Free Take Me With You by Melyssa Winchester Page B

operate. I would never think to do something that mean to someone, even if they did deserve it. There’s no way I can make her think that I’m like her. I’m better than that.
    It’s not funny and you can tell me anything. I won’t tell anyone. It can be our secret.
    Time passes sickening slow as I wait for a response from her. I hate even thinking this way. After everything she’s put me and my friends through, I shouldn’t want to help her, let alone keep her secrets, but that’s exactly what I want to do. I meant what I said before I left the office earlier. I want to be her lifeline, the same way Belle is mine.
    One minute turns into two, and then two into four and just as I’m about to give up on hearing from her at all, prepared to drop my phone and completely leave my room altogether, the screen lights up and there’s a new message.
    A message that makes my blood run cold.
    He touched me. Did things to me. He still does.
     

Chapter Eight
     
    Amelia
     
    There’s a word for what I am now, but it’s something that I don’t want to admit to being. It’s something I can’t admit to because if I do, it makes me weak and I promised myself years ago that was the last thing I would ever be.
    Vulnerable.
    I’ve never told another living soul what I just texted to Eric, but there’s no denying the huge sense of relief that takes over the minute I’ve typed the words out and sent them. Telling my mom, it wouldn’t do any good. I know that if this was her I was talking to, the relief wouldn’t be there.  All that would be there is judgment. She would turn this around somehow and make it about her, all the while looking down on me for letting it happen at all.
    That’s the problem with secrets. You can never be sure what the reaction will be once they come out. It’s why people hold onto them so tightly. They fear the judgment, looks and overall attitude change that comes with admitting the truth.
    It feels good getting it out even though the words I’ve typed are as far from good as it gets. It’s the kind of information that nightmares are born of and now that I’ve dumped it in Eric’s lap, he’s going to experience them firsthand, there’s no way he won’t.
    It’s been ten minutes since I sent the text and there’s been no response. Truth is, I expected that to happen. He probably doesn’t even believe me. I’ve given him no reason to trust me up until this point so if he thinks I’m just fucking with him, he wouldn’t entirely be wrong in it. I just don’t want him to think that way.
    I want him to believe me.
    Flicking the lighter, watching the flame rise and fall as I release the pressure every couple of seconds, I can feel the bile rising in my throat. Admitting this, as good as it felt finally getting it out also has the disadvantage of making me sick inside and out. It brings the reality of the situation to the surface until it’s all I can feel. A full body experience.
    I’m right back in my bed, it’s the middle of the night and my father is grunting on top of me, calling out my name as he finishes, my screams muffled with the way I’m pushed into his chest.
    Fuck. This was a mistake. I never should have opened my mouth. I’m not allowed to feel any sort of relief. I don’t deserve it. I lost the right a very long time ago. I’m nothing but a dirty whore, one that even now still bends to the man I call my father. No amount of strength can stop him and believe me I’ve tried. I’m always going to be at his mercy and it’s exactly what I deserve.
    Please let me call you. I don’t want to text about this anymore.
    Can I really speak about this out loud? I’ve never done it before. Even with the doctor, I admit things but in a sheltered way so that I never actually say the words out loud. He asks the questions, probing me and I give him just enough to paint the picture without acknowledging it.
    Eric calling me, I would have to say the words out loud, the ones I’ve been