Chapter Nineteen - Diane

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DIANE

My nails dig into my arms. I can hear Thomas breathing behind me.

"I won't fuck you," I whisper.

The only thing visible is the light over the stove in Thomas Garrison's kitchen. His keys hit the counter with a clatter. He lets out a long, impatient sigh.

"Fine," he says.

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't for him to cave so easily. I turn, my arms wrapped around my body. I'm still in the dirty sundress I wore with Westin. I can still feel his hands on me.

As I'm standing here in the kitchen of a Garrison, I can feel another man's cum dripping down my thigh. I press my legs together. It feels like what Westin did to me at the swimming hole was years ago.

I can't let Thomas touch me. He might be benevolent enough not to force himself on me, but I don't know what he'll do if he finds out about Westin. David was right to warn me not to mention his name in a Garrison household.

He watches me, clearly unhappy, but not surprised .

"I want this to be in name only," I breathe. "Non-monogamous. I'll sleep in my room, and you feel free to sleep wherever you want."

"You're going to be my wife," he says flatly.

"Give me time," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Please, Thomas. I don't know you. I'm not ready for this. I didn't choose it."

He takes a step closer, then another, until he's standing over me. His hand comes up. I flinch violently, leaning away. He starts to brush back my hair, but then he sees my reaction. His fist drops.

"Jesus, who beat you?" he snaps.

My eyes start watering. Maybe, if I'm being honest, they're not watering; I'm just crying. I shake my head, unable to answer him. He lets out an impatient sigh and runs a hand over his face.

"Fine, I won't fuck you tonight," he says.

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. "You can sleep with whoever, just give me some time."

"And you?"

"Me, what?"

His eyes glint. "So you're going to sleep with…whoever too?"

I shrug, nodding, and that's the wrong thing to do. He was tempered a moment ago, but he's angry now. I take a step back, and his hand shoots out, gripping me by the neck. Fear explodes through my body, and my heart goes wild. He drags me in until I'm against his tall body.

"Fine, let's fuck whoever we like. You spread your legs for anyone, see if I care," he snaps. "Good luck with that. There isn't anyone to fuck for twenty miles of this godforsaken ranch."

He lets me go, shoving me the way David does. I spill back against the sink, paralyzed. He goes to where I left my linen purse and yanks it open, taking out my wallet.

My jaw drops. I can't say a word as he takes out my driver's license and my bank card. He hesitates, and then he takes my social security card, the cash too, and shoves them all in his pocket.

"I want you to know that when I'm gone in the evenings, I'm fucking someone else," he says, his voice glacial. "And until you're ready to fuck me, have fun fucking yourself, you whore. "

He turns on the heel of his boot. His footsteps are loud as he heads down the hall.

"You sleep in the spare room, off the kitchen," he yells. "I didn't want you anyway."

The front door slams, and I wince. The engine of his truck roars to life, and I see the headlights disappear down the drive.

I'm so relieved he didn't touch me, but my hands still shake as I turn on the light and find my way to the spare room. It's a simple bedroom with a twin bed, a window, a desk, and a dresser.

Dust is thick like snow on the floor. Dead flies litter the windowsill.

I lay my bag down and locate some cleaning supplies in the kitchen. Head spinning, still unable to process, I clean every inch of the room before unpacking my bags. After the sheets and quilt are washed, I make the bed. Then, I tuck Jensen's pistol under the bed, in my mostly empty purse.

I lay on my back, the light still on.

There has to be a way to keep Thomas out if he changes his mind. The door opens outward, and there's no hook and eye lock or deadbolt. I can drag a chair from the dining room, but he'll notice it's gone.

Instead, I find a long coil of rope in the laundry room and a hook under the kitchen sink. Working quickly, I attach one end to the doorknob, screw the hook in the ceiling, and run the rope through it. Laying on the bed, I loop the rope around my wrist and tighten it.

If anyone comes in, I'll wake. The gun is loaded and within reach.

There are some things Nana would have never asked of me. If Thomas forces his way into my room, I don't care if I go to prison for it.

I'll blow his head open.