Page 2 of Grave Sins (Graveyard of Hearts Collection #2)

Archer

One Year Ago

Fire slashes across my back, and a scream racks from my throat.

“Scream, Princess!” Jeff yells back at me, snapping the whip across my body again.

The popper at the end has been replaced with a metal one.

There is still a cord, but instead of it just ending in a braid, he added a small metal cone that comes to a sharp point.

Each time he hits me with that goddamn whip, it slices me open.

Another strike, but this one wraps around my ribcage and makes a small cut on my chest. Angry tears finally break free and roll down my cheeks.

This is what he wanted. He wanted me to cry.

He’s been trying for a while now to make me cry like I did back when I was on drugs, but it’s harder now.

My demons keep me in a numbed state, but they’ve abandoned me now.

I deserve this.

This is the price I must pay.

For Dad.

For Kimberly.

For Kendra.

God, I can still hear her screams. I can’t get them out of my head.

It’s always playing on a loop somewhere in my mind—her desperate, broken sobs as she begged me to stop hitting her.

Why didn’t I stop? Fuck, why did I even do it?

It felt… logical at the time. Looking back, it’s like watching someone else destroy the innocence of a girl who just wanted to feel wanted.

Fuck, and if I didn’t relate to that. She was so damn sweet, too.

I saw myself in her, and I wanted her to hurt as badly as I did.

If I were a monster after suffering as much as I did, then she must have been deserving, right?

“Aww, there it is,” Jeff mocks, spinning me around to face him before stepping back.

He has me stripped naked and chained with my arms above my head. He has it pulled tight enough that I am up on my tiptoes, hardly able to touch the floor.

The whip smacks across my chest and slices through my skin. Hot, angry tears burn my eyes. “Fucking pussy,” he laughs and hits me again. “Cry for me, bitch. Look at you. So fucking pathetic.”

When I am nearly sobbing, choking on my tears, he suddenly releases the chain, and my body crumples to the basement floor.

I already know what he is going to do, but I still force myself up onto my hands and knees to crawl to the cot.

I get to the edge, but he shoves me forward, laying me across the makeshift bed.

He hooks the chain to the wall, so I am up on my knees but bent over.

It has my chest up off the cot just enough to torture me.

He pops open the bottle of lube and dumps a liberal amount into his hand before reaching around my body to grab my dick.

Even though I am soft, he squeezes and strokes me until my body, unwilling, gives in.

He laughs when I start to get hard, and I want to die.

“Disgusting,” Jeff scoffs. “Fucking faggot, getting hard for your uncle.”

“I hate you,” I growl through gritted teeth.

“Must not hate me too much, Princess. You are so damn hard for me,” he sneers.

“I hate you,” I growl again. Goddamn it, I hate this.

I fucking hate him so much, but I can’t fight back.

I can’t leave. I mean, I could, I guess, but it would get Kendra hurt.

Jeff has said many times that if I want out, all I have to do is agree to help him get Kendra here.

I can’t let him hurt her. She’s been through too much, and Dad just died.

I can’t imagine how she is coping. I won’t do it.

I will stay here as long as I need to so I can ensure that she is safe. It’s the only way.

“You want my cock, don’t you, boy? You always did take me so well, huh?

” Jeff groans as he jerks me off. I hate his touch.

I hate his voice. His smell. His everything.

I fucking hate him. I choke out a groan, and his laugh echoes around the room.

“Alright, Princess. Be a good boy and let me fuck this tight ass.”

Jeff finally lets go of my dick but grabs hold of my hips and slowly pushes his dick into my ass.

I try not to tense up or even move. He feeds off my fighting and anything he can see as me enjoying this.

He’s done this shit. He forces me to get hard and then fucks me until I end up coming so many times that I am weak.

No matter how hard I try not to come, I do.

He knows I can’t help it, but he mocks me anyway.

He thrives off of degrading me and calling me a faggot while forcing me to come seems to be his favorite thing to do.

I can’t fucking wait to kill him. I don’t care what I have to do; he will fucking die.

For me and Kimberly. God, poor Kimberly…

I miss her so damn much. I still have the silly voicemails she’d leave me saved.

If I could go back, I would have tried harder to save her.

I have gone over that day so many times, and I keep thinking there was some way I could have saved her, but I was just so goddamn high.

I don’t know what or how many pills Jeff shoved down my throat, but it fucked me up.

I couldn’t move, let alone save her. All I could do was watch him hurt my sister.

She didn’t deserve that, and neither did I.

Neither of us ever did anything to deserve what he did.

But then I turned into the very thing that killed my sister—a monster.

Jeff fucks me just fast enough that he can still reach around my body and jerk me off. I am holding my breath, desperately trying not to make a sound. “I bet Kendra would sound so pretty with my cock buried in her fat ass,” Jeff grunts.

And there it is. Either play the part, or he will go after Kendra. He always does this, knowing I won’t risk her. When he tightens his grip on my dick, I groan. “That’s it. Good boy. I knew you could do it.”

“Fuck you,” I grunt. He chuckles and pushes deep before leaning forward to release the restraints on my wrists.

He then pulls me up and keeps himself buried deep as he jerks me off faster.

He rocks his hips to slowly slide in and out of my ass, forcing an orgasm to surface.

When my body has had enough and I can’t hold it back any longer, tears flood my face as I unwillingly start to come.

“You love how I fuck you, don’t you, faggot?” he grunts in my ear. “That’s it, come for your uncle… Disgusting piece of shit…”

He continues to degrade me in any way he can as he continues to jerk me off. He doesn’t stop until he’s forced another orgasm out of me, calling me names as he does it.

I am hoping like hell he will finish like this, but he doesn’t. Jeff abruptly stands and grabs my head. “Open your mouth,” he grunts. “Now, Archer! Or I swear to God, I’ll force her onto your cock while I fuck her ass.”

Fuck, and he would too.

I unwillingly open my mouth, and he shoves his dick to the back of my throat. I violently gag and try to push back, but he has too much leverage. Never mind the fact that he was just in my ass, I am on the verge of vomiting, and he won’t stop.

“Fuuuck,” he moans as he assaults my mouth.

I deserve this.

Kendra didn’t.

I hurt her.

This is God’s way of punishing me.

I tell myself over and over that this is my punishment for raping Kendra.

I treated her like shit when Dad died. I wanted to make amends, but he died so suddenly.

He had agreed to sit down with me when I finally got him to answer his phone, but he said he wanted Kendra to sign the adoption papers first. He loved her so much.

I think I was bitter for so long because I thought he was replacing Kimberly, but it was more than that.

He just wanted to give her a better life, and he did.

Vomit rises in my throat, forcing its way out of my nose and around his dick that is still rabbit-fucking my mouth.

I can’t make it stop. When he forces his come down my throat, he pulls out of my mouth and steps back in time for me to puke again.

I fall to my hands, coughing and gasping for air between retches.

“Clean up the fucking mess, nasty ass,” Jeff laughs as he walks up the basement stairs.

Present day

I push the bar up, grunting as it rises.

One more.

Push, push, push.

Fuck. Finally, I rack my bar and rub my hands down my face.

I come here every night and work out, trying to focus on the things I can change.

I spent so long neglecting my body; I owe it to myself to do better.

Eventually, I get up and put my weights away before wiping everything down.

Tonight I stayed here longer than I usually do, so I grab my bag from the locker room and step out of the gym.

Usually, I’d shower here, but they’re about to close up for the night.

I don’t want to be that person who stays past closing time.

Plus, I want to go see the twins. Kendra had a girl and a boy six months ago.

I wish Dad were here to see what a wonderful mother she is.

He’d be so proud of her. She is killing it running the company with Marcus and Bellamy while they raise those babies.

Maya and Mateo are the chunkiest babies I have ever seen, though, so it's comical watching her try to hold both of them at once, considering they are damn near half her size.

Over the last year, Kendra and I have spent a lot of time together.

It took me a while to accept that she forgave me, but she didn’t really give me a choice but to accept it.

If I tried to pull away, she’d show up at my house and force me to go get breakfast with her.

Who am I to deny a pregnant woman food anyhow?

Marcus and Bellamy talked to me separately and basically said they are trusting her judgment, but if I hurt her, they’d beat me to death. Honestly, I think it would be Jesse and Julie who would skin me alive. Nothing like a group murder, I guess. I should know.

Kendra talked me into seeing a therapist. I opened up about everything from the very beginning.

I promised Kendra I would actually try, but I can’t do that if I don’t open up.

I explained that I wanted to be a better person.

I didn’t want to be a monster anymore, but the memories haunt me.

My dreams are filled with memories of being raped by Jeff while Kendra’s screams never stop.

She suggested that I join her group therapy session, which is a group of women who have survived sexual assault.

I don’t know if this is her way of torturing me, but it’s working.

Hearing these women talk about the horrific things that happened to them…

It reminds me that I am that person. I did that to someone, and I can never take that back.

God, I wish I could. I wish more than anything I could go back and never get hooked on drugs.

I should have gone to Dad right away when he started making me jerk him off, but I was so afraid of disappointing him.

I just wanted people to be happy. I made mistake after mistake, which led to my drugged-out logic convincing me that I was a monster and monsters hurt people.

It makes no goddamn sense, but it happened.

I think Ada regretted inviting me because when it came around to me, I introduced myself by saying that I was a rapist. I wasn’t going to hide it.

I did that. I hurt someone. If I was going to be there, they had the right to know.

They all just stared at me, so Ada asked if she could explain what I was skipping.

I said yes, so she told them that I was a survivor of childhood sexual assault, drug and alcohol addiction, and, most recently, a survivor of kidnapping, imprisonment, and repeated rapes.

They all immediately had questions, and the fear was gone.

They trusted Ada, so they trusted that I wasn’t a threat.

And I’m not. I don’t do drugs. I don’t drink, even casually.

I rarely hook up with anyone, but when I do, consent is very clearly laid out, and I never bring anyone to my home.

I don’t want to make anyone feel trapped or uncomfortable.

I make damn sure because I ask. Probably too much, if I’m being honest.

Last month, Kendra tricked me into coming to a board meeting where she started a vote to add me to the board.

Someone retired, and she wanted me up there.

I do best with computer engineering, and they are expanding so much, so Kendra is having me help her with CyberSafe.

I think having another person there helps her tremendously, also, so I at least feel like I am useful.

She seems far less stressed since I started.

I am walking down the sidewalk, doom-scrolling social media, glancing up to make sure I don’t run into anyone. There aren’t many people out tonight.

I pass a restaurant, and I start hearing what sounds like screaming.

Right away, I am on alert. I stop and look around, trying to figure out where it’s coming from.

I go down to the end of the block and turn left to follow the noises.

I pass an alleyway and hear something that sounds like both a scream and a moan.

It sounds… sad. I back up and look down the alleyway to see two men standing over a woman.

“Hey!” I scream at them as I drop my bag and run down the alley. “Get the fuck away from her.”

The men chuckle and just walk away. For a second, I think about running them down and beating the fuck out of them, but I kneel to the woman as she scrambles to pull her dress down.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” I ask.

“They’re going to kill me. You don’t understand. I’m dead… I can’t be here…” she says with a panicked voice as she jumps up.

“Whoa. Breathe for a second. Are you talking about those men?” I ask.

“Yes. No. Fuck, I don’t know. I can’t be here. They…”

“Come on,” I say. “My car is around the corner. If you can’t be here, let me get you somewhere safer.”

“Okay. Yeah. I, uh… Where the fuck are my shoes?” she says, spinning around, looking at the ground.

“Wait here,” I say as I turn and jog down to grab my bag. I put it over my shoulder and walk back to where she is standing. “Can I carry you? It won’t be far. I just don’t want you cutting your feet open.”

“Yeah. I, uh… They came on me. You might not want to touch me,” she says, looking down at herself in disgust.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I care more about making sure you are safe.”

“Okay,” she says. I wait until she steps closer to me before putting my arm around her so I can sweep under her legs and cradle her in my arms. I make sure her dress is covering her and start walking toward the parking garage.