CHAPTER ONE
CHARLOTTE
*This book contains sensitive subject matter. If you are easily triggered or have experienced serious trauma, this book may not be for you. Not recommended for persons under 18 years of age.
My lids are heavy over my eyes as gravity fights to hold them down. They feel swollen. Weak. I blink a few times to test their strength, but I’m forced to close them again from the bright, flashing lights filtering around the doorframe, contrasting the dark of the room.
My body is trembling.
I’ve reached the limit of the brightness I can take and shield my eyes with my right hand. But it’s too late. It has already seared my retinas. They burn intensely as a throbbing builds in my head between them. It’s pulsing.
I’m lethargic. Confused. In a giant fog that’s swallowed me up and refuses to spit me out.
I try once more to open my eyes, using the tiny slits to narrowly peer around my surroundings, to take them all in. But everything seems foreign. Unfamiliar.
Dark navy comforter. Light blue walls. A corner desk.
This isn’t my room.
With new eyes, I look around again.
I’m in—what looks to be—a guy’s room. As I continue scanning the unknown belongings, my other senses slowly appear, and the musky scent of a man’s cologne, along with a mixture of other indistinguishable odours, assault my nose.
It’s nauseating.
My stomach begins to revolt, but I swallow it down, forcing the queasiness away for now.
I shift to sit up, but the room becomes a cyclone spinning around me. Nausea comes back full force, and I have to grab the nearest trashcan to empty the contents of my stomach, adding to the putrid smells in the room.
When I’ve finally rid myself of everything my stomach was holding, I force myself to stand on rubber legs. I stumble my first few steps like a baby deer but gain enough balance to take a few more.
As I become more aware, I notice pain radiating throughout my body that wasn’t there before. It’s intense. Almost paralyzing. I fold over to clench my stomach. My eyes naturally fall to my waist. That’s when I see it. My nakedness. The blood. The sticky substance coating my inner thighs. The bruising.
I gasp from the known.
I retch from the unknown.
I trudge toward the unruly pile of clothes on the floor a few feet away.
My clothes.
I grab them, suddenly feeling the need to be modest. Hidden.
I cover my body the best I can—considering the damage restricting my movement—and hurriedly stumble out into the hall, feeling the eyes of everyone on me. Speculation of my appearance burns through their mouths, jumping from one person to another, creating a wildfire around me.
I need to get out of here.
As I try to find an escape, my heart becomes frantic, trying to break through the restrictive cage surrounding it. Then it turns to panic.
Their cackling laughter fades in and out as it swirls past my ears.
Slut… Whore… Skank… Tease!
Did you hear what she did?
I heard she begged them for it.
I heard she wanted them to take turns.
My search reveals a closet several feet away, and my feet instinctively move in its direction, needing the barrier to separate me from the rumours. The theories. The hurtful words that can’t be real.
That shouldn’t be real.
I close myself in and pant with laboured breaths, knowing there’s no way I can sneak out of this house without becoming the main attraction.
I try to make sense of the past events, but the flashes of detached thoughts or memories are making it too confusing. My mind is a jumbled mess, but the imagery feels too familiar. It becomes knotted in my throat. Each time I inhale, my breath forces its way past it, heaving my chest. It swells to new depths. Painful. Crushing. The four tiny walls surrounding me are closing in, and I’m seconds away from hyperventilating.
It’s too much.
They say what they think happened. But I wouldn’t do that.
I wouldn’t!
Though considering my appearance, they’ll never believe me. I don’t believe me.
I sway on the spot as my vision blurs, allowing me to focus on the pain throughout my body. It’s everywhere. In places I don’t want to consider.
The combination of apprehension and sedation I feel almost pulls me into a blackness where my consciousness is wavering.
What did I do?
I fall back against the wall behind me for support. I’m unable to stand. My equilibrium is off, and the room has joined the carnival in my head, forcing me to slide down the wall to the hardwood floor beneath me. I wrap my arms around my legs to give me an added layer of protection, but it does nothing to filter the noises in my head.
Music. Laughter. Voices.
Your skin is so soft. Just like I’ve imagined.
The deep, smooth voice filters through the chaos. Tears spill down my face and I realize I’m crying. My lip quivers with an unsettling fear. And before I know it, a piercing scream tears from my throat.
No one hears me, though. No one cares.
The darkness of the closet shields me from everyone’s amusement, but the solitude only confirms the reality that I’m alone.
My friends are gone. They’ve moved on. Started new lives.
“Where is she?!” I’m too far gone inside my head to consider the familiar, demanding voice.
“I’ll give you one second to tell me where Charlotte Reese is before I put your ass behind bars for obstruction!” A strange relief settles in my limbs from Kaden’s closeness—the man who gets under my skin in countless ways.
I startle when the sound of a body slamming into the wall, nearby, travels down the surface in front of me.
“Where is she?” Kaden bites through his teeth, barely containing his composure.
I envision the guy’s face pressed against the wall, his hands pulled behind him, his shoulders lifted to their limit, and Kaden breathing down on him, threatening more force.
“I don’t know, man! The last time I saw her, she was coming up here with someone, but the flashing lights made it hard to see who it was. That’s all I know. I swear!” His voice gets higher with each word as they tumble from his mouth.
A fist smashes into the wall next to where the body hit, making me know Kaden’s growing agitated. As a lieutenant of the Los Angeles Police Department, he holds the power to make a substantial amount of trouble for this guy. Though the fear I hear in the pinned man’s voice tells me he was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he’s telling the truth.
He doesn’t know anything.
I clumsily wipe away my tears, and use all of what little strength I have left to force my voice to call out Kaden’s name, then hit the door once with my fist.
Then again.
Only a second passes, and it flies open. I’m instantly bathed in the warm light of the fixtures above. A large silhouette fills the opening, and I immediately know that it belongs to Kaden.
He easily lifts and secures me in his strong arms, pressing me tightly against his solid chest.
My eyes scan over his wavy blonde hair, trimmed beard, and stunning sky-blue eyes to bask in the familiarity of him. The safety of him. My fingers desperately grasp onto the thin cotton of his shirt. It gives me a tether. A tangible handhold connecting me to him. To asylum.
I don’t feel so alone.
He came for me.
How did he know?
“I’m going to take you out of here,” he lowly consoles. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates against my cheek like a kitten’s purr, calming me. “They won’t get away with this. I promise you. I will throw every possible charge at them until one sticks. They will not get away with this,” he repeats.
Who?
Charges?
His declaration cracks slightly in the back of his throat, and he pulls me tighter against him. His arms engulf my tiny frame, fitting it perfectly in their sanctuary.
“Please get me out of here,” I manage to whimper.
He moves without hesitation. Everyone fans apart—giving him a wide berth—while their whispered accusations and insults amplify above the music. Some have looks of amusement. Some have looks of pity. And others look like they despise me for what I’ve done.
All eyes on me.
The moment Kaden storms out of the house, he already has his phone to his ear, barking orders to shut down the party and start an investigation into the rumours. I’m too tired to protest, so I curl into him, letting the weight of the night drag down my lids again, and fall into a restless sleep.
My body is trembling.
I’ve reached the limit of the brightness I can take and shield my eyes with my right hand. But it’s too late. It has already seared my retinas. They burn intensely as a throbbing builds in my head between them. It’s pulsing.
I’m lethargic. Confused. In a giant fog that’s swallowed me up and refuses to spit me out.
I try once more to open my eyes, using the tiny slits to narrowly peer around my surroundings, to take them all in. But everything seems foreign. Unfamiliar.
Dark navy comforter. Light blue walls. A corner desk.
This isn’t my room.
With new eyes, I look around again.
I’m in—what looks to be—a guy’s room. As I continue scanning the unknown belongings, my other senses slowly appear, and the musky scent of a man’s cologne, along with a mixture of other indistinguishable odours, assault my nose.
It’s nauseating.
My stomach begins to revolt, but I swallow it down, forcing the queasiness away for now.
I shift to sit up, but the room becomes a cyclone spinning around me. Nausea comes back full force, and I have to grab the nearest trashcan to empty the contents of my stomach, adding to the putrid smells in the room.
When I’ve finally rid myself of everything my stomach was holding, I force myself to stand on rubber legs. I stumble my first few steps like a baby deer but gain enough balance to take a few more.
As I become more aware, I notice pain radiating throughout my body that wasn’t there before. It’s intense. Almost paralyzing. I fold over to clench my stomach. My eyes naturally fall to my waist. That’s when I see it. My nakedness. The blood. The sticky substance coating my inner thighs. The bruising.
I gasp from the known.
I retch from the unknown.
I trudge toward the unruly pile of clothes on the floor a few feet away.
My clothes.
I grab them, suddenly feeling the need to be modest. Hidden.
I cover my body the best I can—considering the damage restricting my movement—and hurriedly stumble out into the hall, feeling the eyes of everyone on me. Speculation of my appearance burns through their mouths, jumping from one person to another, creating a wildfire around me.
I need to get out of here.
As I try to find an escape, my heart becomes frantic, trying to break through the restrictive cage surrounding it. Then it turns to panic.
Their cackling laughter fades in and out as it swirls past my ears.
Slut… Whore… Skank… Tease!
Did you hear what she did?
I heard she begged them for it.
I heard she wanted them to take turns.
My search reveals a closet several feet away, and my feet instinctively move in its direction, needing the barrier to separate me from the rumours. The theories. The hurtful words that can’t be real.
That shouldn’t be real.
I close myself in and pant with laboured breaths, knowing there’s no way I can sneak out of this house without becoming the main attraction.
I try to make sense of the past events, but the flashes of detached thoughts or memories are making it too confusing. My mind is a jumbled mess, but the imagery feels too familiar. It becomes knotted in my throat. Each time I inhale, my breath forces its way past it, heaving my chest. It swells to new depths. Painful. Crushing. The four tiny walls surrounding me are closing in, and I’m seconds away from hyperventilating.
It’s too much.
They say what they think happened. But I wouldn’t do that.
I wouldn’t!
Though considering my appearance, they’ll never believe me. I don’t believe me.
I sway on the spot as my vision blurs, allowing me to focus on the pain throughout my body. It’s everywhere. In places I don’t want to consider.
The combination of apprehension and sedation I feel almost pulls me into a blackness where my consciousness is wavering.
What did I do?
I fall back against the wall behind me for support. I’m unable to stand. My equilibrium is off, and the room has joined the carnival in my head, forcing me to slide down the wall to the hardwood floor beneath me. I wrap my arms around my legs to give me an added layer of protection, but it does nothing to filter the noises in my head.
Music. Laughter. Voices.
Your skin is so soft. Just like I’ve imagined.
The deep, smooth voice filters through the chaos. Tears spill down my face and I realize I’m crying. My lip quivers with an unsettling fear. And before I know it, a piercing scream tears from my throat.
No one hears me, though. No one cares.
The darkness of the closet shields me from everyone’s amusement, but the solitude only confirms the reality that I’m alone.
My friends are gone. They’ve moved on. Started new lives.
“Where is she?!” I’m too far gone inside my head to consider the familiar, demanding voice.
“I’ll give you one second to tell me where Charlotte Reese is before I put your ass behind bars for obstruction!” A strange relief settles in my limbs from Kaden’s closeness—the man who gets under my skin in countless ways.
I startle when the sound of a body slamming into the wall, nearby, travels down the surface in front of me.
“Where is she?” Kaden bites through his teeth, barely containing his composure.
I envision the guy’s face pressed against the wall, his hands pulled behind him, his shoulders lifted to their limit, and Kaden breathing down on him, threatening more force.
“I don’t know, man! The last time I saw her, she was coming up here with someone, but the flashing lights made it hard to see who it was. That’s all I know. I swear!” His voice gets higher with each word as they tumble from his mouth.
A fist smashes into the wall next to where the body hit, making me know Kaden’s growing agitated. As a lieutenant of the Los Angeles Police Department, he holds the power to make a substantial amount of trouble for this guy. Though the fear I hear in the pinned man’s voice tells me he was unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he’s telling the truth.
He doesn’t know anything.
I clumsily wipe away my tears, and use all of what little strength I have left to force my voice to call out Kaden’s name, then hit the door once with my fist.
Then again.
Only a second passes, and it flies open. I’m instantly bathed in the warm light of the fixtures above. A large silhouette fills the opening, and I immediately know that it belongs to Kaden.
He easily lifts and secures me in his strong arms, pressing me tightly against his solid chest.
My eyes scan over his wavy blonde hair, trimmed beard, and stunning sky-blue eyes to bask in the familiarity of him. The safety of him. My fingers desperately grasp onto the thin cotton of his shirt. It gives me a tether. A tangible handhold connecting me to him. To asylum.
I don’t feel so alone.
He came for me.
How did he know?
“I’m going to take you out of here,” he lowly consoles. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates against my cheek like a kitten’s purr, calming me. “They won’t get away with this. I promise you. I will throw every possible charge at them until one sticks. They will not get away with this,” he repeats.
Who?
Charges?
His declaration cracks slightly in the back of his throat, and he pulls me tighter against him. His arms engulf my tiny frame, fitting it perfectly in their sanctuary.
“Please get me out of here,” I manage to whimper.
He moves without hesitation. Everyone fans apart—giving him a wide berth—while their whispered accusations and insults amplify above the music. Some have looks of amusement. Some have looks of pity. And others look like they despise me for what I’ve done.
All eyes on me.
The moment Kaden storms out of the house, he already has his phone to his ear, barking orders to shut down the party and start an investigation into the rumours. I’m too tired to protest, so I curl into him, letting the weight of the night drag down my lids again, and fall into a restless sleep.
