Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 83872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I moved my arm a bit and groaned in pain. “Where’s Dad?” I asked her, not answering her question. I didn’t like talking about pain, and she should know that.
“Right here,” he said from beside me.
I slowly turned my head to look over at him. He was sitting on my bed beside me. “What happened to you?” he asked me quietly, his eyes pained as he looked over the bruises and cuts covering my body.
It all immediately rushed back to me, and I squeezed my eyes closed, the tears immediately beginning to run down my face. Heather. Fuck, did they find Heather? Please tell me the club found Heather.
I forced myself to sit up even though it hurt like hell. “I’ve got to talk to Cole or Travis—someone.” I hissed a breath through my teeth. “Heather—”
Dad cut me off, smoothing his hand over my hair. “Heather was found. Everyone is at her viewing—well, except Cole. He’s not doing too great. I heard him trashing his room earlier, but now I think he’s just drinking,” Dad muttered the last bit.
Fuck—Cole. I had to talk to him. He deserved to know how she died. I knew how; I could tell him, help ease his mind. After all, I did get a very vivid and detailed story of her rape, beating, and death. In fact, I was forced to suck the bastard off as he retold the story. The asshole was sick in the head and deserved to die. And I would make sure he did, no matter how much it backfired on the clubs.
Because he hadn’t just fucked with me. Now, he’d fucked with family.
I got up off of the bed, ignoring my parents’ protests. “You guys need to go. I need to get a shower and talk to Cole.”
My mom left the room, her eyes filled with worry and concern for me. My dad stood up. “Amelia, watch yourself. Cole isn’t that stable at the moment. Be careful.”
He walked out of the room, and with a tired sigh, I got in the shower. Showering turned out to be a task and a half, and I was damn near in tears when I was finally finished.
When I got out, I got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. And when I shrugged on my leather jacket, I didn’t add my cut on top like I normally did. I couldn’t wear it right now, not with the knowledge that I had a hand in Heather’s brutal end.
I slid on my boots and walked out of the room. I’d done my best to cover the cuts and bruises on the rest of my body, but since I didn’t wear make-up, my face was just going to be seen. And I knew it looked bad. Hell, it felt bad.
I walked into Cole’s room without knocking. He was sitting on the edge of his bed in just jeans, his upper body bare. He held a bottle of Jack in his hand. When he looked up at me, he glared. “Do you know how Heather was killed?” he asked me, not bothering to beat around the bush.
Fuck, I thought I could do this.
I turned my face away from him, a tear running down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Cole,” I whispered. “Fuck, it was all my fault.”
He stood up and walked over to me. I heard him set the bottle down, and then he grabbed my chin. I immediately yanked my face out of his hand, panic ensnaring my chest. I slapped his hand away, glaring at him. He stared at me for a few seconds before reaching forward again. He gripped my chin a little gentler and turned my face back toward him. “Amelia, I’m not going to hurt you,” he soothed, his voice a little more controlled than it had been when he first spoke to me. “I just want to know how she was killed. Fuck, I deserve to know.”
“H-he raped her and beat her.” I choked back a sob, a tear slipping down my cheek. “Then, because she was making too much noise, he shot her, clean through the forehead.” More tears ran down my face, remembering how I heard the story while I was forced to suck his dick until he got off, and the painful memory of seeing her body for days. “He fucked her dead body afterward,” I whispered. Vomit rose, but I swallowed it.
I’d never forget that fucking nightmare.
Cole held my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. “Did you watch all of that?” he asked me. I shook my head no in answer to his question. “Then, how do you know this?” he questioned, his voice soft as he ran his eyes over my beaten, swollen face.
I squeezed my eyes closed. Fuck, I just wanted to block it all out. I thought I could tell him; I thought I could answer all of his questions, but it was too fucking hard to relive all of that again, over and over, in my mind.