Chapter Seven

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Avery stood in front of her mirror, looking at her body. She was never really comfortable with herself. She wasn't the tallest, certainly not as tall as Leah. Any weight she gained, was always noticeable thanks to her height and curves.

With the bruises marring her soft skin, she hated herself even more. She thought herself ugly and weak. Her bruises told a tale about how she was too weak to defend herself. She was helpless, tired and lost.

The only thing she ever liked about herself was the hair she inherited from her mother and the eyes from her father.

Avery sighed and noted the bruised cheeks and those that littered over her abdomen. She couldn't understand why she did this to herself, stood in front of the mirror, assessed the damage that she couldn't do anything about.

Who would want to marry this?

She decided to avoid looking in the mirror and instead cleaned herself up and headed to bed.

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A scream escaped her lips when she was dragged out of bed by her tangled hair. She landed on the carpeted floor painfully, her still healing body was reacting to every movement. In the dark room she didn't need the light to know who it was. There was only one person who was this vicious and violent toward her.

A hard kick found its way to her gut and ribs. Any effort made to shield or protect herself was in vain. Yelps and cries followed each hit along with the sound of fist on flesh. Her arms, head, abdomen, were all hit mercilessly. He was still able to avoid her face even in his drunken haze.

"You bitch," Jeremiah slurred as he panted. "You took my Leah's happiness. My opportunity."

He grunted when he sent a hard punch to the side of her head. She pleaded for him to stop. He bent down to her level. He was so close she could smell the pungent scent of alcohol on his breath.

"Don't you fuckin' tell me what to do," he growled. "What'd ya do? Fuck 'em? Suck 'em? You're a filthy slut." Jeremiah spewed insults to the crying woman. "You shoulda died with your good for nothin' father and French bitch of a mother. You waste of space."

His large hand grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her. With a surprising amount of strength and coordination he pulled her to the bed and easily pinned her on her stomach. "Should I show ya how they treat whores like you?" he grunted in her ear. Jeremiah's drunken hand harshly slid down her waist and to the waist band of her pants. The moment she felt him toy with the elastic she struggled, ignoring the pain in her shoulder.

"N-No! Please, no!" she screamed and cried.

"Shut the fuck up!" Using his strength and large form, Jeremiah sent her over the bed and into the adjacent wall. Avery collided with the floor and pain pulsed through her entire body.

Jeremiah stomped to the door where he muttered, "not worth the fuckin' trouble."

Later that morning when Avery made it to work, she was thankful that Jeremiah didn't hit her or even yell at her all that much. She mostly received grunts in response. His hangover kept him quiet and she didn't hear much from him apart from his usual requests.

"How's it goin'?" Russell asked lazily, a loud crunch echoed as he bit into his apple.

Avery looked up and smiled at him. "Good. He's quiet today, I suspect he has a hangover."

Russell chuckled and leaned on the door frame. "That's always a good thing."

"What can I do for you Russ?"

He put on a pathetic façade of faux hurt. "Trying to get rid of me that easily?"

Avery chuckled. "Of course not."

"You're coming with me tomorrow night," he declared, a wicked and devious grin spread across his face.

She pursed her lips. "I have work to do, Russell."

Russell merely shrugged. "I already cleared it with him." He rolled his eyes and nodded towards the office. "He won't care as long as you have your work done, which you always do."

Avery sighed and relented. "Where are we going?"

"A club."

A groan escaped her. She didn't like clubs. They meant people and they were just so... loud. "But-"

"No buts! You're coming with me Ave." He smirked and backed away, "don't worry it'll be fun!"

As he backed up, he nearly backed into Aaron, who was glaring at him.

"Oh, sorry man!" Russell quickly apologized and casually walked off.

"Who was that?" Aaron snapped as soon as he stepped into her office.

Avery blinked a couple of times at him and realized he was becoming more agitated with her silence. "Um, that's Russell..." Her eyebrows scrunched together. Everyone in the company knew who Russell was, he was a social butterfly and the next CEO. "Don't you know who he is?"

"I wouldn't ask if I knew, Avery," he ground out. "Why the hell was he here?"

She stood from her desk warily. "Calm down, Aaron. He-"

Aaron stepped forward and caught her wrist in a tight grip and tugging her closer. "Don't tell me to calm down." His frown deepened while she winced. "Answer my question."

"He- He's my brother. Russell Adley, the next CEO." Avery answered quickly and breathlessly. "He usually visits. What's it to you?"

His grip loosened and his features softened. "Avery, I-I'm so sorry. I just felt really... protective over you." He sighed and looked at her apologetically. "It won't happen again."

"It better not." Avery mumbled and rubbed her wrist.

"I promise." He gave her a small smile, one she may have found mildly comforting before, but now it was sinister. "How about I buy you lunch?"

"I can't leave the office today. Maybe some other day." She said as she moved back to her seat, being as casual as possible so as not to provoke him.

"Okay, I'll buy you lunch next time."

Avery watched him leave, still in shock at what happened. Any appetite she had was lost after that encounter.

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"Stupid, stupid, stupid." He sat at his desk hitting his head repeatedly with a closed fist. He stopped and breathed in deeply. A gentle smile stretched his lips. "It's okay, she's yours, she's yours. Don't worry, she's forgiving," he murmured quietly to himself.

He loved her for a long time. The first time he ever saw those exquisite teary eyes, he knew she was his. He was angry someone else made her cry, but she said her cat died and it eased his soul a little to know it wasn't from another.

He imagined a life for the two of them. Her round with his child. He would come home to a sweet smile in a house with a white picket fence and dinner on the table. She would quit her job and become devoted to him and his children. The thought of their future made him smile. Her family could be problematic, but that was okay, he would go to any lengths for her.

He wanted to be the only one who loved her.

The only one she loved.

The only one she hated.

The only one to see her.

The only one to hold her.

The only one to kiss her.

The only one to occupy her.

The only one to hurt her.

The only one to make her cry.

The only one to protect her.

But he wouldn't protect her from himself. 

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