“Roll her over and get a look at her ass. I want him to see how hard we took her.”
I wake suddenly, shoving up into a sitting position, my hands fist the sheets. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. I recite to myself over and over again. But was it really? Because I endured those things.
I peer around the room, my eyes wild as I look for any hints of danger. When I find the room empty, I let out a ragged breath. Beads of sweat cling to my skin, and my heart beats rapidly in my chest, each thump heavier than the next.
Everything is okay. You’re safe.
I repeat the sentence half a dozen times before I feel even an inkling of calmness entering my bloodstream. Breathing deeply through my nose and out of my mouth, I slowly calm myself. The panic threatening to pull me under slowly recedes like the banks of an overflowing river.
My vise-like grip on the blanket slips, and I toss the covers aside. Moving, I let my feet dangle over the edge of the bed. I bring the neck of the oversized T-shirt that’s Quinton to my nose and inhale deeply, letting his woodsy scent fill my lungs. It calms me, and I shudder as I come down from the adrenaline high the nightmare gave me. Slowly, I push off the bed and tiptoe into the bathroom to get a glass of water.
The light automatically turns on when I walk inside. It’s only a few feet to the sink, and my fingers shake as I grab the glass sitting on the counter. I don’t even look at my reflection in the mirror, afraid of what I might see. The haunting look in my eyes terrifies me.
I’ll have to live with what happened for the rest of my life. The memories will never disappear. I’ll never be the same person I was before. I turn on the faucet and watch the water splatter against the porcelain sink before I bring the glass under the stream of water and fill it. Once full, I bring the glass to my lips and take a gulp.
The cool water blazes a path down my throat. I turn to walk out of the bathroom, the light shutting off behind me. The room is dark, and a scream catches in my throat, and my hold on the glass nearly slips when I see Quinton standing at the foot of the bed.
Every inch of him is covered in blood, and for a brief second, I panic and wonder if it’s his blood, only realizing a moment later that it’s most likely theirs. His icy blue gaze catches on me, softening slightly.
“It’s done. They’re all dead.”
“Dead? All of them? Who are all of them?” I’m not sure what I anticipated happening.
“Every single Valentine. I killed them all. The whole family.” The look in his eyes is that of rage and violence, and I’d hate to see what he did to them tonight, knowing how much blood coats his body. “They hurt you, hurt what was mine, so I made certain they’ll never be able to do it again.” A sane person would be disgusted, one who assumes the law or policemen could do the job of ensuring the guilty get prosecuted, but in our lives, we’re the jury, judge, and prosecutor.
Quinton did what the law never would. The weight on my chest lifts, the knowledge that they died for their crimes, that they can never hurt me again, makes me feel free.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I set the glass of water on the nightstand and consider rushing toward him to give him a hug but reconsider, looking at the blood dripping off him and onto the floor.
“Don’t thank me. It never should’ve happened, and I’ll blame myself every day going forward for it. At least now I know you got a sliver of justice.” I nod because while I don’t feel Quinton is to blame, I understand why he feels that way. “I’m going to take a shower and wash the filth away. Afterward, I want to hold you.”
I swallow around the emotions clogging my throat. Before, Quinton was kind in this sick and twisted way, but now, he’s opened himself up, showing me a new side to him, and the effects of it all have me in a jumbled knot of emotions.
I don’t know how I’m ever going to find my way back to normal. Quinton walks into the bathroom, his footsteps heavy. He closes the door behind him, and I climb back into bed, tugging the covers up and over my body. I listen as the shower turns on and stare at the bathroom door waiting for him to come to bed.
After a while, my eyes start to grow heavy, but it’s then that I hear the water being turned off, and suddenly, I’m wide-awake again. My stomach tightens into a knot when the door opens, and Quinton comes walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist. I don’t know where we stand or what happens next.