Page 11 of Somewhere Without You

Ten

Dinner passed in silence. Jackson had retreated into his office, lost in whatever task kept him occupied, while I sat at the table, aimlessly pushing my food around.

Max had left shortly after our conversation, but his words lingered like smoke—subtle but impossible to ignore.

I know what fear looks like.

I hadn’t expected that.

He saw more than I wanted him to. More than I meant to show.

I should’ve been afraid—but instead, all I felt was. . . exposed. As if someone had gently peeled back the mask I wore so tightly, just to see if I was still breathing underneath.

A wave of nausea rolled through me, and I shoved my plate away.

Maybe Jackson’s absence was a good thing. Maybe his refusal to leave his office meant he was simply focused—dotting every i , and crossing every t .

Or maybe he knew something.

I sank back into my chair, the quiet pressing in around me. And for the first time in weeks, I couldn’t tell if I was more afraid of what came next. . . or the possibility that nothing would happen at all.

After dinner, I followed my usual routine. Brushing my teeth, washing my face, slipping into a pair of white floral pajamas. Jackson’s office door remained shut, but Icouldhearthe rustle of papers and soft footsteps from inside.

I climbed into bedshortlyafter 9 p.m. whenmy phone buzzed with a text from Katherine. I didn’t respond.She followed up with another call, but I let it go to voicemail, a familiar cycle of avoidance she must’ve expected by now.

I powered off my phone and tucked it in the drawer, deciding itwastime to go to bed. Iwasn’ttired. Ijustwanted the day to be over.

Sleep didn’t comeeasily. I spent whatfeltlike hours tossing and turning, until exhaustionfinallytook over and I drifted off—only to be jolted awake a few hours later by the thumping sound of music.

I blinked through bleary eyes, squinting at the clock on the nightstand. 3:02 a.m.Slowly, I climbed out of bed, the deep bass vibrating through the floorboards with each soft thud, thud, thud.

The housewasdark as I crept down the hallway, the only light a thin sliver seeping under Jackson’s office door. I hesitated, pressing my ear against the wood, but all Icouldmake outwerejumbledlyrics from a song I didn’t recognize.

I should’ve ignored it. I should’ve turned around and crawled back into bed.Butcuriosity got the best of me.

The doorknobwascold against my trembling fingers. I steadied my breath, trying to quiet the rush of my heartbeat, and turned the handle.

Inside, Jackson sat slumped over his desk, hisusuallyneat blonde hair in disarray, his navy blue shirt wrinkled and stained. The pungent stench of bourbon filled the room, and a sharp pang of regret hit me.

Ihadmadea mistake.

I started to retreat, hoping to slip back into the shadows without him noticing.

Butjustas I began to turn, the music stopped—the sudden silence shattered by the creak of the door. Jackson’s head jerked up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine.

“Emily?”His voicewasraw.

“I’m sorry,”I mumbled.“Isawyour lightwason. Ijustwanted to make sure youwereokay.”

A cold, unsettling grin spread across his face.“Everything’sgreat,”he said, leaning back in his chair.“Justhaving a little. . . celebration.”

Ilookedaround the room. Books lay scattered across the floor, a shattered decanter tipped on its side, its amber liquid spilling onto the floor like a pool of blood. This didn’tlooklike a celebration to me.

“Jackson. . .”I started.

“Come in. Have a drink with me,”he said.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not sure I—”

“It’s not an option, Emily.” A flash of something dark, flickered in his bloodshot eyes.

I waited in silence as he pulled out a bottle of Pappy’s from somewhere in his desk. The labelwasfaded, worn from use. The way he handled it socasuallytold me itwasalready more than half empty.

He took a long swig, the poison disappearing down his throat before passing the bottle to me. I reached for ittentatively, but he yanked it away.

“Ah, ah, ah,”he teased.“Not until you say please.”

“Please,” I managed, my pulse racing like a warning drum.

He grinned,finallyhanding me the bottle. Thesmellhit meimmediately, thick and overpowering, making my stomach churn. I raised it to my lips, forcing myself to drink. The burnwasimmediate, searing through me, and I fought not to cough, the bitter aftertaste clinging to my tongue like a curse.

“Thata girl,” he praised, watching me closely. “It’sgood, isn’t it?”

I nodded, dragging the back of my hand across my mouth, trying to erase the shame.

“Yeah, you can’t do much better than this,”he remarked, finishing off the rest of the bottle in one last gulp.

In the background, the music shifted to something slower.“These Days”by The Black Keys filled the room.

“Oh man, I love this song,”Jackson said, rising from his chair and extending his hand toward me.“Dance with me, Emily.”

I glanced at the mess—at the scattered books, and shards of broken glass, before placing my hand in his. Together, we moved to the far side of the room. Jackson pulled me in close, and I held my breath against the familiar scent of his cologne battling against the sharp tang of alcohol.

Maybethe meeting with Maxhadgonewell.Maybethis was a celebration, after all. I tried to relax, letting the tension in my shoulders melt away. Jackson’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me in tighter as I rested my head against his chest.

Thiswasthe manI’dfallenfor—the one whocouldbe gentle, the one who danced with me in the stillness of the night, long after the rest of the worldhadgoneto sleep.

I closed my eyes, trying to lose myself in the warmth of the moment. Jackson lifted my face to his, his mouth brushingsoftlyagainst mine. His lipsweretender, and he held me close as we rockedgentlyback and forth.

I couldn’t remember the last timehe’dkissedme likethat, let alone touched me at all. I fell into him, allowing myself to be pulled back into old memories of passion, of lovethatoncefeltlike itcouldlast forever.Maybethiswasa fresh start.Maybethiswasa new beginning.

Butthen, the kiss deepened. Jackson’s need grew, his touch becoming insistent, almost brutal. His hand tightened on the back of my neck, the pressure sharp and painful.WhenI tried to pull away, his grip only tightened further.

“Watchwhat you say, the devil is listening.”His wordswerehot and suffocating against my lips as he twisted the lyrics of the song into something more sinister.“He’s got ears you wouldn’t believe.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine, and the roomseemedto tilt.

One of my favorite movies growing upwas The Pagemaster, buttherewasone scenethatalways terrified me—when Dr. Jekyll transformed into Mr. Hyde.

I would cover my eyes or leave the room until itwasover.

The way Hyde’s face contorted intothatsinister grin haunted my nightmares.

I would always try to convince myself itwasn’treal.

Except this wasreal.

Jackson’s eyeswereblack with fury, his face twisted in a mask of rage. “Did youhonestlythink I wouldn’t find out?”he snarled.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. The words were there—somewhere, but my voice had vanished. I could only shake my head, a silent, trembling plea.

“You cozied up to Max behind my back,” he spat, his voice venomous. “Parading around like I wouldn’t notice. Like I’m some kind of idiot.”

My heart pounded. “That’s not what happened.”

He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Don’t lie to me. You think I didn’t see the way he looked at you? The way you let him?”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” I said, my voice cracking. “Max was just concerned. That’s all. He asked me if I was okay, and that’s it.”

“Oh, so now he’s your therapist?” Jackson sneered. “What, you think flashing a sad little bruise is going to get you a sympathy pass?”

My stomach sank. “You’re twisting this.”

“I trusted you,” he hissed. “And you humiliated me.”

He stepped closer. I could smell the bitterness on his breath—rage and control simmering beneath the surface.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I whispered, backing away.

But that only made him angrier.

“You cost me a deal because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut—or your eyes to yourself.” His voice dropped lower. “Do you have any idea what that deal meant for us? For me ?”

The song playing on his speaker ended, and in that split second of silence, adrenaline surged through me. I shoved him backward with everything I had and darted toward the door.

I could hear him laughing behind me, a sick, twisted sound, like he thought this was some kind of game.

I didn’t look back as I ran, but my foot caught on the corner of his desk, and I crashed to the floor. Jackson’s hand clamped around my ankle, a vice-like grip, pulling me across the rug.

“Where do you think you’re going?”he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. He flipped me onto my back, his face looming above me.“Ifyou want to act like a fucking whore. . .”He grunted, his hand movingswiftlytoward his belt.“I’ll treat you like a fucking whore.”

An unsettling realization washed over me.

Hewasgoing to rape me.

“I fucked her youknow,”Jackson said, struggling with his belt.

“Stanley’s wife.Thatcrazy bitchhadmy cock so far down her throat shewaschoking.

”His breathwashot on my face as he knelt over me, the stench of Pappy’s filling my nostrils.

Jackson took my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Please, don’t do this,”I pleaded, my voice trembling as I tried to pull away. His gripwasrelentless, his fingers digging into my cheeks like iron clamps.“I swear, Jackson, I didn’t do anything wrong. You have to believe me.”

A strangled breath escaped me, swallowed by the terrorthatwastightening around my chest. Hewasbigger, stronger, and Iwashelpless.

Jackson shifted, sitting back on his knees, his hands fumbling with the belt, struggling to free it from its prongs. Itwasstuck.

Thiswasmy chance.

I yanked my leg back, bracing myself, and kicked—hard, hitting him square in the chest. It didn’t knock him over, but it staggered him, giving mejustenough space to break free.

He gasped, a breath of pain and surprise escaping his mouth. I didn’t hesitate. I pushed myself up, ignoring the agony as shards of glass tore into the bottoms of my feet. Ihadtogetout,hadto reach the front door, scream for help, find someone— anyone.

ButI didn’t make it that far.

Jacksonwastoo fast.BeforeIcouldevengethalfway to the stairs, a sudden jolt of pain shot through my scalp. His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking me backward.

My head slammed against the wall with a sickening thud, and the world spun. His shadow loomed over me, his grip still firm, the belt now hanging loose in his hand.

I gazed up at him, blood soaking through my pajamas as tears carved streaks down my face.

Butitwasn’tthe blood or the tearsthatconsumed me—itwasthe sickening crack of his belt against my skin.

My body tensed, and a scream ripped through me, followed by another as the leather dug into my chest,thenmy arms as Idesperatelytried to shield myself.

Each strikewasa brutal reminder of my helplessness, the sound of the buckle slamming into my skin echoing down the empty hallway. The copperytasteof blood filled my mouth as my lip split open. I curled in on myself, but it didn’t matter. The pain kept coming.

“LOOKAT ME!”His voice shattered the air, and I archedinvoluntarilyas another blow landed, this time across my spine. “You fucking bitch,lookat me!” he shouted. “I’ve given you everything! A house, a car, a perfect life.Andthis is how you repay me?”

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The blows came so fast, they blurred together. After a while, I didn’tevenfeelthem anymore.Justa searing, blinding white pain, flooding every inch of me, drowning everything else out.

Jackson hovered over me, his face so close Icouldsmellthe sour, rancid heat of his breath. Hewasyelling, but his wordswerelostbeneath the roar in my head. Itwasas if hewerespeaking through water, muffled and distant.

Ifelthis fingers close around my throat, squeezing the life from me. My lungs burned, gasping for airthatwouldn’t come. Blood thundered in my ears, drowning out everything—my fear, my pain, the world itself.

Thiswasit. Hewasgoing to kill me.

I clawed at his hands, but itwaslike fighting against stone. My effortswereuseless.

His eyes were wild, desperation turning his grip to iron. “Lookwhat you made me do, Emily. Why? Why would you make me do this? I love you, don’t you understand?”

“I. . . love. . . you too,”I coughed, voice rasping.“Please. . . don’t. . .”

Jacksonwascrying now, his tears falling onto my face, mingling with the blood. His sobswerea bitter mix of rage and sorrow.Buthis grip didn’t loosen.

“I’m sorry,”he choked out.

Andjustlikethat, the world around me plunged into darkness.