It was the weak moment I needed.
I kneed him in the balls, making him grunt and fall over in pain. Leaning over him, I put my lips against his ear. “Don’t you fucking touch me with that thing ever again. I’m not fucking you, and you aren’t fucking me. Am I clear? I’m not your bitch.”
“I’ll kill you,” Buck spat. “You think I care about your threats? You’ll give me what I want or else. You think these guards in here are there to save you? They gave you to me to keep me busy. You’re just my type, and they knew it. My last cellmate was not nearly as pretty as you. Go ahead, Johnny. Go to the bars, and tell them big ol’ Buck is messing with you. See what they do. Actually, I’ll do it for you.”
Buck got up, his dick standing out in front of him. I turned my face. My heart was pounding in terror. I couldn’t allow this to happen. I’d kill him first. “Hey Charlie,” he called out, getting the attention of the guard down in the pen. Charlie looked up and nodded. “My new roomie doesn’t like my dick. Can you believe that?” Buck stroked himself, turning back to grin at me. When there was no response from the guard, I knew I was fucked. Literally.
I looked around the room, wondering if there was anything I could use as a weapon to keep him away from me.
“Charlie doesn’t care,” Buck said, walking back to me. “Turn over and put your ass in the air.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed, standing up next to him. I was at least three inches taller and had about thirty pounds on him. I was not going to be his play toy.
“Yes, that’s what I plan on doing,” Buck said. I knew he was still stroking himself but I refused to look. “I’m going to do it as much as I want, Johnny, and you’re going to take it like the man you are. You might even like it. But I don’t give a fuck if you don’t.”
“I’m not fucking you. Not now, not ever.” I sat back on my bed, knowing he couldn’t physically move me.
Buck stood next to my bed, stroking his cock in front of me. I turned my head away but the sound was unmistakable. “Don’t close your fucking eyes in this room ever again,” he said. “Or you’ll wake up with my dick in your mouth or your ass. Better yet, next time it’ll be the shower. You can’t escape me there.” He grunted just before I felt warm liquid squirting all over me.
“No!” I shouted, sitting straight up in bed. Where was I? My heart calmed immediately as I realized I was not in the cell with Buck. I was in a hotel room. Bex was sleeping next to me, her gorgeous body illuminated by the moonlight coming through the part in the curtains.
I stood, making my way to the bathroom. My hands shook as I turned on the water in the sink. I hated that dream just about as much as I hated the one where he actually did corner me in the shower and stick that disgusting thing inside me. He’d had help, of course. Guys who helped him so he wouldn’t do it to them.
I splashed water on my face, trying to rid myself of the memories. Why wouldn’t they leave and stop harassing me? I was sick and tired of reliving every single shitty thing that had ever happened to me every time I shut my eyes.
I stepped back, my eyes looking at the reflection of the shower I’d had Bex in just mere hours ago. Now she was sleeping next to me in my bed. Or her bed. Whatever.
What was I doing? I’d left Florida and come to Atlanta to go on tour with her. We hadn’t discussed what, if anything, that meant for the two of us. I was going to Colorado in a few days to find out if my past was going to continue to haunt me or not. Bex didn’t know any of that. Did I want to tell her? Was it important for her to know? I had no idea.
Natalie and Julia were both on our cases about not hurting each other. I didn’t want to hurt her, but what did I want? I was afraid of the small voice in my head that was telling me I knew what I wanted from her.
I opened the bathroom door quietly as to not wake Bex. As the light illuminated the bed, I saw her sitting up watching me, her bare breasts barely covered by her long hair.
“Sorry if I woke you,” I said.
“You had a nightmare,” she said in response.
“Sorry,” I said again.
Bex shook her head. “You don’t have to be sorry. You know I have them, too. Do you want to talk about it?”
I stopped in my tracks. Did I want to talk about it? Who was this and what had she done with Bex? “Talk?”
She bit her lip and nodded, winding her hair around her finger as she waited for my response. I tampered down the panic that ensued when thinking about sharing my past with her and realized I did want to talk to her.
I sat on the edge of the bed, our eyes connecting as we processed what was happening here. “I’ve never told anyone.”
“I know,” she said. “You’re terrified.” She didn’t say it like she was trying to sympathize. She said it because she could relate.
I nodded. “I trust you.”
“You came here for me,” she said in response. “That means something, right?”
I shrugged. “I think so. I don’t know how to do this.”
“I don’t know, either,” she admitted. “Let’s start one day at a time. Hell, one second at a time.”
“I was in love with a girl once,” I started. It wasn’t about my nightmare, but it was one of them. “Her name was Jill. She—she was killed. I found her.” That was the bare minimum of the details, but that had been hard enough.
Bex gasped. “Fuck, Johnny. I’m so sorry. That’s why you don’t want to get close to anyone.”
“That and many other things,” I admitted.
“I was raped when I was sixteen,” she said like she was telling me the weather. “I got pregnant.”
I didn’t know what my mind had conjured up as what her past could contain, but it wasn’t that. “Fuck,” I hissed, clenching my fists. I knew it was a long time ago, and there was nothing I could do about it now, but I wanted to kill the fucker. “Where’s the baby?” As soon as the words left my mouth I realized we were talking about a child that would be ten now, not a baby.
Bex looked away from me and didn’t answer. “I’m going back to Colorado because I spent time in prison.” Maybe sharing more with her would help her feel safe opening up.
Her eyes snapped back to mine. “Prison?”
“Yes. It’s a long story, and if you really want to know, I’ll tell you someday. But I’m trying to get my record expunged.”
She nodded, wringing her hands in her lap. “My son died during childbirth.”
“Bex,” I said. I knew she didn’t want my sympathy. We were alike in that way. “That’s fucking shitty.”
“He was the only good thing that came out of my childhood,” she continued. “I was taken away from my dad when I was seven and went from foster home to foster home. He was the foster parents’ real son, and he thought he could do whatever he wanted to the girls in the home. Not long after he raped me, I ran away with Beau. Natalie was already out. I found out a month later I was pregnant. It was the first time I’d ever had sex. Well, not that I was willing . . . but you know.”
I sat still, afraid that if I moved she’d stop talking. This explained why she had meaningless sex because she at least could control that like she didn’t get to control her first experience.
“At first, I wanted anything that reminded me of that night out of me. I was going to have an abortion. But I couldn’t go through with it. Feeling him grow inside me, I knew that I had to protect him with my life. I would be the parent that he deserved to have. Beau and Natalie were going to help me.” Her voice broke, and I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my lap, but I didn’t dare.