Why is she here? She told me she’d cover for me in her earlier text, so what the hell is she doing here?

Once inside, I just need to make it upstairs without anyone noticing me. And I’m praying she has a good excuse as to why she’s here and hope she isn’t trying to get me in trouble. I know she doesn’t care for Maddox but this is ridiculous. I’m also hoping that Rachel won’t tell Tim of my plans. But deep down I know that’s not the case, because Rachel tells Tim everything. I’m praying so hard that this time she won’t. I pray wherever she is now, it’s preventing her from calling him. The weight of lead is in my next footsteps as I open the door and silently head inside, closing it behind me. The foyer is dark but there are lights on in the kitchen. Leaving my bag at the door, I search the far left wall for the nearest light switch. I jiggle it up and down but nothing happens. The bulb must’ve burnt out, I muse mindlessly.

Turning to my right, I come to a stop just below the staircase and listen to the almost eerie quietness of the house. It’s never this quiet. Rachel or Sarah can be trusted to always make noises. And I know Rachel isn’t home, but I’m hoping Sarah is here. I head upstairs, cringing when the stairs creak. I’m holding my breath, praying I make it to my room before Tim creeps out of the shadows somewhere. And then I hear it. A succession of breathy giggles that come before the familiar alto of Mallory’s voice. It’s coming from down the hall. It’s coming from inside Rachel and Tim’s bedroom.

Chapter 23

Aylee

Going against my better judgement, I tentatively make my way down the hall.

The sound of Mallory’s voice speaking to Tim so casually turns my stomach. “This is pretty ballsy of you, inviting me to come over when Rachel could come home any time now.”

“She won’t be,” he replies cockily. “I arranged a last-minute spa weekend for her and Sarah. They’re not coming back until Sunday.”

The sounds of my footsteps are consumed by the carpet and I’m grateful that it muffles the creaky floorboards. I come to their door that’s been left slightly ajar, and another one of Mallory’s giggles deepens my frown. She only giggles like that when she’s high. “So that gives us a few hours before I have to go get Aylee.”

“And where exactly did you say she was again?”

“Working on an art project for her portfolio at school.”

At the sound of rustling, I give into morbid curiosity and look inside.

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

With my eyes wide, I take in the scene in the bedroom, and utter shock instantly turns to hot, bitter disgust that pushes up from the floor of my stomach to burn my throat. Tim is on the bed, Mallory is completely naked sitting between his legs. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Daddy. I’m your good little girl, always have been.”

“Hmm, you were my good little girl. Now you’re just a filthy little slut who’ll fuck anything for a high.”

“That’s not true. I’m just as pure as the night you first fucked me. I’m just a little more experienced, but I’m still your good girl. I’m way better than Aylee...”

He rears his hand back and slams it across her cheek at the same moment that he roars, “Shut the fuck up!” I wince and cringe as if he’d struck me, remembering all too clearly the pain of my own abuse at this man’s hands.

“You don’t talk about her with your filthy whore mouth!”

With the blow knocking her to one side of the floor, Mallory rights herself as though nothing happened, running her hands up and down his thighs. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Let me ride you and show you how sorry I am.”

He yanks her up to her feet. “Get on this fat dick then. Ride until I come inside you.”

She turns around and my whole world stops. In the muting darkness of the hallway, I know she can’t see me, and yet, when she lowers herself slowly onto Tim’s erection, her kohl-rimmed blue eyes perforate through the slice of the open door and impales me with her stare. Her crimson red mouth pulls up at the corners into an evil, smug grin, and I know in that instant that I’ve never had a best friend.

“Aylee!” She feigns surprise, jumping to her feet to grab a blanket and covering her body. “It’s not what it looks like.” She races to the door with Tim only seconds behind her.

With blood running cold, I take off down the hallway that suddenly feels so endless. Tim’s barreling footsteps echo in my bones.

“AYLEE!”

The boom of his voice rattles my nerves and shakes my heart. Panic sets in and mingles with the pervasive storm of fear churning in my body. If I stop now, I know he’ll catch and hurt me. And suddenly the idea of suffering one more minute under his hand brings on a surge of such utter contempt that I’m bowling over by its force. I refuse to play his victim. I won’t let him hurt me. Not without a fight.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I hitch my skirt farther up my legs and lengthen my strides. The staircase is just a few feet away but I dash inside my room instead knowing if I can close and lock the door it’ll buy me time to escape out of my bedroom window. It’s a hasty plan, not thought out properly, but I hope it works. Scurrying to swing the door shut, I’m stunned when one hard shove of his shoulder into the door sends me flying backward.

I land on my butt, my legs in front of me, and my hands behind me break my fall. In the doorway, he stands breathing hard, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Aylee…?” My eyes shift for a millisecond to Mallory who’s standing just behind Tim’s left shoulder. “Sweetie, what are you doing here? I thought I was picking you up from Maddox’s apartment?”

My blood chills to arctic degrees and my heart sinks heavily to the floor. My eyes dart back to Tim’s face to find it contorting into a dark, sinister mask of pure fury. He only takes the time to slam close and lock my bedroom door behind him, leaving Mallory in the hall, before he trudges toward me. “Hey,” she whines, pounding on the door.

Surging to my feet, I race toward my bathroom…but I don’t make it. Crying out as he snatches me by the hair, I’m left grappling with my fear once again when he yanks me back and tosses me on my bed. I bounce, the wind knocks out of me, my scalp burning as I try to get up, try to scramble off the bed, but he leaps and lands on me like a rabid jungle cat. Mallory screams from behind the door, but he continues.

“Tell me you didn’t let that piece of shit touch you!” Spittle splashes across my face as he yanks my head off the bed, “You’re still a virgin! Tell me you’re still my little flower!” Cruelly, he twists a hand in my hair, gripping so tightly my scalp burns. “Tell me you didn’t give him what’s mine! TELL ME!” he roars, and fear like I’ve never known before suffocates every inch of me.

He looks so frightening. Imbalance, crazy, very nearly maniacal, and I know I won’t escape his clutches without permanent damage. Looking into the abyss of his dark, dark eyes, I face my mortality. He won’t let me live. And I no longer care.

“I gave him every inch of me. I let him lick and eat every part of my pussy until I came and came and came all over his tongue. And then I spread my legs and begged him to take my virginity. He fucked me hard and slow and so deep that I never wanted him to stop. And not once, not even a fucking millisecond did I think about you. You are a nonfactor. You do not exist. He erased your sickening, revolting touch from my soul and tattooed love there. You no longer matter. What you did no longer matters. I look at you and all you are is a sad, pathetic waste of humanity.”

The punch comes down like a battering ram against the side of my face. I can’t describe the stunning pain, but it pushes the air from my lungs and blinds me. But there’s only instinct, and while I fight and twist and kick to get away, his strength is so much more than mine. The weight of his fury drops down on me like a cart filled with anvils, each one of his raining punches depleting me of everything. I can’t think. I can’t cry. All that occurs is the staggering wave upon wave of brutal agony.