Free For Everything by Rae Spencer Page A

changed?”
    “He became mean,” she whispered.
    His fingers stilled on her cheek. “Mean, how?”
    “He called me names, pushed me…,” she hesitated, her eyes finding the ceiling again.
    His fingers moved over her nose. “And?”  
    “Hit me.” Her lip trembled.
    His teeth clenched waiting for her to continue.
    “He took my parents house, forced me to sign the title over to him,” she whispered, rolling her head, looking across the room.
    Clay stiffened.
    “He said it was for the best.” Tears traveled down her face. “I was too young to own a house.”
    “How old were you?” he asked.
    She swallowed. “Seventeen, he said I could still live in the house.”
    “You could still live in the house,” he growled lowly.
    She blinked repeatedly, staring out the window. “He had some of his friends move in. They all lived in my parent’s house, partied, and had girls over.”
    Clay wiped the tears off her face. “He had other girls over to be with him, while you were there.”
    She closed her eyes. “He didn’t like being with me, because I was cold, he needed variety, someone who…”
    “Who what?” he asked, the fingers of his other hand clenching tightly.
    “Who understood how to please a man.” Her cheeks burned, her fingers gripping the bedspread.
    “He was your first, only?” he stroked the scars on her stomach.
    “Yes,” Lily whispered.
    Clay grazed her breastbone. “When?”
    She didn’t answer not sure what he was asking.
    He skimmed her breast, touching lightly, “How old were you?”
    “Seventeen,” she replied honestly, wishing it were dark where she felt comfortable.
    “How soon after your parent’s death,” he asked, his finger tracing circles around her nipple.
    She shifted, her fingers fisting in the bedspread. “A week.”
    “A week,” he gasped, his fingers tightening inadvertently on her breast.
    “I didn’t like the sex, didn’t understand why people did,” she confessed, sensing his growing anger she added quickly. “Not until the first night with you.”
    He teased her nipples again, brushing them gently as his eyes searched hers. “What happened next?”
    “I found out I was pregnant.” She felt her fingers tingle from her tight grip.
    “Pregnant,” he whispered, “what happened?”
    “He didn’t want a baby, especially with me. He dragged me to this doctor.” She swallowed repeatedly, her voice catching, squeezing her eyes closed.
    His fingers stopped moving, leaning forward he watched her. “What happened?”
    “I don’t remember,” she whispered, refusing to open her eyes, “he knocked me out.”
    “How did he knock you out?” he asked.
    She raised her hand to her head. “I bled terribly. He wouldn’t take me to the doctor.”
    His fingers lay still on her breast, his breath escaping in a rush.
    “The pain was so bad, after he and his friends fell asleep I drove myself to the hospital. The doctor said they botched the abortion, had damaged me inside, said I would probably never…,” she trailed off unable complete the sentence.
    “Probably never what?” Clay remembered their shopping trip, knew what her answer would be. He swallowed pass the lump in his throat.
    “They… said… I… I…,” she glanced at him, her pain visible. “They said I would probably never be able to have children.”
    “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, brushing her lips in the gentlest touch.
    She looked away from him back out the window, into the darkness.
    “What happened next?” He moved his fingers over her breast to her collarbone.
    “I wanted out,” she shifted, “I didn’t care about my parent’s house. I just wanted to get away so he couldn’t hurt me anymore.”
    “What did you do?” he asked.
    “I went to the police,” she whispered, “one of my friends went with me.”
    “And,” Clay prompted when she remained silent.
    “The detective called my trustees; they were going to make arrangements for me. The detective said he had taken