Pretty Little Dreams (25 page)

25.

VENGEFUL RESCUE

Olivia

D
eacon picks me
up and carries me into my bedroom. It is obvious that his goal is to place me in bed to finish his act, but the thought of being with him in the nearly sacred place where I share my love with Luke is unbearable and makes me go crazy. I start wiggling like a possessed woman in his arms, screaming as much as I can with the tape over my mouth. Resigned and angry, he rolls me out of his arms and drops me on the floor. His apparent haste to have his way with me wins out over the need for a bed. He doesn’t try putting me there again, and makes it obvious that any place will do.

Suddenly, everything feels like it is happening in slow motion.
He rips my chemise the rest of the way down my body. The tear of the fabric sounds loud in my ears, resounding off the walls. My panties are long gone too. He rips them off when he realizes he can’t slide them the rest of the way down my legs with the duct tape around my ankles. I try to bend my good leg’s knee to get him in the balls, to no avail. The action only angers him and he pulls my hair and screams in my face for me to stop.

He takes his shirt off and I turn my head to the side while he undoes his buttons one by one.
When he presses his skin to mine, I have to swallow the vomit I feel rise in my throat over and over, my throat burns with the effort. With my mouth taped, I need to force it back down. I do not want to drown in my own vomit. Not at all the way I want to die. But then again, perhaps it would be better than enduring this.

The sound of my breath whistles loudly out of my nose and comes in scared pants.
I try to calm my mind and focus on something else. I beg my mind to disconnect from my body, finding another place to go, a happy place, but it’s difficult. He keeps whispering in my ear how much he wants me, and how he knows I want him too. He keeps running his lips all over my body. Once he goes below my waist, I am finally able to check out completely. I am looking to the side, towards the door and I keep hoping and praying I see someone standing there. “Please help me. Please help me,” a repeated mantra and prayer in my head.

He’s at his pants again and when I feel his hardness touch the side of my hip, I instinctively squeeze my legs together as hard as I can.
Tears run unabashed down my face and I’ve given up trying to beg and plead through the confines of the tape on my mouth. It doesn’t matter anyway, so I keep up the silent plea in my mind instead.

He tries to push my knees apart, “Come on baby,
this is going to feel so good.”

How crazed he is.
I have no idea how much time he’s been in the condo now – time is standing still and it feels like hours; I really have no idea. Isn’t he afraid of getting caught? Or is his need to power, to claim me, more important? Is he so cocky that the idea of capture doesn’t even faze him because he thinks he’s invincible? I don’t know.

He gives up trying to pull my knees apart and I know he doesn’t want to take the tape off from around my ankles, so he flips me over onto my stomach.
My hands are trapped under my body, and it pushes my ass up and towards him. He takes the opportunity to slap it. Hard. Then he rubs his hands all over it as if trying to rub the pain away.

He pulls my hips up and I try to check out again, once again staring at the doorway.
My heart bleeds for Luke. Not just because I would give anything for him to appear at the door, though I do not want him to see me or to be seen by him in this lunatic’s crazed act. More than anything, I need and want my knight to rescue me, but I worry that should he return, and I am once again gone, it will break him. I know him. He will never forgive himself for leaving today, and I don’t want that for him.

I wish for so many things.
I wish for the life with him I always dreamed of - the one with the amazing house, dog, rocking chairs, and of course, the children. I want a picture perfect, picket fence life with him. A future and a purpose. I know we would be so happy together, and live out all of our pretty little dreams. We would make them a reality. His and mine, we would make them one. We would make them ours.

My wishes become so vivid it’s like I see him standing in the doorway looking at me.
I try to smile at my vision of him, but when his gorgeous face becomes twisted in disbelief and pain, I realize he isn’t just my imagination. My dream Luke would never look so sad, so furious.

Oh God, it’s him!
Really him! For the first time since Deacon arrived, I feel hope bloom in my chest. I make a sound behind the tape. I feel relief, fear, embarrassment, and shame all at the same time. I hate that he is seeing me like this, and I don’t want Luke to get hurt trying to take matters into his own hands. But again, I know him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

I don’t think Deacon has a clue he’s here because he has not paused at all, completely focused on his task.
That is until an almost inhumane roar catches his attention. I watch him pause, experience a moment of inquiry, and then surprise as Luke quickly lifts him off of me. Their bodies collide with a loud slap and they go crashing into my dresser, knocking it aside, tipping it nearly over and causing items to crash to the floor. The blow they take doesn’t seem to faze either Deacon or Luke, as they go rolling across the floor.

As they roll out of my sight, next to my bed, with great exertion, I roll first onto my back and then on to my side. While the movement hurts like a bitch, I finally have Luke within my sight.

“YOUR ARE A SICK FUCK!
I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” Luke screams and Deacon is unable to even mutter a word. Luke is enraged. Deacon is about to feel the full wrath of a man possessed; possessed with hatred for the person who dared to abuse and hurt the love of his life. And he deserves everything he’s about to get.

Surprise works to Luke’s advantage.
He’s bleeding from his temple, but as they stop rolling, Luke manages to take control. He seizes Deacon by the throat as he positions himself to sit astride him. He stops mid move and forcefully punches Deacon in the crotch. If not for this tape over my mouth, I would be cheering Luke on. I realize that sometime in the process of grabbing Deacon, Luke has thrown the comforter toward me and that it partially covers my exposed body.

Deacon turns to the side and vomits from the pain of the punches.
This also brings me complete satisfaction. The vomiting doesn’t even faze Luke. He uses Deacon’s vomiting to his advantage, and takes the time to sit on top of Deacon’s chest and punches him in the face. Over and over and over, again. Deacon is bleeding from his nose, from his eyes, from his mouth. His whole face is covered in it. But Luke doesn’t stop, even when Deacon gets in a good hit of his own, it doesn’t matter. Luke is a machine. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction as Luke lands each blow.

I’m startled when I hear additional voices and I try to roll back over to see what is going on.
People holding guns enter the room. One in a policemen’s uniform and another in a suit immediately run to Luke and Deacon and try to pull them apart. Luke isn’t making it easy. His eyes are glassy looking and focused, and he keeps swinging, even when his target is moved out of range. The man in the suit is almost falling over in his attempt to get Luke to stop. At one point, Luke actually manages to break away and gives Deacon a hard kick in the side. I hear something crack when his foot connects and Deacon bellows in pain. Deacon is quickly placed on his stomach, regardless of the pain to his side, and the Officer gets his handcuffs out, “You have the right to remain silent…”

While all this is happening, another officer enters my bedroom, covers me completely with the comforter.
His eyes are kind and I appreciate his thoughtfulness and attempt to provide me a bit of modesty in this unfathomable moment. He sits on the floor beside me and immediately removes the tape from my mouth, which is quite painful. It feels like I lost some skin in the process and my lips burn. “So sorry,” he mutters and then starts working at freeing me from the tape around my wrists and ankles.

I hear the man in the suit talking to Luke, “Mr. Easton, calm down.
Get yourself under control or I will slap cuffs on you too.” I don’t think Luke even hears him. He’s still struggling against the man and his gaze hasn’t left Deacon. I barely hear them. I look down at the officer working at freeing me and see that in his haste to help me, he set his gun on the ground instead of holstering it. I can’t stop staring at it and thinking about everything I’ve experienced because of Deacon. I close my eyes and can feel his skin against mine, his mouth on my body, the blows to my face. Once free, before I even realize what I’m about to do, I grab the gun from the floor and stand.

I hold the gun out and hear a chorus of “Whoas,” from the officers around me.
But all I can feel at the moment is exposed. My ripped clothes gape around me, my hair is in disarray and hanging partly in my face, and I feel a twinge of humiliation and embarrassment. But, as I look at Deacon, and relive what he put me through, those feelings are nothing compared to the way the man before me has hurt me, and violated me. The Officer that untied me holds up his hands and backs away from me when he sees me with the gun. “It’s okay,” he says. But it’s not. It will never be okay.

I have one purpose, one thing on my mind.
I slowly raise the gun higher, pointing it straight at Deacon’s head. The whole room goes quiet and I can feel every eye on me. One time for fun, Pyper and I went to the firing range and learned how to shoot, so I know damn well how to remove the safety and hold a gun. I take the safety off, and the sound is loud and my intent, very clear. Deacon, who was looking at the ground, slowly raises his head until his eyes are locked onto mine.

Like a horror movie, memories of him touching me, talking to me, hurting me, yelling at me, squeezing me, terrifying me, enter my mind once again.
They come at me, one after another, until it’s all I can see. I can’t even see him or anyone else anymore, I just see the way he terrorized me for months. For years. The happy good times are long forgotten, buried by the horrors reality brings. Tears carrying pain and sorrow fall from my eyes and slide down my face. How the tears keep coming, I will never understand. Does one ever shed so many that they dry up? Do they ever stop? Will mine ever stop?

I blink repeatedly, trying to push those memories away, needing to focus on what I’m about to do.
I stare at the man who is the cause of them all. “Princess?”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!
I HATE when you call me that!” My hand is shaking so hard and hate flows from every pore on my body. “How can you look at me like that? With such shock…such surprise?” I shake my head in disbelief, “Do you really have no idea what you’ve done to me?”

“I just wanted you.
I just wanted us to be together.” He starts crying. Tears pour down his face, and his eyes are laced with fear.

“Oh, please.
Save it, you bastard. You don’t deserve to shed tears.”

“I’m crying for you.”

“Fuck you. I don’t want them.”

“I want you.
That’s all, Olivia. Don’t you understand? Everything I did was because I want to be with you.”

“WELL I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU!” I scream.
I start shaking harder, head to toe, and the gun shakes even more in my hand. All I can think about is how much better I would feel if he would die.

26.

RIGHTEOUS RAGE

Luke

R
age. Pure, unadulterated
rage is all I feel when I see Olivia tied up in her room with Deacon over her. Two seconds. Two seconds is all it takes for my heart to stop, my world to crumble and for my life to implode. Her nakedness bared, her eyes lost, my soul shattered. Two seconds.

Fear, anger, disbelief, and then revenge bleeds from my pores, screaming at me to make him pay.
An inhumane sound twists its way out of my throat before I even realize I’m doing it. I’m on Deacon in no time, my one mission to make him pay for hurting my girl.

With every brutal pound, every slap, every jab, every kick, I feel like I’m vindicating Olivia.
Problem is, it will never be enough. I could beat him until every orifice of his is leaking and gushing blood. I could make sure every inch of his body is black and blue with my stamp of hatred. I could pound him so far into this fucking floor that they would need a damn crowbar just to get him out of here, but it will never be enough.

How do you pay someone back for four weeks of terror?
How do you pay someone back for years of verbal, mental and physical abuse? I don’t speak at all while beating him. I’m completely focused on the task of making sure he never hurts Olivia again. What he was doing to her… I can’t even… I can’t even let my mind go there. I may have arrived just in time, but what if I hadn’t? How would she ever come back from that? Is that what he did to her before? He would have taken her again.

I could have lost her.

Again.

The thought makes my fists fly faster, harder.
Every grunt he makes in pain; every time I feel his flesh give against my fist gives me a deep feeling of satisfaction. I’m vaguely aware that I’m sitting on him and pummeling his face in, when suddenly strong arms are trying to pull me away.

I resist.
I need to make him pay. It isn’t enough. It will never be enough. I’m not done yet.

“Luke!
Luke, enough. That’s enough now.”

I flail my arms and kick like hell, trying to get out of Detective Goldridge’s grasp.
Who the fuck does he think he is, taking me away from Deacon? Doesn’t he understand? He’s a man. How would he feel if he found a sick fuck trying to rape his girl? He’d be doing the same thing. I know that for damn sure.

“Luke.
Enough. Stop. She needs you.”

Those words are like ice water over my whole body, bringing me clarity.
I immediately look over to my right and see her. And oh hell, my heart bleeds, every part of me screams in agony at the sight of her.

Olivia stands to the right of me, practically naked, her ripped clothing hanging off of her body.
But it isn’t her nakedness that captures my attention for once, it’s the gun she’s holding and pointing directly at Deacon. Her hands are shaking and the skin around her wrists is red and raw. Her gorgeous face is battered and already bruising. One of her eyes is almost completely swollen shut, and her mouth and the skin around it looks red and swollen. Some of the skin is even bleeding a little from where the tape was removed. Her nose is running blood and it’s dripping down her mouth, chin, and to the floor. Deacon must have hit her hard a few times and the thought almost makes me charge after him again. Instead, I take a deep breath and die a little more inside at the look of pure determination in her eyes.

I hesitate for a moment.
I admit, part of me wants to cheer her on. Tell her to do it, hell I would even put my finger over hers and help her pull the trigger, but the fact is, this isn’t her. And he deserves far more than the easy way out.

“Livvie?”

She doesn’t move, but I know she heard me by the little jerk her body makes at the sound of my voice. I want more than anything to gather her into my arms. It takes physical, as well as mental effort to stand still and do this the right way.

“Livvie?”
I repeat, but this time, I’m standing right next to her, facing her. I don’t want to get in front of the gun, just in case her trembling gets worse and it accidentally goes off.

She turns her head towards me and blinks as if she’s trying to bring me into focus.
Her head tilts to the side, making her look as if she’s confused, “Luke?”

I give her a small smile.
I can feel blood dripping down the side of my face and under my nose. I start to bring my hands up to wipe my face, but realize my hands are covered in blood. My knuckles are cracked and bleeding. I can’t help but give a soft grunt in satisfaction, knowing that the majority of the blood is not mine. “Angel, you need to put the gun down.”

Tears fall from her eyes, each one taking my heart with them.
She’s cried so much since her kidnapping - I don’t want her to ever cry again. I vow right then to spend the rest of my life making sure my girl laughs more than cries for the rest of our days. “I can’t,” she whispers, “He tried to hurt me,” I grit my teeth. “He did hurt me.”

“I know.
I know, angel, and I’m so sorry.” I take another step toward her.

“Don’t.” I stop moving, but then quickly realize that’s not what she means, “Don’t you
dare apologize. Not for him.”

“I’m not.
I’m apologizing for me. I left you alone. Again.” The thought of what could have happened if I had not arrived in time, makes me feel physically ill.

“No,” she whispers, “no, this is not your fault.
Don’t you dare take ownership of this. It belongs to him,” her vehemence makes her shake the gun in the direction of Deacon. “This is
all
his fault, and I’m going to kill him. I’m going to make him go away, so we never have to worry about him again.”

“Livvie, no.
This is not you. This is your anger, fear, pain, and hurt talking. Look, I understand,” I try to reason, “Believe me. No one wants him dead more than me. He hurt the one woman on earth that I love more than anything, and I want to see him dead as much as you do. This, however, is not the way. This is not you.”

“Luke, I can’t.
I can’t let him get away with this.”

“Ma’am if you don’t put down the gun, we will have no choice, but to make you.”
Detective Asshole decides to take this moment to declare. If I wouldn’t get arrested, I would punch him in the face. That would likely be pushing my luck though.

I see Olivia briefly look over at him, then back at me.
I turn my head towards Detective Dick and whisper, “Just wait,” and then look back at Livvie. “You aren’t letting him get away with anything by not shooting him. But Livvie, if you do this… if you pull that trigger…then he wins.”

“I don’t understand.
I would win. He would PAY for what he’s done.” The gun shakes in her hands when she speaks, emphasizing her words. In response, Officer Knight and Detective Douche, pull guns from their holsters, and point them at her.

“Whoa!
Put your fucking guns away! Just give me a minute to talk to her!”

“We can’t take a chance th
at she won’t pull the trigger.”

“She won’t shoot me, she doesn’t have the guts,” chimes in Deacon right then and it takes everything I have not to take the gun from her
and shoot the bastard myself.

Olivia however, only gets emboldened by his words, “Oh, I won’t?”
I swear I see her finger twitch on the trigger making my heart stop for at least the tenth time.

“Livvie!
No! I will NOT let you do this! This is not you!”

She looks at me and the look in her eyes makes me hold my breath.
It’s like after all this time, she’s finally letting me get a real look inside her mind. Inside her heart. And I’m seeing everything she’s been trying so desperately to keep hidden. She looks utterly and completely lost.

“Not me?
Luke, I haven’t been me for weeks. I’ve been trying like hell to keep it all in. To cover everything up with forced laughter and normalcy. I thought that moving forward and being normal would make things better. But it hasn’t. I don’t know if it ever will.”

“That’s not true, Livvie.”

“Isn’t it? When is the last time that I’ve been shopping or read a fashion magazine and lost myself in the world I love? I hardly blog anymore - just enough to keep it going. I haven’t had a writing job in weeks, I’ve hardly left the house. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“I do.
I know exactly who you are. You’re
my
girl.” I take a step toward her, “I’ve known you since we were sixteen. Then, and now, you are the same girl inside that you’ve always been. Funny, beautiful, passionate, and smart.” I take a small step and touch the side of her face. “You have a crazy obsession with shoes and handbags. You know every color, trend and style that’s been popular over the last several years. You make me laugh, like no one else can.” I see a small smile on her lips and I keep going. “You also turn me on like no one else can.” She flushes a little at my words, “Your cheeks flush when you’re embarrassed or excited.” I smirk at her while brushing my thumb across her cheek, “You have a best friend that adores you. You are a bit clumsy,” I get a small laugh then, “and you are a horrible cook.” I get a full laugh this time. “The sound of your laugh is the best sound I’ve ever heard, and you fit perfectly in my arms.” I hold them open now.

“You are the other half of me.
I thought I lost you once, Livvie, I won’t lose you again. Not for him. He’s not worth it.” The gun she’s holding lowers an inch, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Detective Idiot’s shoulders relax just a bit.

“I get that you are confused and you’ve been through hell, but you see, angel… I know exactly who you are.
Whenever you aren’t sure… whenever you feel lost. Lean on me. I’ll hold you, kiss you and love you, and whisper reminders whenever you need them, reminding you exactly who the girl is that stole my heart all those years ago.”

Silent tears pour down her cheeks again and as she finally lowers the gun, I step the rest of the way towards her and finally take her in m
y arms, kissing her tears away.

“She’s my wife!
Don’t you touch her!” Deacon screams, but we ignore him. Lost in one another’s arms, he’s on his way to becoming just a very bad memory.

Officer Knight steps behind Livvie, “Technically, I’m supposed to arrest you for taking my gun and threatening to shoot someone,” he holds his hand out for his gun and Olivia gives it to him.
“But I didn’t see anything… did you, Officer Phish?”

I turn to Phish, to see him look at the Detective and Officer Knight.
A small smile covers his mouth, “See what?”

“She threatened my life!
You’re just going to let her get away with it? I want an attorney! I want her arrested now!”

“Those punches must have screwed you up because you are out of your mind, that never happened and we were here the whole time,” Detective Awesome says.

I breathe a sigh of relief and pull Olivia closer to me. “I love you,” I whisper in her ear.

“I love you too,” she breathes.

“What the hell?!”

We both pull apart to look towards the door at the fiery redhead that’s standing there, looking around in pure confusion.
The minute her eyes take in Deacon in cuffs and Olivia’s state, she stifles a sob and runs to Olivia. “Oh my God, are you okay? What happened?”

“Pyper,” I put my hand on her shoulder, “I promise to fill you in later, but for now, ca
n you get a robe for Olivia?”

She looks from me to Olivia and her face flushes a little as if she just noticed Olivia’s basically undressed.
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry!”

As she starts walking to the bathroom, Officer Phish starts to take Deacon from the room.
Pyper stops right in front of him, and once again everyone in the room stills as Pyper looks Deacon straight in the face.

“Pyper?” Olivia says, he
r voice shaking in nervousness.

Pyper looks at Olivia, then at Deacon.
Before I can even comprehend it, she spits a giant wad of saliva in his face and kicks him in the balls. “That’s for tying me up and kidnapping Olivia, you stupid, fucking piece of shit!”

It takes me a minute before I realize my mouth has hit the floor.
I look at Olivia and see she is nervously looking at the officers, afraid of the repercussions for Pyper’s actions.

Officer Knight smiles, “Man, something is seriously messed up with my eyes,” he says rubbing them
. “How about you, Detective?”

“Yeah, things are just really
out of focus for some reason.”

“I didn’t see shit.” Officer Phish says, while pulling on Deacon’s arm to try and get him standing
to pull him out of the room.

“Well, I certainly feel better,” the spitfire throws us a smile over her shoulder before she he
ads to get a robe for Olivia.

I look at Olivia and see her watching Pyper with a smile on her face.
She looks back at me and her face falls. “I need to talk to you.”

Before I can respond, we’re interrupted by Pyper returning, and Officer Goldridge, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have to take yo
ur official statement, Olivia.”