90 DEADLY DAYS (WEEKLY UPDATES RETURNING THIS DECEMBER)

Chapter 38

Sorry if you guys recently got bombarded with updates. I'm shortening chapters! Just bear with me lol.

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Chapter 38

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"Don't put the blame on me."

He yanks my hair, forcing me to look up.

"I'm a man. I make mistakes. You were one of them. Get over it. There's worse things that could've happened. I could've done worse."

He wants to shut me up. Wants me to hide the visible pain. With the pain exposed there's no running from the constant reminder of his sin. No matter how cruel he becomes it will always there, seeing straight through him. Especially when the one he exploited is looking right at him with her haunted eyes.

Our stare holds for a minute. Butcher's breath catches. He drops my locks like they're diseased. Backing away, he drags a shaky hand down his face. He squeezes his eyes shut. He barely breathes. Hold them at bay, his body screams. Fight it.

But you can't run from your dragons.

They will always find you.

I would know.

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Snowy skies for days. An endless cage of snow. This is what remains when the blizzard ends.

Butcher suits up against the freeze. He marches around in his soldier-ish manner, doing everything he can to avoid me. Pulling his pistol and rusted dagger out of hiding, he hurriedly leads us into the drifts, far away from the tense silence. This time he doesn't give me my own weapon. The small, infinitesimal trust we had for each other died the other night. That's if you call what we had trust. Leverage is a better word.

He barely speaks to me. All those ironic smirks slipped down the drain. The air between us is as cold as ice melting down your back.

At this point he may just let me go. I've become a visual reminder of his own depravity.

Until he does I'm trapped. I'll see this abuser every bleak morning, every starry night, and everything in-between.

Other girls have hung themselves long before this point. I say that not to point out their weakness, but their strength—their intelligence. They were smarter than me. They understood there was no escaping the constant misery. They were brave enough to make their own way to freedom.

And freedom was in the dying.

Sometimes, that is the only way you can have power.

But not all of us are brave enough to try.

Back home, after Cuth, I didn't know what to do. I met other girls. Girls who had courage enough to tell the truth. But they were branded victims by the rest of the world. Whispered about behind hands. Carted off to facilities to regain their 'identities' while their abusers sat in courts with judges who were so eager to preserve fairness that they forgot about the wronged.

The statute of limitations had passed.

She was an unreliable source.

The kit expired.

Yes, the ones that cut the cord were the strongest. Because they had the courage to know their hopes were only delusions.

God help me.

I can't stop clinging to mine.

And I know wishing for death is wrong. Don't listen to what I said before. It's hard to explain. Killing yourself is wrong, but those girls weren't weak for letting go. I won't cluck my tongue at them. People don't understand how hard holding on is. How much more difficult it is to be strong while you live through the pain. The alternative seems so much easier.