45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

L ayla sat on the edge of Jackson's bed and ignored the woman hovering around her.

"I thought you were safe. I should have seen it..."

The mumblings of a crazy person. But who was she to talk? She spoke to wolves in her head.

Still, that was better to focus on than the fact that she'd almost been raped and killed. And that Jackson was blaming her for that.

Anger fought with despair and shock. The turmoil in her head threatened to consume her. Almost raped. Almost raped.

She could still feel their hands on her body as if it was still happening. Still feel their breath on her face. Still see the looks in their eyes.

"I'm sorry, Layla. I don't know what came over them," Diedre continued.

She didn't want to hear about it anymore, so she stood up and walked to the bathroom. She stripped and threw her clothes in the trash before entering Jackson's colossal shower. The spray was icy at first and then very hot, but she was too numb to feel it. All she wanted was to get rid of the feeling of their hands on her body. She lathered Jackson's body sponge and scrubbed her skin continuously, but she still didn't feel clean. She lathered it again and repeated the process. Her skin felt raw, but she did it again and again.

If Jackson hadn't shown up...

Her tears mixed with the water as she dropped the sponge. She would never feel clean again. She would always see those faces and feel those hands. When her shaky limbs couldn't hold her up anymore, she lowered to the shower tray and hugged her knees. She couldn't stop the sobs that escaped her lips.

It felt like hours later when she finally dragged herself out of the bathroom and found something to wear. And then she sat back on the edge of the bed, not caring that her hair was dripping all over the place. Diedre had left, thankfully, but her mind was still fractured. All this shit was too much to take after she had already been struggling mentally.

She heard the lock in the door and prepared herself to see Jackson. She hadn't thought much of him before, but for him to blame her for what had almost happened? That was a shitty thing to do. But he was a cult leader who had underage girls vying to get into his bed. She should have expected that.

Instead of Jackson, the very last man she wanted to see walked into the room. The last time she had seen Dylan was when he had walked in on her and Jackson; the time before that was when he had threatened and hurt her. And judging by the look on his face as he approached her, his resentment of her hadn't lessened.

Dylan scowled as he dumped what looked like a first aid kit next to her.

"This is all your fault," Dylan snarled as he reached for her.

She flinched back from his unwelcome touch.

"Sit still and let me put something on that wound before you make things worse," Dylan snapped. "Laken was a good man."

She had no idea what he was talking about, but she tensed as he reached for her again to poke at her forehead. She felt the pain and remembered how hard those men had held her down. An involuntary shiver went through her body.

"You could have screamed for help. You could have fought them. But you just lay there," Dylan continued.

His words hit her hard. She'd asked herself that same question. Why hadn't she fought? Why hadn't she just tried to scream? Why had she frozen like that?

"I've heard you with Jackson. I know women like you. You drop your panties for any man who looks at you," Dylan growled as he dabbed her forehead with something that stung. "You've been tempting them every time you screamed for Jackson as if you wanted them to think the sun shines from between your legs. You deserved it all."

Her breath hitched.

"You're either a slut, or you're too weak and pathetic to be with Jackson. I wish we had come a little later, so at least they would have got rid of you first."

She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to tune him out, but it was impossible. She felt too raw to take any more abuse. His words burnt through her, whirling in her mind along with the images of those men.

Dylan dressed her wound roughly, causing more pain before he reached for the first aid kit and snapped it shut.

"Stay in here, out of the way, until he's done with you. What's between your legs doesn't make you better than anyone else," Dylan said. "Once you give him what he wants, I will gladly get rid of you for him."

And then the hateful man turned and walked out of the room. The sound of the key turning in the lock made her flinch again.

It was only when she felt something wet drop onto her arm that she realised she was crying. She roughly wiped her tears and got up onto the bed.

What could she do now to get out of this situation? She was stuck in a place with people who wanted to kill her for no reason, and somehow she had turned into a damsel in distress. They were stronger, they were mean, they were faster... Costas was nothing compared to what she had experienced here. She should have taken her chances in town.

It took hours for her eyes to start drooping because of sleep. Hours that she had been left alone to deal with what had happened by herself because even Jackson didn't care about that. No one even bothered to bring her any food.

When she closed her eyes, she saw those men hovering above her, sneering at her as they clawed at her clothes. Her scream was still stuck in her throat. She still didn't fight. But this time, there was no one to save her. She felt their hands on her naked skin, and still, nothing but a whimper escaped her lips.

Weak.

Pathetic.

She'd asked for it.

She should have listened.

She should not have tempted them.

The words kept repeating in her head. Over and over. Dylan's face. Those three men. Jackson's icy glare, the anger he had shown her.

She knew it was a bad dream but couldn't wake herself up. She couldn't stop them.

It went on and on until it just stopped. Something warm enveloped her, providing security that she hadn't felt in a long time. The warmth pushed everything away until all that remained were positive feelings and emotions, and only then did her sleep become restful.

When she opened her eyes again, the early morning sun shone through the windows and glass walls. And the space next to her in the bed was empty but still warm.