Free Back Where We Belong (A Second Chances New Adult Romance) by Alana Hart, Caia Fox Page B

sounding.
    “Brad's girl. The noisy one. Kept
me awake half the week.” Charlie sways against the bed, a bottle of vodka or
something in his hand. He leers at me. The door shuts behind him, blocking out
the sound of the party.
    I get up, livid. All the time
Brad has been taking me out, sweet-talking to me, kissing me, trying to get
into my blouse, he had someone else.
    He grabs hold of my arm. “Don't
be like that, babe. Charlie doesn't know what he's saying. Natalie isn't here
tonight. She had to go to some family thing or other. And she's always fucking
studying. We can still have a good time. You were up for it two minutes ago.”
    “Leave me alone.” There’s no way
I’m staying here. “I'm going home.”
    Charlie looks on. He doesn't seem
to care that he's wrecked his friend's chances of ever dating me. I'm just some
girl he doesn't know and doesn't care about. And he knows Brad probably doesn't
care either.
    “I never said I wasn't seeing
anyone else,” Brad says. “We can still have fun. A whole lot of fun.”
    I try to pull my arm free, but he
won't let me go.
    “Oh, a struggler, I like that.”.
    “Stop it! I'm going home.”
    “You're not going anywhere,” he
says. “Not until I'm finished with you.”
    I gasp, fear taking my breath
away. I don't know him at all. His face has changed. He pulls me back so I fall
on the bed and wrenches my blouse open again where I'm still trying to hold it
closed.
    “Get off me!” I struggle and
kick.
    “Hold her legs, Charlie,” he says.
“This cock-teaser is not going anywhere...”

CHAPTER 25
MADISON
 
     
     
    They say one of the worst things
when you are raped is how dirty you feel. And it's true. When they finally let
me go, I grab my clothes and run home through the night, not caring that I have
no shoes, no purse. I can't go back for them no matter how much the cold gravel
hurts my feet. My keys are still in my pocket. I can get in!
    I scrub myself clean in the
shower. I can't stop shaking or crying. I long for Chelsea to get back to help
me. I want to call her but I don't think she'll hear her phone at the party and
then I realize mine is in my purse anyway. I can't call anyone.
    Chelsea doesn't make it home that
night to see me at my worst. It's morning when she returns to find me shivering
in bed under my blanket. She feels guilty for introducing me to Brad, but it's
not her fault. It's my fault for trusting him, for trusting any guy really.
None of them are worth it.
    I want her to help me go to the
police.
    “Of course I'll help you if
that's what you want. But are you sure that's a good idea?” she says. “Every
girl who does that always seems to suffer for it.”
    “I can't let them get away with
it.”
    “But think about it,” she says.
“Their kind always have great lawyers, and you don't have any evidence. You
washed that away. They'll say you were drinking. That you went to his room.
That you led Brad on. They might not believe you, and you'll have to face Brad
and Charlie in court. Have your word doubted. It's two against one. Your
reputation will be shot for nothing.”
    So I don't report it, and they
get off scot free.
    But I don’t. I can't get away
from what they did. I live with it every day. I live with it because I can't
stop thinking about it. I live with it when I have to get tested for pregnancy
and disease. I live with it because they are still around and I'm terrified of
seeing them again. I live with it because I can't sleep. That's when the
nightmares come.
    I wake up night after night in a
cold sweat after reliving what they did to me as if I were still there in that
room. I see them put a chair under the door handle to keep it closed, and
experience again how it felt when they held me down to stop me struggling and
stuffed my panties in my mouth to stop me making a noise and laughed at the
sight.
    I have to relive how they treat
me as if I'm nothing. A worthless piece of meat. “Stick it in that cunt,
Charlie,” Brad