The Deception series boxset: FaCade, Cadence, Beneath Innocence (57 page)

His eyes widened as his life force diminished. People always said you could see the light dying in someone’s eyes when they died; this wasn’t the case. Hunter didn’t have any light to extinguish. It was odd to feel relief, I’d expected to feel guilt, horror, pity maybe but the power I had was euphoric, satisfying. No, justice was better than satisfying, it was strangely humbling.

Worrying he would die before I finished what I started, I dragged the blade down his body, flattening it when it reached his pubes and chuckling at how sharp the knife was when the fine little hairs severed effortlessly. “Now, Hunter, about not wanting cock. . . . .”

“Jens wake the fuck up, asshole.” I can faintly hear a noise but it’s muzzled by the pounding happening in my head. Hands grip around my arms and instincts take over, I leap up changing the position of me and whoever grabbed me. My arm pulls back ready to punch this fucker’s face in. A pale Faye looks up at me, her eyes impossibly large and then she winces. I feel the impact of a fist connecting with my jaw, knocking me sideways. The floor is rushing towards me and I land with an oomph, all the air emptying from my lungs. “No!” I hear Faye call out and Cade appears over me.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he asks with a deep growl and I groan my reply.

I manage to get up to my knees and spit the blood out that is filling my mouth. I look over at a shaking Faye and I feel like the biggest cunt there is, Cade went easy on me.

“I’m so sorry Faye,” I beg.

“It’s fine,” she whispers, standing and coming over to help me stand.

“Like fuck it is, don’t touch him, Baby. He’s disgusting, I’ll help him.”

Cade’s hands grip around my arm and he helps me get to my feet. “Shower?” He barks. I point to the door on the far wall. I get a quick glimpse around the room and Drake and Kimberly are nowhere in sight.

I’VE SHOWERED AND DRESSED IN
clean clothes, my head still bangs a hearty thump and my body feels like a truck hit me. “Love the hair.” Faye grins over at me. I run my hand over the small bristly spikes from where I shaved my full head. I was sporting a blue Mohawk for the last six months but I needed to rid myself of everything Blue related. I was a wreck, I nearly hit Faye. Shit, I was so ashamed at how far I had fallen and yet the only thing I wanted was to get high to forget about feeling this shitty.

“You’re fucked on drugs, you need rehab,” Cade growls at me, standing in front of his wife like some bodyguard. He was right but was high himself if he thought I was going to rehab.

“I have intense dreams and you both woke me. It was shock, you don’t have to stand over her like that,” I point at Faye, “I’d never fucking hurt her or any woman, and you know it.”

He strides over to me. “You’re my best friend and I’d do anything for you including trusting my woman’s life in your hands but right now you’re not you, the drugs and drink are taking their toll Jens and it’s a slippery slope, don’t do this to yourself. I can’t help you fix yourself if you’re not willing to let me.”

“What the actual fuck? I thought you came to visit me?”

“It’s an intervention, you need to listen to someone. We thought Cade would be the one.” Evan pipes up, coming into the room followed by the rest of my band mates.

“Is this a joke? What about the tour?” I laugh.

“After the tour Jen we only have six more nights here and then we break for four weeks.”

They were serious, I didn’t need rehab. I was a fucking rock star; drink, drugs and rock and roll? They were all hypocrites! They fucked and drank like it was a sport, if I needed rehab so did they.

I push past Cade and out of the door. I spot Kimberly coming from her dressing room. Slinging my arm over her shoulder I tell her we’re getting out of here.

“Buy whatever you want,” I declare to Kimberly, standing in a shoe shop she gushed over as we walked past. My bodyguards are giving me evil glares as they try to keep screaming fans at bay. I didn’t bother wearing my glasses or hat to disguise myself. I wanted to reap the rewards of my fame. The chanting and love pouring from my fans, I need to feel it, embrace it. Fuck everyone else this is what mattered. Cameras flashing and people screaming questions at me was the norm for me and I felt oddly at home.

Kimberly was burrowing into my armpit trying to cover her face. But I was reckless and fed the frenzy.

“Who’s the woman Jenson?”

“She’s my woman, we’re in love and getting married.” I jibed. We both laughed at them eating it up. My guards ushered us into my car and I made them take us to a hotel so we could get high without judgment.

YOU NEVER TURN OUT AS
strong as you expect yourself to be. You watch the news or a movie and your head is telling you no way would you be a victim like those people. You’d fight harder, kill them first, run faster, think smarter, but when you’re stolen and you’re weak in comparison to the strength of the people holding you down, you’re defenceless and completely at their mercy while you’re tied to equipment made for couples to act out sexual fantasies. Your body is abused and theirs to brutalize. Your mind betrays you and keeps you hostage in the horrifying moment while they violate you in all the ways that will make your life too hard to bear if you escape the nightmare. Your womb is destroyed and your womanly parts scarred and not your own.

Three months it took for it not to burn to pee, and six months for my bowels to pass without pain. I would never have children and my body wore scars like confetti.

I know I was labelled a whore by other women in the groupie crowd and laughed at for what happened to me, ‘she deserved it because she’s promiscuous and probably got herself into the wrong situation,’ one of my so called friends twittered. They don’t know the full extent of what I went through, they hear rumours, Chinese whispers and make up the rest.

It’s shocking how quickly friends become just people you once knew, how boyfriends become just another one of your conquests. How the man you actually loved becomes the one person you can’t bear to see yourself through. When I saw the guilt and pity in his eyes it destroyed the last thread of sanity and soul I had left.

I always thought once we both grew up a little we would end up together, I would fantasize about it. We could buy a place in the country and tell tales about how he was a rock star once upon a time.

I had trust and abandonment issues which caused me to be wary of affection and allowing myself to love and care about others. But it was all too late now. I walked away and he let me, I hid away from the world, trying to heal but it wasn’t working. Depression took its grip on me and pulled me under.

I tear myself open just to feel anything. The blood trail stings its fiery crimson path across my skin and I inhale the release.

“Martha, you in there? Trey’s downstairs,” Greg, one of Dad’s boys calls out to me. He was my personal bodyguard and fuck buddy, he was also my only friend right now because I had shut myself off from my two only real girlfriends Christine and Mary, they would drive me insane for details if they knew I was giving Greg regular workouts but it wasn’t for the thrill of no strings sex. I was a changed woman and I needed to take back my body and my control, so Greg let me play dominant female with him but as soon as the sweat dried on my skin I felt weak, vulnerable and disgusting. Trey was my boyfriend; he was from a rich well to do family and was nothing like any man I ever saw myself with. He wore sweater vests and played golf on weekends but he was safe, I had been seeing him for six months and he still hadn’t tried to have full on sex with me, he was waiting for marriage. I’d laugh if it didn’t make me feel safe with him.

I swipe away the blood and put a plaster over the slice I just made. “I’m coming Greg,” I call through the door. I look myself over in the mirror once more, my jet black hair curled and flowed over my shoulders. I had stripped the blue from it because it reminded me of Jenson. My blue eyes were complemented with a little mascara on my lashes, my lips were ruby red of their own making. I wore a sweater that covered me from neck to bottom and my blue jeans covered the rest.

I descend the stairs and ignore my Father’s whore cooing over Greg, she’s a money hungry slut and barely my age. I hated living here with them but still wasn’t ready to go out on my own. No matter how many times I tell myself I survived, I can get past this, I was still their victim. My own mind my tormentor repeating the attacks over and over, keeping me captive. The bastard’s responsible didn’t even exist anymore but I knew what men like them were capable of now and it’s a fear that’s wrapped its vines around my soul and kept me prisoner. I was always afraid I didn’t recognize this person I’d become. I needed to escape the old Blue who was the reason the attack happened yet the new me was pitiful and a shadow of the former confident, strong willed woman that once played host to this body. I have no direction or purpose anymore, I am just adrift.

“Martha, you look beautiful, doesn’t she Trey?” Dad’s whore squeals, the pitch of her voice vibrating my brain. The old me battles the new docile me with a response, I want to tell her to stop using her overinflated lips on trying to play mommy and go use them to suck the dick that paid for them, like she’s supposed to, but instead I smile and link my arm with Trey’s.