I close my eyes. “I f...feel disgusting.”
Her grip tightens. “You are not.”
“I let it happen. No one saved me. No one ever fucking does.” A sob breaks free.
She makes a choked sound. “You did notletanything happen. Theydruggedyou, Jude. Alexeisoldyou. I’m so sorry no one could…” she trails off, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “Save you.”
"You never did," I mutter. "You did this to me, too."
She snaps her mouth shut, a look of horror flashing across her expression. Her eyes are red, and her bottom lip trembles.
I cut her deep, but I don't care. I want to insist on taking the blame for this because it feels easier than sitting with the truth that I was fuckingpowerless. Powerlessness terrifies me more than pain ever has. But she is crying, and her tears are falling onto my hands where she is still holding me.
“I should’ve gone with you,” she whispers.
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” The admission tastes bitter. “They wanted me alone. Maybe they would have hurt you for coming with me. I wouldn’t have wanted that.”
She rests her forehead against mine. Our breaths mix. Mine is uneven, while hers is sharp and angry. “I hate them,” she says. “One day, I swear, we're going to kill them.”
I nod. There is a hollow place inside my chest where something used to live. Pride, maybe. Or control. The illusion that I could survive anything, especially as the monster Alexei turned me into. Now, it’s shattered.Not even as a monster myself can I escape the more ruthless ones.
“I couldn’t fight,” I murmur, because that is the part that keeps replaying. “I tried and I c—couldn’t.”
Her fingers slide into my hair, grounding me. This time, I let myself go. We lay like that in the dark, tangled together on the couch. My skin still feels like it does not belong to me. But her heartbeat is steady under my ear, lulling me back under.
“It’s okay,” she whispers into my hair. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I know.” I close my eyes, and I let her hold me. Slowly, the pain recedes, tingling into a deep numbness that will help me survive.
Chapter thirty-four
JUDE GRAVES
Morning comes like a punishment for someone who wishes to never wake the fuck up again. I haven’t really slept. I’ve drifted in and out of shallow, broken half-dreams where the hallway never ends, and the television laughter won’t stop.
Adriana is still curled on the couch beside me when I finally sit up. She stirs immediately. “Hey.”
I don’t answer. My body feels foreign. Every movement is mechanical, as if I’m operating a drone from a control room or something. I stand carefully, and the room doesn’t sway this time, but something inside me does.
I keep my eyes forward as I head towards the bathroom. There’s a mirror in the hallway, and I avoid it because I can’tstand to see myself. The bathroom light is annoyingly bright, so I flick it off and shower in near darkness. I scrub in the scalding water until my skin burns. I don’t think about why I’m scrubbing or the fact that I can still feel phantom pressure and hands that aren’t there anymore.
When I step out, I keep my gaze fixed on the sink, on the faucet, on anything but that goddamn mirror above it. I dry off without lifting my head. And then I dress the same exact way. If I don’t look at myself, then maybe I don’t have to reconcile the version of me that walked into that penthouse with the one who left it.
I enter the room wearing sweatpants and a hoodie and sit at the dining table. Adriana is drinking orange juice, watching me carefully. I don’t even want to look at her either, especially since crying in her arms in the middle of the night. I can’t stand that. The fact that I cried in my original abuser’s arms? What kind of twisted shit is that?
Fuck me.
There’s a knock at the door, pulling me back from my racing thoughts.
Adriana glances at me. “I’ll get it.”
I shift slightly, hands flat on the wood, staring at the grain. It’s scratched in one corner. I trace the line with my finger without realizing I’m doing it. If Alexei wants a session today, I won’t go. If he forces me, I’ll just fucking sit there. Equal parts of me want to splatter his brains on the wall, and then hide in the darkness, far away, so he’ll never make me do that again.
The door opens, and Erik steps inside carrying a tray with eggs, toast, and coffee. My stomach turns.
“Thank you,” Adriana says quietly, keeping her distance. She’s hugging herself, standing just behind me.
Erik doesn’t respond. Instead, he sets the tray down on the counter mere inches from me. I can feel his eyes on me. I keep mine on the table.