Page 40 of I Will Break You
“Do not bend the truth!”
My eyes widen. How the hell would he know I fudged the timeline? “A-Alright. On my way out, I found a threatening note and a picture, and I called the police. By the time they left, I arrived at the penitentiary late. The woman at the door wouldn’t let me in”
“Excuses.”
“No.” I stare into those glowing eyes within the depths of his hood. “That’s the truth.”
“You didn’t love me enough to put aside the threat. You didn’t trust me to protect you from your enemies.”
“But you were going to die…” My voice trails off. “How was I supposed to know you’d come back as a vengeful spirit?”
His snarl sends every fine hair on my body standing to red alert. “Because I said we would be together, even if it meant defying death.”
He said all of that more than once. I dismissed it as meaningless fluff fueled by lust—the kind of word salad men use when they’re hot and horny and hungry to hook up.
“What now?” I ask, the ache in my clit subsiding.
He draws so close to my pussy that his cool presence sends a shiver through my core. “Tell me you consent, and I will make you come.”
“Consent to what?”
“Everything on that sex contract,” he says, his mouth ghosting over my folds.
Since none of this is technically real, and I meant everything I said in those letters, I have nothing to lose. It’s been an eternity since someone other than myself gave me an orgasm, so why don’t I take advantage ofmy imagination?
“Fuck, yeah,” I say, my hips lifting.
He pulls back. “You must be sure.”
“I am. I am.”
“Good girl.”
Rising, he clamps a hand over my face, pressing a wad of fabric into my nose. I gasp at his touch, inhaling an overwhelming scent of chemicals.
My eyes water. My sinuses sting. I thrash my head from side to side, trying to break free, but his grip is like iron. The edges of my vision blur, turning the room into a kaleidoscope of darkness.
“Sleep, my love,” he says.
Stomach lurching, I cling to consciousness, but everything goes black.
TWENTY-THREE
Alderney State Penitentiary,
Dear Amethyst,
My father is too intelligent to admit to engineering my cruel upbringing. He allowed the situation to escalate until hatred seeped into my blood. The brothers always put me into fights I couldn’t win, and every day brought with it pain and humiliation.
Some attacks left me unconscious. I sustained cracked ribs,a broken nose, fractured fingers, a dislocated shoulder, and bleeding from one of my ears. Dread was my constant companion. These people didn’t care if I lived or died.
Things changed when the two older brothers left our elementary school, leaving just me and the youngest. You must understand that daily violence and cruelty had robbed me of all mercy. Each injury deepened my hatred and sharpened my need for vengeance.
One day, the youngest brother cornered me in the bathroom with two friends, and something inside me snapped. Every ounce of resentment that festered in my soul broke free. I let loose and pummeled his face.
His friends tried to intervene, but my fury had surpassed thepoint of pain. I slammed that bastard’s face into a urinal and didn’t stop until a teacher pulled me off.
My brother got taken away on a stretcher, and I was escorted to the principal’s office. When he gave me a speech about being the better person, I spat blood over his desk. That sanctimonious bastard sat back for years, saying nothing as I served as the school punching bag.