A Brutal Betrayal(2)

By: D.C. Renee

“Don’t make a sound,” he had said, his voice low and gravely, and the enormity of the situation hit her. She didn’t listen, she screamed, a loud, shrieking sound coming from her lips. He punched her, slamming her head against the corrosive wall. She didn’t care, that was better than what she knew would happen. She screamed again, and he pushed her into the wall, hard. She bucked into him, trying to push him away. Her arms flailed where he hadn’t pinned them down, trying to scratch him somehow, although she knew she couldn’t reach him at this angle. He got a hold of her arms and pinned them in front of her and pushed her against the wall. She felt her lip starting to swell, and her body felt like someone had snapped it in two. But still, that kind of pain would heal. The pain she knew he intended on inflicting would not, so she didn’t care. She didn’t stop screaming. Not when he lifted her dress, not when he tore her underwear like it was a piece of tissue paper, not when his rough, calloused hands pinned her hips to the wall, not when he forced himself inside her, not when he pounded away the remnants of her innocence, not when he continued to violate every part of her being.

“Please stop. No. Please, don’t do this.” Her lips moved, even as her voice disappeared. But it didn’t matter. He was doing it. He had done it. She felt the pain, the ache in every crevice and corner of her body, in every niche of her mind. And he had been rough. He had beaten her to get this. She could feel the telltale signs of bruising all along her body. But she could have taken that. He continued to mumble, the words still incoherent to her, but she finally felt herself starting to check out from this time and space. Her mind was finally starting to protect her, pulling her out of the moment. The numbness began to take over, but just before she lost consciousness of the here and now, she felt his body tense, and he went rigid with his release. She vaguely felt him push her down to the floor when he was done with her. She barely remembered hearing the zipper on what she assumed were his jeans. And she only just understood that the sounds of footsteps were his as he ran away from her, leaving her there bloody and broken, used and discarded, sullied and ashamed.

Chapter 1

Seven Years Later…

“Hey Chuck,” Declan answered his phone. “Long time, no hear. How are things? How’s Sue?” he asked his mentor.

“Hey Dec, things are good. Sue’s good, just busy with the kids. But that’s what happens when you’re a stud like me. She can’t keep her hands off me, and then nine months later, we have way too many little me’s running around.”

Declan laughed at Chuck’s humor. Chuck was twenty years his senior and on his third marriage to a woman who was a year younger than Declan. Chuck was one hell of a therapist, well, at least for others. Too bad he couldn’t follow his own advice. Maybe he would have stuck it out with wife number one, or even two. But Sue was a sweetheart and for some reason, she seemed to love Chuck, baggage and all.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call? I’m not babysitting, and I am not a marriage counselor,” Declan joked.

“Ha, ha, funny guy. I have a patient I am referring to you.”

“Why? Can’t hack it anymore, huh? It’s all right, being old isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

“Oh, wise ass, just remember that if I’m old now, that means you will be too at this age.”

“Okay, okay, seriously though. What’s the issue?”

“No issue. I met with her a few times, but she’s skittish and not very trusting. I’ve seen her staring at the pictures of my family along my desk. It’s no secret I’m on wife number three and have a brood of kids under my belt, but I think all that intimidates her. When she looks at my wedding picture, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen both longing and fear in her eyes. I think it all actually makes her feel uncomfortable. She’s told me she feels like I can’t relate. Not that my life should reflect my teachings and whether I can help her cope, but she has started closing up on me.”

“I’m not understanding why your family or commitment situation should matter to her,” Declan stated, confusion marring his brows.

“She’s a rape victim. It happened a few years ago. It was pretty brutal too. The guy beat her good and then practically left her for dead. All the details are in the police report; you can take a look when I send it over. It’s left her scarred from having relationships or being able to get close to anyone. She’s been through several therapists before me, but every time, she’s found something that makes her standoffish. I’m thinking that since you’re closer to her age and haven’t had a serious relationship, she might be able to connect to you more. And mind you, Dec—she wants help, she’s actively seeking it—but she’s feeling defeated after years of nothing. So, my lonely, self-absorbed, egotistical, ‘there is no one out there good enough for me’ friend, I hope all those qualities can ensure you’re able to help her.” He chuckled, but there was a slight edge that told Dec he was partially serious.

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