Bella's Choice (25 page)

She met
Roy’s eyes again, and he rolled them to one side, as if he wanted her to move away, but her mother expertly caught his gesture once again. They had a few words under their breaths, and Anabella frowned at the unusual behavior between her mother and brother.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t move to the side, the chairs were too close for her to shift. If she wanted to move, it would have to be backward, but that would not suffice, either.

They immediately started to eat, the big man’s eyes still on her, making her uncomfortable. She noticed that Derek had moved, trying to get around the flowers to talk to her, but André stared him down with hateful eyes, which was strange and frightened her. That something troubled her brothers was a fact. Again, she felt compelled to move away completely, the feeling so strong that she moved her chair but the leg was stuck. She struggled for a bit, but the two men placed their hands on her arms respectively. She knew she had to let this feeling go and focused on the meal that was by now lukewarm.

Her mother and father talked as if nothing were wrong, keeping the conversation light between them and the guests. Confused with the whole scenario, she recognized that she had to get out as soon as possible. The growing unease hadn’t left her. Stay alert at all times, she reminded herself.

When supper was done, they made a big announcement in her honor and then rolled out the cake, the one her father and brothers supposedly baked, but she doubted it. Her mother had made a big show about it that morning. They had never baked anything in that house, not as long as she had lived there. Everyone stood up and congratulated her to loud cheers and clapping.

She caught Chaney’s ice-cold stare, yet she smiled brightly.

Perplexed, Anabella looked at her; she couldn’t believe the hate vibes she was receiving from this woman she hardly knew.

Finally, the two men moved so that she could stand but still kept her boxed in, barely allowing her any movement. She felt uneasy with the whole scenario. The men became very adamant as they showered her with hugs and kisses. André made a big show and congratulated her as he pressed himself firmly against her body. He allowed her no time to move away, or even stop him as he grabbed her arms and held them in a vice-like grip. He came down on her hard and kissed her, crushing her lips underneath his. She could feel the sting of blood as her teeth cut her lip. She fought him. She pushed him, but his chest rumbled with pleasure as he pressed his thick, wet lips deeper onto hers, hurting her.

“Come on, wildcat, open that juicy mouth so that I can taste,” he mumbled.

She heard people laughing. Her discomfort didn’t bother them. Shocked at the realization, she felt abandoned. She was pinned against the table so that she couldn’t leave. An ugly sound followed. The sound of ripped material reached her ears, and she realized it was her top. She desperately tried to clutch the material together, but it was no use.

“No, please let me go!” Anabella felt hysteria bubbling up her throat and screamed out her desperation. She couldn’t believe this was happening, not here in her own house. She tried desperately to hold on to her sanity; this wouldn’t be the time to lose control.

The moment he took a breath, she pleaded to the group, hoping to find someone who would listen. Desperately, she looked around for help, but everyone laughed, enjoying the show at her expense. By now, she had been moved as her body pressed into another person’s body, someone who was holding her close to him.

Her father’s voice reached her ears, and in a soothing manner told her to relax.

“Dad, please help me,” she whimpered in distress.

She saw him smile. All he said was, “Just relax honey. André is very fond of you. Isn’t that right, André?” But the man didn’t reply, his hands were all over her.

“Dad, please, not like this,” she pleaded, but he ignored her as André continued with the assault, her body aching from his firm grip. She couldn’t believe her father would do this to her. Horrified, she released a sob from deep down. Frantically, she searched until she found her brothers; they were being held back, struggling against the hold, tears running down their cheeks as they called to her.

Her face was forced back to look at André, squeezed in his meaty paw as he growled, “Mine! Wildcat, you are mine tonight, to do with as I please.” An ugly grin on his face flashed his sickening desire, and her heart slumped before it quickened its beat.

Terrified, she kicked him, but he just held on tighter, kissing her face and neck, his hands grabbing her breasts.

“You will love André, he is a wonderful lover. Relax, honey.”

She heard her mother next to her, and she screamed at her. “How dare you! You are my mother!”

The grin on her mother’s face was evil as she watched them with growing interest.

Tears ran down her face as fear gripped her, her body immobile. She had no idea what to do and desperately cried out, “Oh God, please help me!” She looked for a way to escape, kept on pushing, but he was too big for her, too strong. More hands joined in, holding her captive. Sweat formed on her face as she fought with all her strength. “Dad!” she screamed again, sending him a frantic look in the hope that he would help her, but he was too far back now with Chaney in his arms keeping him busy, a satisfied grin on her face.

“Come on, wildcat, I want to see your sexy body.” And with wet lips he started to kiss further down her body, biting away the lacy bra that was no match for his teeth. She felt the sting on her skin. His warm breath sickened her and she wanted to gag. His rough, big claws forced her pants down. She could hear the material tearing as he swiftly got rid of it. A hand moved between her legs, while another pair of equally rough hands helped him get rid of her clothing. Her shoes had been removed from her feet as someone knelt at her legs kissing and licking, forcing them apart. She felt helpless and terribly alone as she scratched the air. She fleetingly made contact and scratched someone, but hands grabbed hers firmly holding her in position for the brute’s onslaught. It felt just like in her dreams, only now it was real and even worse.

“Please, no, stop!” By now she was crying, terrified with the knowledge of what was about to happen. She looked up hoping help would descend from the ceiling. She heard her brothers call her name and a calmness came over her. In the midst of all the turmoil, she felt at peace. It happened suddenly; her mind acted as if it knew what to do and snapped into calm control.

She became quiet, looked at the man still busy with her breasts, pulled up his head with her one free hand and kissed him back, exploring his lips with her tongue. She could feel the grip on her other hand being released and she cupped André’s face. It took all of her willpower to do so, absolutely nauseated by this man’s lips against hers, his breath smelling like garlic. The smell triggered her memories and flashed through her. She knew the man! It was him. The fat, ugly guy on the stairs.
God, no!

“That is more like it,” her mother said next to her excitedly, clapping hands as she kissed him.

He growled with pleasure.

She felt naked and utterly alone. Her brain cut out the people she trusted the most as they had deserted her. She refused to think about it at that point. She had to make it through this. Her choice was made. This was not for her.

She couldn’t believe that this was happening to her, knew she had to act, now, before it was too late. She pushed him down to her breast, crushing his face into her body, and he groaned in delight. And then, with one knee free, she kicked him hard. She connected with his privates, making him scream as pain shot through him, his body collapsing against hers. She felt the restraining hands falling away, and it gave her the strength to act. Affording herself no time to celebrate the faint release, she made her move. Shoving him hard, she unbalanced him, and the moment he released her, she rushed past him.

She could feel hands trying to grab her as he shouted, “You bitch!” And promptly fell to his knees.

Chairs tumbled over as she knocked them in her haste to get away. She turned to where her mother stood in stunned silence. Their eyes met, and all the hate she felt toward her poured from her and without thought, Anabella slapped her with all the power she had and moved away. Her mother yelped in pain, but all she could hear were her brothers screaming at her, “Run, Anabella, run!”

Her father was pressed deeper in the corner as André’s body pinned him against the wall, desperate in his attempt to reach her.

“You bitch, come back, you owe me!” she heard the man scream. “I want her, get her! You bitch!”

Her mother shouted something as well, but she didn’t hear her or her father, who called her back. She ran for the door, past the people who looked at her, perplexed at the commotion. Anabella was shocked they didn’t try to stop her. With her brothers’ voices ringing in her head, she ran to the open door, and she did exactly that.

She ran. Her feet took to the road and she ran as fast as possible, taking her away from the horrible house. She passed the manicured gardens, she passed the decorated iron gates, neighbors’ houses hidden behind huge walls and into the twilight. The fading sun was touching everything with a brush of yellow gold. The harsh heat of the day was still evident, but Anabella didn’t notice any of it.

Her body hurt all over, but her feet weren’t complaining as yet. They just
allowed her to run on them. They would heal when she was gone from that place. Fear surged through her painful body, her skin bare, cold and shivering, but she kept on running. Cars passed her, and the honk of a horn filled the quiet evening air―but still she didn’t stop. She just kept on, not realizing how it must all look.

The raging anger of the man screaming still surged through her, her mother’s laugh echoed in her mind. It motivated her to continue on the asphalt. Sobs wracked through her body, tears ran down her face, her father a distant memory. Only her brothers’ voices encouraging her to run are what kept her going. Her feet slammed hard against the warm asphalt as she hit it with every stride, running, taking her further from that place, that horrible place.

Raggedly, her breath circulated through her lungs. Detestable, bloody bile filled her mouth with each inhale she took. But at that moment it wasn’t really registering, hardly even entered her mind. All she knew was that she had to get away, far away.

Chapter Eleven

S
he finally stopped at the Richter house, a haven in the shadowy night, the only place she recognized through the haze of tears. The waving curtains welcomed her home. She had no recollection of how she got there. Should she even knock? If anyone were to ask her at some point, she would not have been able to tell them. All she knew after she saw Mr. Richter was that she was home.

When Mr. Richter opened the door, she fell into his arms, shaking, her face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Safe. I am safe. They will protect me!
It was the last coherent thought running through her as sobs wracked her body, forcing her into his waiting arms. Before he could say anything, she was there, clinging to him in desperate need of security and comfort.

Almost naked, she was in a terrible state, her bra torn to expose her to all within range. Her clothes were shredded, revealing even more, and her body was covered in red, swollen bruises, especially between her legs.

With one look of utter shock, Mrs. Richter ran upstairs to find a blanket. Her swift movement went undetected by the men.

Mr. Richter stood at the door astonished and shocked at the sight of her, it was the last thing he expected when answering the doorbell. His eyes raked over her young body and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image to disappear, but he knew it would stay with him for a long time. As she fell into his arms, he held her cold body to his and froze on the spot, unsure of what to do. Just to hold her was uncomfortable enough and the state that she was in just made it worse. The force of her sudden movement caused him to take two steps back before he regained his balance.

Tim―who had stopped for a visit―stood just inside the door. He watched as the whole scene played out before him, as if in slow motion. He moved to close the door to any curious onlookers. Alarmed at Anabella's disheveled look, it took him seconds to do the only thing he knew he had to do. Grabbing his phone from the coffee table, he immediately speed dialed the person he needed to speak to as a matter of urgency, waiting but a few beats before his call was answered; no exchange of pleasantries took place.

“Aldrich
,
you'd better come
.
It's Anabella.” He
somehow
forced
his voice to stay calm, but Aldrich heard the
tremble nonetheless and tried hard to keep it t
ogether.

“What’s wrong?” Aldrich clenched the phone tightly, his mind racing a mile a minute. Something was wrong, and Tim sounded distressed. “Is she at your mum’s place?”

“Yes, she is. Just come quickly.”

“On my way.” Aldrich’s own voice had become unsteady. His friend’s tone unnerved him. Thinking of Anabella, one thought stuck.
Has something happened to her?
Tim wasn’t prepared to talk over the phone, he could hear it in his voice. They knew each other well enough not to question the abruptness of the call.

“See you soon.” Tim made another call, this one to the family doctor, knowing he would come without hesitation. Not only was he their doctor, but he was also a family friend, one that could be trusted in a situation such as they found themselves in. He was sure Anabella wouldn’t like it if the newshounds got a hold of this; it would tarnish her name and reputation.

His mother returned with a blanket, which was now covering Anabella’s shivering body. She continued to clutch his father, not willing to leave the safety of his arms.

Mr. Richter felt every tremor as it rippled through her every time she exhaled. His arms were around her like a shield, his heart aching for this sweet girl. With a sad expression, he looked at his wife whose features mirrored what he felt; tears spilled over her cheeks unhindered for the younger woman.

Finding a chair to sit down, he held her like a baby. Which was an accomplishment, seeing that she was as tall as he was; his old and frail body no match for the youthful strength, but for now he was the pillar she needed.

“I will switch on the kettle.” Mrs. Richter excused herself, turning her tear-stained face away as she disappeared into the kitchen.

The only sounds in the quiet house came from within Mr. Richter’s arms.

Placing the phone in his pocket, Aldrich grabbed his keys, trembling in distress. His friend’s voice had sounded distressed. What could have happened? Tim’s behavior was out of character as opposed to his cool persona―an effective tool in the courtroom.

He shot up a quick prayer as he hurried to the elevator, his body tense as his fingers rapped against the steel wall, waiting for the doors to open. His concern caused him to charge through the doors, trying to silence
his thoughts as all kinds of scenarios played through his head.

He moved as if in autopilot as he drove toward their house, his heart thudding in his chest while he maneuvered through the evening traffic. He had to believe that she was okay.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence as the Richter family waited in the living room, sipping the aromatic coffees that tasted more like plastic at that moment. When they heard a car pull into the driveway, slamming on the breaks with a loud screech, Tim moved to the door.

Aldrich ran up to the porch. Tim let him in and they both just stood there assessing each other. No words were exchanged between them, but Aldrich saw on his friend’s pale face that whatever had taken place was not good.

Oh dear God, please
, Aldrich prayed silently as he entered the house. Walking past his friend, he found Anabella in Mr. Richter’s arms. She was hanging on for dear life. He took in the whole scenario with one swift glance when alarm bells went off in his head. The picture didn’t bode well. The blanket covering her had not prepared him for what lay beneath. Her feet were dangling from underneath the blanket, and realizing the state they were in, he swallowed the bile rising from his gut. They were swollen, crusted with blood, and covered in dust.

No one had noticed until Aldrich pointed it out unsteadily. “What happened to her feet?”

Tim looked at them, only then registering their condition, cursing under his breath while walking to the bathroom to find a cloth. He couldn’t believe he’d missed that. His desperate attempt to erase the image of her bruised body from his mind was futile; it continued to linger there as he simply shut out the rest, which was unacceptable to him.

When Aldrich’s and Mr. Richter’s eyes met, the older man released his hold on her. He knew she would be in his safe hands.

Aldrich nodded appreciatively, grateful to this man who had been there in her hour of need. He crouched down beside them and slowly loosened Anabella’s hands from around Mr. Richter’s neck. He didn’t want to frighten her anymore than she already was. Her face was covered by her hair, which he gently pulled back. Keeping his face expressionless, he studied hers. She looked terrified. Her normally smooth skin was covered in red smudges and dust, her eyes puffy and red. All signs of the pain she was in. His heart clenched as he took her into his arms, speaking to her in a soft voice, all the while holding her like a child. She collapsed into his arms without as much as a flinch once she recognized him.

“What happened?” he asked, when he saw her face.

“We don’t know. She hasn’t said a word since she arrived,” Tim answered him, instead. “We’ve tried to speak to her several times, but she just cries.”

Aldrich nodded in understanding and cradling her, he sat down on the couch. His mind was in turmoil as he sorted through the information he’d received. Then a thought struck him. “Where is her car?” He was trying to make sense of her condition, how she’d gotten there, and where exactly she’d been.

“I don’t know, but it’s beginning to look like she ran here.”

By now, she had calmed down but continued to hold Aldrich as he comforted her in a soft voice. Her breath quivered against his neck and was interspersed by the deep breaths she took. When he attempted to get answers by asking her where she had been, she didn’t respond.

Whoever has caused this, will pay,
Aldrich vowed to himself, trying hard to control his emotions. It just didn’t make sense, none of this did, and finding an explanation from her at this point in time was non-existent.

Minutes later, the doctor arrived, taking charge of the situation. “Please, allow her lie down on the couch,” he demanded sternly, once he’d greeted every one and had placed his doctor’s bag on the table.

And then Mr. Richter spoke for the first time, clearing his throat before he managed to get anything out. “No, she is exposed.” Again, he cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes, exhausted.

Horror filled Aldrich’s face. “Oh, Lord. Please don’t say that!” A cry escaped his mouth, and shock vibrated through every pore. He squashed her against him, her hands clasping around him as if she wanted to comfort him, forgetting the pain she was in. Although dazed, Anabella knew he needed the assurance from her.

“Is there a place where I can examine her?” the doctor asked, waiting on Mr. Richter for an indication, who in turn, snapped out of his silent stupor.

“Yes, upstairs. Aldrich, could you carry her to Monica’s room?” No reply was needed.

“Follow me. I will show you the way,” said Tim, who until then had said nothing.

Slowly, they went up the stairs. Aldrich carrying his beloved in his arms, Tim leading them; a silent procession as each man pondered over the situation.

Tears filled Aldrich’s eyes.
Please, Lord, not this. Let it not be rape!
In desperation, his thoughts raced to the one who could give him strength as he placed her on the bed, delicately.

Her cries had quietened down as she held on tight to him, eyes wide open, watching every move he made, yet not a sound escaped he
r. In her silence, she gave no indication of how much she had suffered, her own turmoil too explicit as she watched and listened to everyone―too tired to respond.

With a kiss to her forehead he straightened, brushing away the tendrils from her face and ne
ck. The sweep of his hand caused the blanket to open, exposing her just enough for him to notice some of the bruises on her chest. He gasped, dismayed as he stared for the longest second directly at her body before he turned his gaze back to her.

In return, her eyes were lifeless and withdrawn; shielding herself from the rejection she thought she saw in his eyes, not sure if she could handle that from him.

Aldrich had no idea how to react to what he was witnessing, he didn’t even have enough time to shield the awfulness, so when the doctor passed him, he stepped back in disbelief.

“Please, leave us, let me examine her. It will be best to call the police in this situation,” the doctor informed them, after one quick glance at her.

Anabella moved for the first time, waving her hand in protest and shaking her head fiercely, as if to say no. She was too tired to utter one word, but they understood her perfectly.

Aldrich wanted to argue with her but knowing her, it would be futile. She was in no state to put up a fight, and he didn’t have the heart to rebuke her decision.

“All right, then, please close the door,” said the doctor.

Tim led Aldrich away, supporting his friend with a hand on his shoulder. “Come, Aldrich, she will be fine.” He didn’t dare look at his friend’s face. The sorrow and questions were clearly evident. It was too painful to watch, and he turned away so that he wouldn’t see his distress.