Page 51 of The Retaliation You Deliver

I wanted it all. His wrath. His pain. His punishment. I deserve every bit of it.

But more than that, he deserves to break free of the bindings that are still wrapped tightly around him since the very first time my uncle touched him. He is exactly what I said, he’s a broken little boy now trapped in a man’s body.

He has no idea how to move on, how to deal with the pain he’s experienced. But he’s going to have to face it or the darkness festering inside him will kill him, beyond what everything my uncle did to him.

And I can’t allow that. I already have to live with the guilt of doing nothing that day, I can’t deal with having his life on my conscience too.

I have no idea how long I sit there, wishing I had a way to reach out to someone to come and save me.

Eventually my exhaustion gets the better of me and I drift in and out of a fitful sleep with my head resting against my arm, my body covered in goose bumps and Leon’s dried cum on my chest.

I want to say I regret tonight. But I think Letty might be right.

We needed this.

We both have demons from our past that need to be banished, need to be exorcized, and I think together is the only way we’re going to do it.

Individually, we can easily go under, lose ourselves to the darkness just like Leon has been doing the past ten years. But together, we can find a way through it all.

The sound of a lock clicking then a door opening has me wide awake in a heartbeat. I sit up, praying that Leon is about to appear in the doorway.

Either that, or Letty. I have no idea why I consider her worthy of helping me with this but I know she won’t judge the situation I’ve found myself in.

She gets it. More than I do, if I’m being honest.

“Leon,” I cry, my voice rough from crying and exhaustion.

Whoever it is crashes around in the main suite for a few minutes, and I come to the conclusion that it must be him because if it were anyone who’d come to actually rescue me, they’d be in here the second I called out.

My heart jumps into my throat when heavy footsteps head my way. I pray for him to appear, for his eyes to have softened, for him to have found the solace he needed in letting his darkness reign.

But all of that is forgotten when he does emerge and I’m faced with reality.

“Leon,” I breathe, concern for the broken man who has somehow buried his way under my skin even when I hate him rushes forward.

Silently, he walks toward the bathtub and turns the faucet on.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look at me as he works, pouring a generous amount of bubble under the running water, filling the room with a floral scent replacing the lingering smell of sex and pain.

Finally, he turns to me, lifting his hand to his split lip and wiping away a trickle of blood. But as I get closer and his injuries become even more apparent, I realize a split lip is the least of his worries.

“What happened?” I ask when he moves his busted knuckles toward the belt holding me in place and releases me.

His eyes find mine for a beat, and I gasp at the pain in his dark depths.

“Leon,” I say breathily as my useless arms fall to my sides. My pain is forgotten as I stare at him.

He shakes his head so slightly that if I weren’t paying as much attention as I am, I’d miss it.

Reaching out, he scoops me up from my floor and holds me against his body.

His shirt is stained with blood, his face, his neck, his arms, all are covered much like the night he came to my dorm.

I thought that night was bad, but the aura he’s giving off right now is downright terrifying. And the fact that he’s not even speaking makes it that much worse.

Walking me over to the bath, he lowers me into the growing bubbles and hot water.

My skin burns as I sink into it but the warmth is welcome after the hours I’ve been trapped and freezing stuck in the same position.