𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"God, yes. More."

One of his hands grabbed one of my breasts and he kneaded it hard, surely bruising me, but again, I couldn't care less. 

With a few final thrusts, he pushed me over the edge, holding a hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming his name and scarring Isaac for life.

—

The next day, Isaac left just after lunch to 'visit mom and dad', but I knew better. The enormous smile on his face told me he was going to see Kelly, and I could only be happy for him. I guess she has a heart after all.

So, Noah and I had the house for ourselves, and we spent that time curling up on the couch, watching Netflix.

"Do you want something?" he asked from the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards.

I slowly turned my head, trying to keep my eyes on the screen. Noah had put on another serial killer documentary, and I was hooked. "No, thanks."

He chuckled softly, walking around the couch with a glass of juice in his hands, placing it on the table, and plopping next to me.

I was just about to lean into him, when the doorbell rang.

"Oh, for fucks sake," Noah mumbled, pausing the TV and walking to the front door to open it.

I leaned over the back of the couch to see who it was, and I frowned when I saw an unfamiliar man.

"What are you doing here?" Noah asked, his tone harsh and his body language screaming fear and tension.

I stumbled from the couch to join him, grabbing his hand as I looked up to the man. He seemed to be in his fifties, and the obviously tailored suit he was wearing gave me the impression that he was wealthier than you'd assume.

"You can't do this to your mother," he said, and the smell of cigarettes and expensive cologne filled my nostrils.

Noah just clenched his jaw, threatening to break the bones in my hand with how tight he was holding it.

"Who are you?" I questioned, curious to know who had Noah so on edge.

The man shifted his gaze to me, narrowing his dark eyes as he did. I felt a little intimidated, especially when he looked me up and down.

His eyes rested on my hand in Noah's before he replied coldly, as if the words disgusted him. "I am Noah's stepfather."

Noah let out a harsh breath, pulling me a little back into the house, creating distance between us and his stepfather.

"Leave, Wyatt," Noah hissed, grabbing the door.

"Noah, don't be so immature. You can't ignore your mother forever."

I looked at Noah's free hand on the door, his knuckles turning white with how tight he was gripping it.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," he spat back, his chest rising and falling at an alarming pace, anger visibly bubbling to the surface.

I wanted to comfort him, slam the door in Wyatt's face and give Noah a tight hug, but some part of me knew he wouldn't let me.

"You need to call your mother," Wyatt continued, ignoring all the warning signs Noah was giving off as he brought his face closer to his. "Or I'll make you."

That was it. Noah released me, pulling his arm back and attempting to punch Wyatt in the face, but he was quicker, grabbing Noah's arm before he could properly hit him.

"Tsk, tsk. Didn't you learn anything from last time? Or maybe you need a couple of extra years behind bars."

I almost missed the comment about prison as I connected some dots in my head, and I instantly got nauseous. Noah's stepfather...someone he was supposed to look up to.

"Could you please leave, sir? Or I'll be forced to call the authorities," I said, sounding more confident than I was.

Wyatt shot me an annoyed look, turning around without saying another word.

I almost collapsed when the door closed behind him, feeling relieved that the awful man finally left.

Noah ran his hands over his face, taking deep breaths as he slowly walked back to the couch and sat down.

"It's him, isn't it?" I questioned softly, approaching him with caution.

Noah nodded, beckoning me to come closer. I took a seat next to him, pulling him against my chest and I brushed my fingers over his dark hair.

"How long?" I asked, scared to know the answer. I had no idea why I even asked, since it was something people would be happier about not knowing.

Noah let out a breath, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me tight. "Eight years."