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I welcome the burn of the vomit. It feels better than having to say the words out loud. It feels better than thinking about the day I turned eighteen, or the other times after that. It feels like a purge, and one I’m desperate for.

As I heave over the toilet, I feel a warm hand at my back, circling, giving me the type of comfort I haven’t received in so long. It feels so nice. I almost want to ask Ringo to stop, because I know that eventually, I’ll be alone again, with no one to look after me, and I don’t want to remember how good it feels to have someone care.

When the purging subsides, Ringo urges me back and flushes away the delicious food I’d eaten for dinner, before helping me stand and wetting a washer to offer me while he gets a glass of water.

Shit .

I’m exhausted.

Telling him all of that stuff about my family and Daniel has left me drained, but also kind of relieved.

It feels good to tell someone, even if it is a summarised version of the last eighteen months, it’s still a relief.

Maybe Ringo was right. Maybe talking does help.

Even so, I know he’ll want to know more about what I was trying to tell him before I got sick. I don’t know if I have it in me to say the words out loud.

I tried once.

After my birthday, I tried to tell my mum, but she told me to stop being dramatic and lying. I came to believe she already knew, and when she dropped me off, I think she knew exactly what Daniel had in store for me.

We move back to the main room, and even though Ringo sits on the end of the bed, I can’t seem to sit still. I start pacing, back and forth, back and forth, trying to figure out the best way to just get the words out and be done with it.

“Angel,” he starts, but I shake my head.

“I don’t know if I can say it. I mean, you know, right?” I ask, glancing up as I continue to pace back and forth. “You already know what happened. I don’t really have to say it, do I?”

Sympathy washes over his features, and I kinda hate seeing it. “How many friends did he have there?”

Oh yeah. He knows.

My stomach roils again, but my anger keeps it at bay. My anger is making me feel alive right now, pumping my life source through my veins, setting my adrenaline alight, preparing me for war.

“Including Daniel?” I ask, but it’s really just an acknowledgement. “There were five the first time. Six the other two times.”

“Fuck!” The animalistic boom flies from Ringo, scaring the life out of me, a squeak leaping past my lips as I jump.

Now he’s pacing, raking his hand through his hair and looking like he’s going to pull the strands right out.

My breathing is fast. Shallow. Almost painful. My heart thrashing, yet almost feeling like it’s about to stop.

“Five? Six?” he snaps, in question.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” I start rambling as I back away, tears blurring my vision, my head shaking at the sheer anger in his voice.

No one wants to know this about the girl they are interested in. No guy wants to know you were used as the whore at the end of a train line.

I need to run. Where can I run? What will I do if I leave here?

“Angel. I’m sorry.” His tone is less savage this time, and I see his blurry silhouette coming towards me, but I back up against the door, reaching back to find the lock. “Hey, what are you doing?”

I shake my head, not able to speak as I fumble blindly, trying to get the damn thing open as he looms over me.

“Angel, I can’t let you leave,” he rasps, his hand slapping against the door to stop me from opening it.

“But you said I’m not a prisoner.” I manage to mutter, tears searing my cheeks as I keep trying to blindly get the damn latch unlocked.

“You aren’t, Angel. But you’re in no state to go anywhere, and we are locked down. Let’s not forget that I want to keep you safe.”

“B-but you’re angry at me. I told you—”

“I’m not angry at you, Angel. I’m angry at those fucking cunts that…” he chokes on his words before he finishes his sentence, “I’m angry at your rapists.”

Two large, yet gentle palms come up to cup either side of my face, his thumbs swiping at my falling tears as his face unblurs in my vision.

“You did nothing wrong. You hear me? You are the victim. Everyone else has done wrong by you, and mark my fucking words, Angel, they will pay. They will pay severely for what they did. That’s a fucking promise.”

If I know anything is true in this world, it’s the conviction in his tone. He’ll follow through on his promise.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I whisper, and he nods, pressing his forehead to mine.

“You don’t have to. I’m sorry I made you.”

“You didn’t make me. You encouraged me, and you were right. I feel a bit lighter.”

“Jesus, any lighter and you’ll blow away on the breeze.” He jokes, the long facial hair on his upper lip quirking up with his smile.

“I’m sorry you got lumped with me and my problems,” I admit, feeling the niggle of being a waste of space creep in again.

“Don’t talk like that. I’m glad Lexi called me. I just wish she’d done it earlier. Like a year fucking earlier.”

“In her defence, she had no idea what was really happening. She still doesn’t know. I’ve never told anyone else what I told you, and honestly, I never want to say the words again.”

“Then you won’t have to.” He declares, easing back to give me more space. “But there’s one thing I need from you. Not now, but before the lockdown lifts.”

Curious, my brows shoot high. “And what’s that?”

“I need the names of the six guys. Not spoken, but written down, and if you have their addresses, then I’ll take that too.”

“Are you really going to…”

“Fuck yes I am. And I get it if you don’t want me to. You’re a good person, Angel. I don’t expect you to agree with my methods, but the fact of the matter is, they don’t get the privilege of going to prison and having a trial. They don’t get to breathe and live full lives. In fact, the remainder of their lives will be so fucking bad, they will beg for death.”

A shiver ripples up my spine, and prickles of electricity tingle over my skin from head to toe. His eyes are fierce and are nothing but determined and I feel so alive at his words that I almost wonder if perhaps I should check myself? Remind myself to pull my head in and manifest the good parts of me that cried when my friends flooded an ant nest when we were little, killing the innocent insects just going about their day.

I decide, after what I’ve endured, that I’m allowed to feel good about the thought of revenge.

“I’ll have the list for you by the morning,” I tell him, and he nods, satisfied, before he slips his hand into mine and leads me away from the door and over to the bed.

I have no idea what time it is, nor do I care, and I happily slip under the thin blanket we’ve been using despite the sultry nights.

I can’t seem to get warm, my feet and hands feeling the coldest, so when Ringo eases under the blanket too, and reaches for me, dragging me closer so I can tuck myself into his side, I welcome the warmth. It’s like his touch, the press of his body against mine slowly thaws me out, and before I know it, I drift off to a dreamless sleep.

When I wake next, it’s to the chirp of birds, making the early morning hour almost as loud as the partying going on last night.

Shit.

Last night.

What was I thinking going out there while they were all…

This place, well… it’s different. From my brief time here, I’ve observed a bunch of scary men and a handful of scantily dressed women party like there’s no tomorrow and engage in sex acts fit for an X-rated website.

I know that there’s not a whole lot to do during lockdown, but I get the feeling the way they kill time here is normal, even if there’s no lockdown.

Seeing all that sex has to be the reason why I’m so horny.

Oh man, under different circumstances, if I told Lexi about all of this, she’d be in fits of laughter.

That thought tugs at the corner of my lips, and I pry my lids open to make sure Ringo is still sleeping and not watching me be weird.

Nope.

He’s still sound asleep.

Like I seem to do a lot, I study him while he sleeps. I enjoy seeing this side of the big bad biker who busted into my house and threatened my parents. His expression is so soft while he sleeps. It’s like all the hardness he carries throughout the day falls away, and in its place is this gentle man, or perhaps gentle giant better suits him .

I can’t believe I watched him… wank.

My cheeks flush at the thought, and the ache intensifies between my legs.

Dammit. Why am I like this?

It’s confusing as hell, especially given what I admitted to Ringo last night.

The ache between my legs vanishes, replaced with an ache in my chest, and the threat of tears.

I’ll never be the same.

For weeks now, I’ve daydreamed about hurting them. The six guys that took advantage of my drugged state. Sometimes the thoughts scare me, because never in my life have I ever imagined hurting anyone the way I want to hurt them.

I want to make them quiver in fear and beg for mercy. I want them to feel what it was like to endure the things they did to me, and while their gender prevents them from truly knowing, the fact that there’s still a way to do… that to them, has fuelled my appetite for revenge.

But, let’s be honest. I’m me. I could never…

I slowly sit up on the bed and stare down at Ringo.

He could. I know it in my bones that if I asked him to do that, he’d make sure they know what it’s like to have their body used, their limbs stretched every which way, to have their hair pulled so hard, that clumps get torn from their scalp. He’d make sure they couldn’t breathe and know what it feels like to choke as someone shoves something so forcefully down your throat that you can’t help but vomit. He’d make sure their skin is left with bruises in the shapes of gripping fingers, and that their most intimate places are abused in such a way that sharp pain and bleeding will linger for weeks .

It may be wrong of me to want Ringo to do that, but as I ease from the bed, careful not to wake him, I don’t even hesitate when I pick up the pen and notepad off his bedside table, and write down the names of the monsters that took everything from me.

Daniel Stone – 11 Mackery Lane, Fox Pines.

Craig McRoe – 261 Commercial Road, Fox Pines.

Michael Berry – 22 Landrey Place, Fox Pines.

Tim Beck – address unknown.

Donny Allen – address unknown.

Darnel Rivers – address unknown.

I shed a single tear as I place the notepad and pen back on Ringo’s bedside table, but it’s not for them. No. They will never get my pity.

The tear is for me. The old me. The person I was before all of this happened.

She was nice. Sweet. Smart. But ultimately, na?ve.

I can’t say I’m none of those things anymore, but what I am now, that I wasn’t back then, is damaged. Wounded. Ruined. So broken that I know this simmering hate I feel brewing will never leave me. It will always be a part of who I am now.

And I don’t even know who that is.

After I have a quick wash, I rummage through Ringo’s wardrobe and find another hoodie, swapping it out before I gather up my dirty clothes, and his, and slip from the room to do our laundry.

It must be pretty early. There’s not a sign of anyone awake .

There are a few men passed out in various locations around the courtyard. One of which is sleeping soundly in the small garden bed outside the laundry room.

I smile.

He kind of looks comfy. It’s like he fell there and just decided it was as good a place as any to sleep.

These people… well, they are so far off even being remotely like the people in Fox Pines or at the church that I find it refreshing.

They are rough. Inappropriate. And probably the happiest bunch of blokes I’ve ever met.

In the laundry room, it doesn’t take me long to figure things out. After all, this is what my mum has been training me for. Or perhaps grooming me is a better term for what she’s been doing.

Now that I’ve been away from her for a few days, I feel like a blanket of manipulation has lifted and I can see everything clearer. I don’t know why my mum is the way she is, or why my dad just lets her control everything, but what I do know is that they are both monsters for standing back and allowing their daughter to be treated the way I have.

Even though I don’t particularly like my sister, Maggie, I worry about what will become of her given how brainwashed she is.

And Tahli… Well, I need to find a way to get her away from them as soon as possible.

Just as I turn from the large washing machine now doing its job and washing mine and Ringo’s clothes, a startled gasp flies from my lips as I come face to face with a glaring Wendy.

“You won’t last. You know that, right?”

My brows hitch at her words. I don’t even know what to say to that, but before I can even form a word, she continues.

“He’ ll get bored with you. You’re not exactly his,” her disdained glare looks me up and down, “flavour.”

“Whatever.” I manage to mutter, taking a step forward in the hopes she backs up and lets me out the door.

She doesn’t.

“Ringo doesn’t do sweet. Whatever fascination he has with you will likely vanish before the week is through.” She curls her lip in disgust. “You’re simply too vanilla for a man like him.”

“Can you please move?” I snap, which just makes her scoff.

“Unless you’re willing to let him do the things he truly desires to your little fragile body.” She shrugs, lifting her hand to study her nails before glaring back at me. “He’s such a man, you know. He can’t help it if he likes it rough.” Her claw-like fingers wrap around her neck and she pretends to choke herself. “He likes to choke his women until they stop breathing.”

My heart starts thrashing in my chest, as her actions and words evoke a memory that I never want to remember before her lips spread wide in a sinister smile.

“He likes to fuck his women after they pass out. He likes being in full control of their body, able to do to it whatever he wants without them…” she leans forward, and I now regret stepping closer as her cigarette scented breath heats my face, “saying no.”

“You don’t scare me,” I hiss, trying to find my lady balls, but unfortunately, my voice still resembles a mouse.

Wendy throws her head back laughing. “Oh, dear sweet Charity. I’m not trying to scare you. I’m simply giving you a heads up for what’s in store for you if you want to stick around.” She shrugs like she doesn’t care, but obviously she does. “Besides, it’s no skin off my nose. He still comes to me and begs to sink his big cock deep into my cunt.”

“You’re vile!” I snap.

“And you’re delusional if you think you can make him happy!” She snaps back, shoving my chest and making me stumble back into the washer. “You stupid, na?ve little girl. You know nothing about our world. Don’t come crying to me when you marry him, thinking you’ve nailed him down, only to find out that I’m his old lady. So while you might end up playing house with him, just remember when he comes to the club, he’ll be balls deep in my arse.”

“Piss off, Wendy.”

The additional female voice snaps my attention over Wendy’s shoulder to see Jols standing there, glaring at the back of Wendy’s head.

Spinning on her heel, Wendy faces Jols but says nothing, the two of them seeming to have some sort of telepathic argument before Wendy huffs and shoves past Jols, storming off.

“Are you alright?” Jols asks, and I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, slowly nodding.

“I-I think so.”

“Just ignore Wendy. The dumb bitch has been pawing at Ringo for years, and not once has he taken her up on her offers. She’s just jealous that you got what she could never get.”

I shake my head. “But I don’t have… that. Me and Ringo… we’re fake. It’s not real,” I whisper, my heart hurting at the truth of my words.

Yeah, we shared something last night, but Wendy is right. I’m not Ringo’s type. I could never let him choke me.

“If you say so.” Jols grins knowingly, and my brows hitch, but she doesn’t notice because she’s stepping out of the room and gesturing for me to follow.

When I step outside, I watch as Jols kicks the booted foot of the man slumbering in the garden bed.

“Hey Barts. Wake up.” She kicks his foot again, and as I approach, I hear him groan in protest.

“Stop Natasha. I got up for the baby last time.”

I frown at his words while Jols sighs, her hands on her hips as she shoots me a sympathetic look. Then she kicks the guy’s foot again.

“Barts. It’s Jols. You’re at the compound. Not with Natasha.”

This time, his eyes snap open, and he peers up at Jols with the saddest lost puppy look I’ve ever seen.

“Shit. Sorry. I must have been dreaming,” he mutters, pushing himself up to reveal the crushed flowers underneath.

Whoops.

“You know, if you want her back, you gotta quit Jimmy and Molly.”

He nods, running his hand over the blond mess on his head. “Yeah, I know. I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” Jols snaps, leaning down to get in his face. “If you were going to, you’d already be sober and tucked up next to her in her bed.” She straightens. “But instead, you’re…” She doesn’t end her sentence, but rather gestures to his state, and his shoulders slump.

Damn. I kind of feel sorry for him.

“Come on.” Jols nods her head at me, and I follow, avoiding Barts’ lost puppy eyes. “You want to talk about what happened last night? ”

“What?” I ask confused as I hurry to Jols’ side. “What happened last night?”

Jols stops abruptly, so I skid to a stop and turn back to look at her.

All I see is sympathy.

“Ringo messaged me last night. Told me a very brief rundown of what you told him about… well, what happened to you.”

He what?

No.

I don’t want people to know.

Suddenly, my breathing quickens as humiliation flushes over my skin in raging heat, and I ball my fists, ready to punch something.

Why would he tell her? How could he do that?

I trusted him.

More than ever, I know I can’t stay here. My need to run from this place is so overpowering that it’s like an impulsion I can’t control, and I stiffen as my body prepares to do just that.