless to argue with him, but I was afraid, so very afraid. I didn’t want to hurt anymore; I didn’t want to be his punching bag. Five years of it was enough. He grabbed one of my hands and pulled it from my face. I covered as best I could with the other, but nothing stopped the punch. I bit my tongue and blood filled my mouth. Finally I could heave, tossing up everything out of my stomach.
“I’ll teach you, bitch. I’ll teach you right and good.”
He swung again, and stars swam in my vision. Each strike made me wish for the oblivion of sleep, to be free of him. Maybe if I did die, the pain would stop. I lost all of the meaning in my life because of him, and I didn’t trust anyone anymore.
“River wake up!”
Screaming, I slammed into reality, the darkness giving way to bright lights. I couldn’t get my bearings as I clenched my eyes shut and fought off my nightmare. I could still feel Derrick’s hands around my neck and smell the scent of alcohol on his breath. I couldn't shake the memory that I almost died that night. The only thing that stopped Derrick was a homeless man coming back to go to sleep. Bless that man, but he screamed like a banshee until people started showing up in the alley.
I disappeared among their number, leaving everything behind, and taking my first step towards freedom. It was the first string of lucky events that night that helped me get away. The off-duty nurse who saw the fear in my eyes and took me home to fix up. The organization she got in touch with that gave me a thousand dollars, a bus ticket, and clothes to disappear. And, finally, the handler who taught me to flip drinks like a pro so I could go anywhere, before sending me on my way so they could help the next woman.
And now, as I looked up into Ethan’s hard face, I knew all of their efforts had gone to shit.
“Let me go. I’m good now.”
He did as I asked, but kept his eyes on me. His stare was uncomfortable and I looked away. I didn’t want him to see what was inside of me. He already took so much. I came apart at the seams, tossed into pleasure I never knew as he held me down and spanked me on the very bed I cowered on. He was just as much a devil as the demon fucking up my dreams.
And I knew he didn’t give one shit about my fear. He couldn’t care less that his treatment of me had rehashed so many bad memories. Because for him, it was as simple as it pleasing him, and I got some sort of sick pleasure from it. That was enough for him to take my choices away. He was worse than Derrick. At least I hated and feared Derrick enough that everything he did no longer could turn me off. It didn’t make me want to displease him just so I could enjoy his punishment.
With Ethan, that was exactly what I wanted.
Even now, I could feel my body tightening up, looking over his ravaged body. He was a work of fractured art, a fucking connect-the-dots of wounds and old scar tissue over rippling muscle, and I wanted to trace a path between each nick. I wanted to feel the odd, smooth texture of the burn marks on him, trace the ridged rim of his puncture wounds. I knew Ethan was a monster, a beautiful disaster more imperfect than perfect, and he set me on fire. There was no way I could deny that.
And that was what made me more terrified of him than I ever was of Derrick.
“You were dreaming of him, in my bed.”
I swallowed, my mouth going dry. What could I say to that? How could I appease his anger when I’d been helpless? When he’d been the one to cause it all?
“I’m sorry.” I was pitiful, and it angered me. In the cacophony of my messed up thoughts, the only thing was to give in, to bow before his will. But that only made the anger worse. “No, I’m not sorry. You beat me, tossed me around
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