Chapter Ten

"You look exhausted." Milo leans against the counter, sipping on freshly brewed coffee. "I made you a cup."

"Thank you." I rub my burning eyes, trying to remember what happened last night, but I can't.

I know I had a wet dream. I know I orgasmed, but it is the phantom voice, the hands I thought I felt on me, and the tongue between my legs that give me pause. There were moments when it felt real. I remember waking up once and nothing— no one— was there.

It had to be a dream.

Or I had to be sleepwalking because I woke up with bloody sheets since I didn't put in my menstrual cup. I could have sworn I did, but I found it clean and on the floor this morning before I showered all the dried blood from between my legs.

He slides the mug across the counter and stares at me.

I lift my gaze from the surface of the coffee as I take a sip. "What?"

"You look like shit," he says bluntly.

I snort. "Where's my favorite sibling? She is much nicer than you."

"She is at work pulling a double. I just call it like I see it."

I roll my eyes, yawning for so long, Milo begins to laugh. "Shut up," I grumble. "I didn't sleep well last night." And I had to change the sheets on my bed and shower to wash the dried blood from my legs. "A nap is definitely in my future today."

"You don't have to go to the diner?"

I shake my head. "No, Demi dropped me to one to two shifts a week so I can focus on the renovation. She also said I can come in whenever I want."

"She is the best. We got lucky finding this town. I don't want to leave."

I sit my mug down, tapping the counter with my fingertips. "Did you plan to?"

"No, no, I'm just saying, I don't ever want to leave. I've never really liked a place so much before."

"You sound like you have one foot out the door."

He shakes his head. "I promise I don't." He downs the rest of his coffee, setting it in the sink. "What are your plans today with the renovation?"

"A few deliveries. They are going to finish the roof. I have people coming to get started on the main bedroom and bathroom. Hopefully, within the next couple of months, this house will be done."

"Busy day ahead. I'm proud of you."

I grin, blushing from words I have only heard a few times in my life. "Thanks."

The doorbell rings and I jump, startled by the sound. I place my hand against my chest and we both chuckle.

"That scared me more than it should have." I slide from the chair and tighten the belt around my waist.

Opening the door, a delivery guy is standing there in a brown uniform and holding a package.

"Are you Mickey Bloom?"

I close the door slightly, so it doesn't seem like an invitation for him to come inside. "I am."

"I just need your signature."

"Sure." I sign for the package, and he hands it over. "Thank you." It's heavier than I expected and rattles. I'm trying to think about what I ordered that could sound like that. I've bought so much lately, I can't remember.

"No problem. Have a good day," he waves, hurrying to his truck. "Nice statue," he shouts.

The truck grumbles to life, drowning out my thanks, and I'm left staring at my gargoyle statue, only this time, something is different.

His cock can be seen. It's long, wide, and hard. My clit pulses between my legs and the memory of my dream last night tickles the back of my mind.

"Rhett," I say quietly, wondering who that is and why I remember it being whispered to me.

Maybe it's the voice in the back of my mind that I named.

"Because that doesn't sound crazy," I sigh to myself, taking one last look at the statue and bite my lip because I've never noticed how it— he— was naked before.

It's odd how he is there sometimes and not others. I snicker. "Maybe he is a real gargoyle." I kick the door shut, leaving the stupid words outside.

The jingle of keys clinks together. Milo stuffs them in his pocket before grabbing his phone and wallet.

"Your security system is being installed today so whatever you do, don't leave the house, alright?"

I set the package on the counter, cutting the seam open with a knife. "Where am I going to go? I like it here too much. I have everything I need, including a big lake. Maybe I'll go swimming today." And then I remember the dead deer I gave to the crocodile.

Okay, so I probably won't go swimming today since a dead deer is probably floating in the lake.

"Okay, text me when the security is in place. Maybe this house will actually look like a home soon."

I mock him playfully, parting the flaps of the box before peering inside. My smile fades. My stomach churns with painful memories. Bile creeps its way up my throat. Tears build and fall in an instant. My body shakes. Memories I've tried to forget resurface, and I remember the pain of every scar he gave me.

"No. No, no, no. No!" I scream at pandora's box and back away.

"Mickey? What? What is it?" He peeks into the box and his concern flips to anger in the next beat of my heart. "What the fuck? Is this some kind of sick joke? Who sent this to you?" He closes the panels of the box to read the label, then slams his fist on the counter. "There isn't a return address."

I curl against the wall, bringing my knees to my chest, and wrap my arms around them. "He is dead. He is dead. He is dead," I chant, replaying the day I escaped. "I killed him, Milo. I remember. I remember driving the bottle into his neck. He bled out."

"These can't be from him. Right? They can't be. You said…" He swallows, then clears his throat. "You said you were chained." He lifts the chains from the box, the metal clinking against each other has me flinching. "Are these the chains?"

"I can't look," I tell him, my bottom lip trembling. "I can't look. Please, Milo. Please, don't make me." I turn my head to the side, staring at the old fridge that came with the house.

His footsteps scuff against the new floors and he squats, his shadow playing on the wall. "I know you don't want to look, but I need you to, and then we are calling Jake, okay? He needs to know if these are the chains because then that fucking asshole isn't dead and that's a big fucking problem. If he isn't, I'm going to kill him myself. Remember, you aren't alone anymore, Mick. No one is going to get to you."

I shut my eyes and wipe my cheeks, taking a deep breath to gather the courage I need to. When I open my eyes, Milo is holding out the chains, and time seems to stop. He places the metal chain in my hands and the weight of them feels the exact same.

"So many chains are made, right? I mean, these couldn't be it."

"This isn't random," I say, running my fingers down the links. "These aren't new, and I know they are mine." I stare at the lock at the end of the chain, turning it over to show Milo the engraving.

Mickey, My Pet.

I toss the chains on the floor. "He's alive. This is him telling me he knows where I'm at. He's going to come looking for me, Milo. I should have died in that house. Everything would be easier if I had just died." My voice is monotone. My gaze is caught on the off-white refrigerator, staring into space. "I should have died."

"Hey, don't you dare fucking talk like that. Do you understand me? You shouldn't have died because Minnie and I can't live without you. You matter. Don't let that piece of shit win. He won't. He can come back, and he can try to take you, but he won't. Don't ever talk like that again. Ever." He turns my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Do you understand?"

I nod. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He just makes me wish I were dead. He has this—" I shake my head, staring at the ceiling to stop myself from crying. "He has this hold over me that I can't explain. Not in a good way, but like I depended on him for survival, Milo. There were plenty of times when I thought I was going to die, and he made sure I didn't. It's fucked up. It's like…" I curl my hand into my chest, holding my heart while the tendons begin to break. "I'm trained. He's trained me."

"No, you were abused. You are not trapped. You are free of him."

"Am I? Am I really?" I force myself to my feet, using the wall as leverage to pull myself up. "Look at me, Milo. I'm scared every day. I'm afraid to fall asleep because most of the time his face is in my dreams. I'm always scared. He has broken me. I'm ruined because of him. I'll never be the same."

"You shouldn't be the same. Not after that. And you are so far from broken. Do you know how in awe I am of you? You have started over. You bought this house. Look how much work you have put in. You are building your life back and that is not easy." His Adam's apple bobs, and he places his hands on either side of my neck where it meets my shoulder. Milo's lashes become wet and when he peers up from the floor, a singular tear breaks free.

He never cries. Ever.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you." He wipes his cheek on his shoulder. "I should have been a better brother. I should have come to the house more. I should have—"

I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tight, crying with him. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare blame yourself. I knew when you came over. I heard you. I heard your voice anytime I was trapped in the closet." I pull away and cup his face. "You came to the house all the time. You called all the time. I was worried he would kill you. You pissed him off so much. You did everything you could, Milo."

He shakes his head, a loud sob escaping him. "I didn't. I should have done more. I should have done a better job of protecting you. That was my job!" he yells. "I should have killed him when I had suspicions about what was going on."

"You had to consider me too. There was too much at stake."

"No, I should have done more to get you out and that's on me. I'll have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life." He fumbles to get the phone out of his pocket. "I'm going to call Jake personally." Milo touches the screen a few times and places it against his ear.

"Milo—"

He doesn't let me say another word, giving me his back. He picks up the chains, tosses them in the box, and like the amazing brother he is, removes the package from my line of sight.

Ty can't be alive. I ripped his jugular apart. I stabbed him.

I sit back down on the floor, replaying all the pain and suffering Ty caused me.

"Stupid Girl."

"You should have known better."

"Spread your legs. Don't make a sound."

I take a deep breath, trying to slow Ty's voice in my head, trying to think of Rhett's. Rhett might be a figment of my imagination, but he makes me feel better. He chases away the pain and suffering.

At this point of my mental downfall, does it matter if Rhett is real or not?

I close my eyes to focus, to try and hear Rhett, the man who gave me strength to swing at my pain.

He's silent.

And without his voice, one of the worst memories I have reels me in. I sink deeper into it, losing myself in the night when I tried to run to survive.

My legs burn. My throat hurts. My feet are cut from all the small twigs lying on the ground. I can't stop. This is my chance. I have to get away. Tears from pain and fear blur my vision as I sprint through the woods behind the forest.

Ty thought he locked the chain to the hook.

He didn't.

I had to take the opportunity. I had to run for my life.

I decided to take my chances in the woods behind the house. Thinking I would be able to hide more easily.

At the time, it was a good idea.

Now? I didn't realize how out of shape I was, how much weight I've lost, and my endurance is non-existent. The pouring rain isn't making it easier. My bare feet slide against the dirt, my toes digging into the mud. I grip the chain attached to my neck, keeping it out of my way so I don't trip.

"You Stupid Girl!" His voice echoes through the forest, reminding me he is never far behind. "I'm going to fucking get you and when I do, you better be ready. I swear to God, I'm going to beat the shit out of you. Do you hear me? Stop now and maybe I won't make you wish you were dead."

I keep running, my nightgown soaked from the rain and completely sticking to my body. I want to yell for help. I want to scream. If I do, he'll find me. All I need to do is find a road, wave down a car, and I'll be free.

It's so much easier said than done.

I shout in pain when I trip over a small tree root sticking out of the ground. I grab onto my ankle, wanting to scream in agony, but that won't do any good. That won't save me. Pushing myself up, I use the nearest tree for support. The bark scratches my palm and I lean against the trunk, just for a second, just to catch my breath.

"You won't get far," he sings, coming closer. "Think about your siblings, Mickey! Think about what I'll do to them if you leave me. Do you want Minnie to take your place?" he yells, his voice an eerie haunt over my shoulder. "You want Minnie on my bed? Imagine all the wicked things I'd do to her."

I start running again, holding in my cries. I know he is lying. He wouldn't do anything to Minnie. I know that deep down. He'd get in trouble. He wouldn't be able to get away with it.

My fear says otherwise.

"You must really want your sister in my bed, Stupid Girl."

I whimper with every stride, my ankle throbbing. The pain makes me fall. Mud flies against my face. Dirt embeds itself under my nails. I wheeze, struggling to breathe, inhaling rain and drowning slowly.

A car horn blows in the distance. The rush of the vehicles passing each other has me trying to get onto my feet. My arms shake with weakness and pushing myself up hurts so fucking bad.

"You're one Stupid Girl." He snags me by the back of the hair and shoves my face into the mud.

I can't breathe.

"You thought you could get away from me?" He straddles my legs and lifts my dress and I hear the zipper of his pants lowering. "You'll never get away from me."

"Mickey? Ms. Bloom?"

I blink the memory away, sniffling when I hear a different voice that isn't Ty's.

"Mickey?" Milo's voice is next, and his hand is cupping my jaw. "Mick, are you with us?"

I nod, pressing the end of my sleeves against my eyes to soak up the tears causing my vision to blur.

"Where'd you go?" he questions, eyes dancing over my face.

"You don't want to know."

He frowns, keeping his thoughts to himself. I know he understands. I don't want to talk about running for my life. I don't have the energy.

Lifting my hands, Milo understands and helps me to my feet.

The sheriff takes off his hat and presses it against his chest. "Mickey. It's good to see you again."

"You too. I'm sorry for the circumstance." Milo wraps his arm around me, keeping me close, and I let him.

Jake keeps a respectful distance. He knows about everything that has happened to me. Telling the police about my situation— minus the murderous details— was the first thing Milo wanted to do when we arrived in this town.

"Don't apologize. This is what I'm here for. Now, Milo, I understand you're about to leave. Mickey, if you feel more comfortable, we can go down to the station, so you are around people."

"I've texted Demi. I told her what happened. I'm not going anywhere, Jake."

"Okay, okay, great, but regardless," he gives me a reassuring smile, "we should leave the decision up to Mickey. Her comfort is all that matters right now."

Even having the choice brings me relief. "I'm fine here at home. This won't take long anyway. I know what you want, and I don't have any information. A package was delivered. It has to be from Ty. They are the same chains that he leashed me with. There's no return address."

His jaw ticks with rage as he writes on his notepad. "We are going to look into this. I'm going to take the box for evidence, run it for any fingerprints, and find the delivery guy that came here. We will get to the bottom of this, Mickey. I promise."

"I know, Jake. You're a good cop. I appreciate you trying." I know he won't find anything. Ty was an animal and dumb in many ways, but abuse? He was— is— smart. There won't be any fingerprints.

The doorbell rings and Jake's hand flies to his gun. He's a quick draw, aiming the gun at the door.

He holds up a hand to us. "Stay here. Don't move," he says so quietly, that I can barely hear him. His fingers come to his mouth, telling us to be quiet.

My heart thumps while I hold my breath, waiting for relief or a gunshot.

"What's your name? Give me your employee badge. I want your boss's phone number," Jake orders, keeping the man at the door.

My head begins to swim, and my lungs begin to scream, begging me to inhale.

I can't. I can't breathe knowing Ty is alive. I can't live every day looking over my shoulder.

"The guys are here to install the security system. They are vetted. I'll stay here with you until they are done."

"Me too," Milo echoes. "Why don't you go lie down and try to get some rest?"

"I don't think I could sleep right now. I have too much going on in my head. Plus, so much is happening with the house. I can't nap today."

"Yes, you can. I'll direct everyone. No need to worry, Mick. Plus, Jake is here. He won't let anything happen."

"I'll stay until I get a call saying I need to leave."

"See?" Milo says with a smile, trying to ease my anxiety. "We have this. Go."

"Okay. Okay. I'll go, but you'll wake me if you need me?" I tug on my sleeves before crossing my arms.

"No, probably not. Go. Go." He shoves me down the hall.

"Okay, okay. Jeez. It's like you're trying to get rid of me." I stop and snag Milo's wrist. "If you catch me sleepwalking, please don't wake me. You know it can be dangerous. It's only happened once since being in the house but with the added stress of Ty—"

"—I know what to do. You're safe, Mick. You have nothing to worry about."

"Okay. Thank you." I give my brother a tight hug, turning my cheek out the door to see certain parts of my gargoyle.

Between Milo, Jake, and Rhett, I should be okay, right?

Right.