This Girl Stripped (5 page)

The bed dips down behind me and strong, tattooed arms wrap around my back, pulling me against his chest. I want to push him away, but his arms comfort me. His touch should disgust me. But it doesn't. I feel safe for the first time in a really long time.

“He... he...” I can't get the words out. I try to talk but the only word my mouth can spit out is
he
. As in Zane. The nasty biker lurking around here somewhere. The grip around me tightens.

“Shhh... it's okay, Paisley”

For the longest time I just lay there in the safe arms of a stranger. Someone I never met until yesterday and the only person I can run to. My breathing eventually evens out once I have no tears left. I just lie in his arms and soak in his scent. It reminds me of cologne my high school boyfriend wore, but better. So much better on him - musk with pine trees … Christmas. That’s what it reminds me of: Fucking Christmas.

I slowly pull myself from his embrace and I instantly feel lonely and afraid of what the rest of my day holds. I want to tell him, but I don't know exactly what I can tell him. Who is Zane to him and why is he here for Thanksgiving?

“River, he hurt me.” I want to give him all the details, but sadly I don't even know most of it. I know the hurt. I know the morning after and every last minute leading up to when I passed out. His body tenses, his back goes ramrod straight and I don't want to say another word.

“How do you know Zane?” I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I barely knew his fucking name. I sit up on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest and recall the small details I can remember of everything that led up to
the assault
.

“I ran out of money in Florida. I was going to get kicked out of the motel I was living in, so I decided I could make some money stripping.” I don't look at him, because I know he’ll be disappointed just like anyone else would be if I had the balls to tell them my tale. I’m sure most of them would agree that I deserved exactly what I got. I don’t want him to be disgusted by me, even though I know that’s what’s going to happen as I continue to speak.

“He bought a couple lap dances and at the end of the night, he offered me a ride home. I shouldn't have taken it, I’m stupid.” I chew on the corner of my bottom lip, a nervous habit of mine and continue to look everywhere but at River; the friendly ear I desperately need right this minute. I have no one else. I have no outlet. Fuck I need a therapist or some shit.

“Then he hurt you.” His words aren't a question; they are an emotionally charged statement. I can see his bright eyes going dark, almost black as he stands and makes his way for my bedroom door. He’s a man on a mission and I don't know what to do to stop him.

“River please! Come back to me!” I plead with him. He stops dead in his tracks and slowly turns to me. His face is no longer hardened. His dark expression is back to the bright eyes I’m slowly falling for and he stalks back across the room.

“Paisley, I’ll never leave you, especially when you need me.” He pauses and runs his fingers through his dark spiked hair then kneels in front of me as I continue to sit on the bed with my legs hanging off the side. “If you need me, I’ll stay. But I need to take care of this.” I nod and he stands. In an instant he’s gone again and I’m alone on my bed completely confused by everything that he just said to me.

“Can someone pass the mashed potatoes?” River asks. He sits next to me at the sprawling Thanksgiving dinner table, often hovering within my personal space. I should be annoyed or feel crowded, but I don’t. I continue to push the pile of food around on my plate, pretending I have an actual appetite. No one but River has noticed. He won't leave my side. As Zane continues to slink around the house and stare daggers through me, River stands guard like an over protective boyfriend.
As if.

“Gladly,
brother
.” Zane says as he picks up the large ceramic bowl full of potatoes in front of him and stalks around the table, never once taking his eyes off of me. My body stiffens as he grows closer. Every step sends my anxiety to near nuclear levels. Thankfully, no one is paying attention to us. I just want dinner to be over so I can go lock myself back in my room without anyone complaining. Far away from the crowd I didn't want to deal with and the one man who had made my life a waking nightmare.

My mind continues to race. No matter how much I try and relax I can't help but continue to think of the fact that Zane is Chrome and River's brother. Their fucking brother. What are the chances?
Why me?

Should I be worried for my sister, Star? Is Chrome as much of a monster as Zane? Is River the same way? The bowl of potatoes slam onto the table, and snap me from my thoughts. River mutters thanks, and Zane stalks back around to the other side of the table. Seven sits next to him on one side, Star on the other. Both completely oblivious to the trouble brewing in the room.

“Star this has been fantastic, but I think I’m going to go for a walk. I need some fresh air.” I push my chair back from the table and River stands the moment my chair scrapes across the hardwood floors. I move.

“Paisley, you hardly ate.” Star complains as she stands as well. All the eyes at the table ping-pong back and forth between the two of us. She’s upset and I’m assuming it’s because she probably believes I think her cooking sucked or something. It’s her self-conscious nature kicking in; believe me, I know all about it.

“I'm just not feelin' all that great,” Seven's knowing gaze falls on me, and she interjects in my defense.

“She’s been a little under the weather, Star. Maybe some fresh air is exactly what she needs.” I’m nervous and I begin to bite on my bottom lip. Pulling a strand of my red locks free, I twirl it around my finger until it turns into a knot. River pulls my chair back and places a hand on my lower back; shooting daggers at Zane across the table.

“I'll join you, Paisley.” I want to pretend like his hand on my back doesn't send a shiver through my core. Everything about him screams
run into the safety of his arms.
But, I know I need to keep him at arms-length. I can't handle him. I can't handle my life in general. Adding him into the mix wouldn’t do any good, especially since our families are so intertwined at this point.

“On second thought, I think I’m going to go lay down.” I turn and make a run for the stairs. Once I’m inside the safety of my bedroom, I lock the door and curl up into a ball on the bed once again. Except this time, I’m missing warm tattooed arms wrapped around me like a cocoon of safety.

Come Back to Life

“Enough is enough, Paisley! Get your ass out of bed. Today, you talk.” Star stormed through my room like a fucking tornado. “I've let you off the hook since you got here. I’ve let you be since you moped around on Thanksgiving. Paisley, something is wrong and it isn't going to get any better until you talk about it. Take if from me. I know!”

I knew it was only a matter of time before Star would do this. If I was her, I wouldn’t have waited as long as she did. She could see I was hurting, and gave me my space. I appreciated it. That time was now gone. If anyone knew about having fucked up shit happen to them, it was Star. She might as well have been the queen of
fucked up.

I pull the sheets to my chin and pat my hand on the comforter next to me. She finishes opening all the shades in my bedroom before taking a seat next to me. I want to ask her for chocolate and wine before I get started. I let out a little chuckle to myself. That’s when I realize just how not funny this all is. My life is in fucking tatters and I don't even know where to begin repairing it.

“I was raped.” The words come out stone cold. No emotion. I feel like I’ve disconnected with my body when I think about it. The hurt is still there, but I’ve built a wall so high, no one will ever be able to climb it. Star lets out a strangled cry and moves closer to me. Her arms pull me in close and I can't help but trace the outlines of her
My Little Pony
tattoos. It gives me something to think about. Something to take my mind off the story I’m telling her.

“It was in Florida. I became a stripper to pay some bills. I thought it was a good idea at the time, but I was just too naïve. I let a customer drive me home, and he attacked me.” I shake out of her embrace. I just need my own space when I talk about it. Her arms around me remind me far too much of his touch.

“He beat the living shit out of me. I passed out and when I woke up the next morning there was blood all over my crotch and legs.” Crotch? Who actually uses that word? It’s all I can use to disconnect the sexual nature of what happened. Pussy, cunt, vagina, those words ring in my mind with pleasure. What he did to me was about power. It was dirty and disgusting.

She remains quiet, avoiding eye contact as my gaze drifts out the window next to my bed. The snow is beautiful and pure. Everything I will never be again. Because of him.

“Star, when I was staying with Seven...” I stop for a moment and take a deep breath because this is the most painful part of the story. It didn't hurt when he beat me to a bloody pulp. It didn't hurt when he stole my virtue. It doesn't hurt that I have to live with the memory of him. It hurts knowing that I killed a piece of me. It kills me. Guts me from the inside-out.

“I found out I was pregnant.” I can feel the tears pooling in my eyes. But, I refuse to blink and let them spill. I can't. I can make it through this without crying. It is part of moving on. I think?

“I had an abortion, Star. A couple days before Thanksgiving.” As much as I try and hold back my sobs, they slip out. My cries carry through the room, as my sister embraces me once again. I cry on her shoulder for the first time since I was a very young girl. She’s safe to me. She’s home. But, I can't help but think about the person I really want comforting me right now. River. Where was he? Was he thinking about me too?

It’d been days since Thanksgiving. Days since he told me he would never leave me. Never walk away. Then I locked him out. I rejected him and pushed him away. I wasn't ready for him, or whatever it was that he wanted. If he wanted anything from me.

I am beyond fucked up. I need to heal before I can even consider thinking about another person.

“I'm so sorry you went through that all alone, Paisley. I wish you would have come to me.”

I wish I could have too. But, the fact of the matter was that no matter what happened, it was all something I needed to do alone. I couldn't depend on anyone else to get me through the mess I’ve created of my life.

“Star?”

“Yeah, Paisley?” She slowly pulled away, standing next to the bed - giving me the much needed distance I craved at that moment. The next words would change all of our lives. As much as I didn't want to be the one to dish this news, I had to get it out in the open before he returned and flipped my life upside down again, just like he did on Thanksgiving.

“It was Zane.”

“Zane did that to you? The man who raped you in Florida is Chrome and River's brother?” She was dumbfounded. I really don't blame her because the moment he walked into Star's house days ago, I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought the universe was just playing a really cruel trick on me. Because in reality, if there is a God, which I am seriously starting to doubt,. why would he do this to me?

Star's face morphed with disgust mixed with disbelief. Her beautifully bright blue eyes were clouded with rage and I couldn't help but wonder if this would come between her and Chrome.

“Yes,” I whispered as my head hit the pillow again. I didn't want to get out of bed. I knew I had to. I knew deep down there was a fighter deep within me, I just didn't know how to channel her like Star had done. It was bred into us. Bloom genetics. Probably one of the only blessings to come from our shitty parents.

“He’ll never touch you again, Paisley. I can promise you that.” Her words are stern and caring all at once. Protectiveness radiated through the room.I feel somewhat reassured. Almost as if she knows I need time to myself to continue processing the tragedy I call life; she rises from the bed and walks for the door.

“Paisley, don't close me out,” Star begs before exiting the room. I can hear the slow creek of the staircase as she makes her way back to the main floor of the house. I beg for sleep to take me again, but every time I close my eyes, all I can see is him. His eyes. His mouth. That ugly ass scar.