Page 25

Eliza

It’s been five days, and I’m finally able to go home.

I received hundreds of stitches and an endless amount of glue to close my wounds.

I had a tear in my rectum that luckily didn’t require anything other than time.

I was given stool softener, so I am a bit more comfortable, but it will heal on its own.

I was also given strict bedrest instructions, but I’m required to move around still.

I can’t just lay in bed all day, and I don’t want to.

I spent every second of my time in the hospital not speaking or looking at anyone. I was just there.

They were reluctant to tell me that he is still out there somewhere, but ultimately Jasper was the one that explained that he was wanted in connection with nearly thirty rapes, ten murders, and a string of aliases.

They aren’t even sure that Troy is his actual name, nor did they know where he went.

His clothes are gone from his house, and his car was found abandoned sixteen hours away.

He is on the run and likely under the assumption that I am dead.

Obviously, I am not, but it’s taking me this long to stop wishing I was.

I am pretty sure I was also on suicide watch because they had a psychiatrist coming to talk to me.

Eventually, I spoke to her and told her that it’s not that I wanted to die, but I have just grown so sick and tired of being hurt by him.

I’m tired of surviving just to be hurt again and again.

I explained that I will always worry about when he will hurt me again so long as he is alive, but I can find solace in the fact that he is far away.

Now that the FBI is involved and he is plastered all over the news in every state, he would not risk coming back here.

He might be stupid, but he is not ignorant.

I am lying in bed with Julian, Calder, and Ryan cleaning my wounds and changing the bandages. I have my head laid on my arms, and even though I’m in a better place, I still haven’t said much. They are talking and carrying on as normal, and I appreciate it more than I will ever be able to explain.

“Can we ask you something?” Julian asks.

“Not like I can say no and walk away,” I say flatly.

“True. You’re kinda stuck with us,” Ryan says.

“What’s up?” I ask with a sigh. They all help me get up from the bed so I can stand. I haven’t moved much today, and I need to.

“What can we do to make you feel safer?”

“I don’t want to uproot your lives,” I say.

“That’s not what I asked. What will make you feel safe?” Julian asks. “A guard dog?”

“A dog?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Erica’s mom trains Rottweilers for personal protection. She has a brother and sister right now. They are fixed and fully trained.”

“Troy hates dogs,” I say.

“Even better,” he says. “I’m asking if you want to move, but really, I should just tell you that we are moving.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Across town. It’s a bigger house on about fifty acres,” Ryan says.

“It’s nice. The property is surrounded by a ten-foot wall,” Calder tells me. “The front gate is heavy-duty, and the security system will keep just about anyone out.”

“That’s a lot of money,” I say.

“We have the money,” Julian says. “The property is purchased, and we are moving in tomorrow.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because you deserve a fresh start somewhere you feel safe. The house will have a fully functioning office for us, so you don’t have to leave the property unless you want to. I know you are itching to work since I saw you looking for your laptop yesterday.”

“I was trying to be discreet,” I admit with a small smile.

“I know you find solace in your work, so we won’t stop you, but we are moving. Today the movers are coming, and everything will be taken to the new house. The last of everything will go tomorrow.”

“Do I really get dogs?” I ask. I love dogs so much. Troy is terrified of them.

“You do. Want to meet them?” Ryan asks.

“Are they here?!” I ask happily.

“Yeah, Erica is downstairs,” Calder says as he helps me step into loose-knit shorts. Julian helps me into an equally loose-fitting shirt before kissing me.

“What are their names?”

“Jack and Jill,” Julian laughs. “When you are feeling better, Erica will help you work with them. Until then, they will just acclimate to us.”

“Okay,” I say, smiling brightly.

Julian and Calder help me walk down the stairs to the living room, and I gasp when I see two massive Rottweilers laying on the floor in front of Erica. They pop up, and Erica smiles when they happily trot over to sniff my feet.

“They are massive,” I say, carefully sitting on the couch so I can pet them.

“Jack is 170 pounds. Jill is 150 pounds,” Erica says. “They were the only two in their litter.”

“They’re healthy?” I ask.

“Very,” she says. “How are you?”

“Better,” I sigh and focus on the dogs. Their entire existence brings me peace, and it suddenly makes sense.

These dogs are more than just for protection.

They are peace of mind and something for me to focus on.

Everyone knows I’m going to spoil these dogs rotten.

I notice their collars and look up at Erica.

Ryan sits on the coffee table in front of me and pets the dogs as he talks.

“The psychiatrist recommended you get a service dog for PTSD. After you finally opened up and discussed everything, they diagnosed you with PTSD. Obviously, it’s more complicated than just one time talking to you, but we would be happy to set up an appointment next week,” Ryan explains.

“They give service animals for PTSD?” I ask. “I thought they were guard dogs?”

“They are,” Erica says. “My mother specifically trains guard dogs who can act as service animals for PTSD. They are meant for situations like this. It’s unfortunately common.”

“So, they can go everywhere with me?” I ask.

“Yes. You’ll just have to work with them so they can get comfortable taking commands from you. They are already very comfortable with you,” she says. “It’s a process.”

“But they will protect me?” I ask.

“Yes, from others and yourself,” she says bluntly. “Believe me when I say that I understand. PTSD eats away at your soul. It’s going to get so much worse before it gets better.”

Over the next few months, I heal and start training with the dogs.

We get moved into our new home, and I find peace with knowing he is out there.

It will be a long time before I am able to be alone again, but my men have the patience of a saint.

My nightmares grow to the point that I start waking up screaming, just like I did when Troy whipped me, but within seconds one or both of my dogs lies on me.

The weight of them on top of me calms me to the point that I can talk to the guys.

Once the dogs sense that I have calmed down, they return to their beds on the floor by the door.

They have free roam of the house, but they choose to lay at the foot of the bed between me and the door.

It took me two months to do anything more than kiss and an extra month to fully have sex.

They were gentle and mindful of not only my new triggers but also my new limits.

Impact play was a no-go for a long time, but I was determined to find that peace again.

We did have to work with Erica in the beginning so that the dogs did not maul anyone.

The first time one of the guys smacked my ass, they were instantly ready to eat Julian.

I had to give them reassurance so that they knew the difference between me being in trouble or not.

This led to teaching them new commands. They’re brilliantly cute weapons who seem to thoroughly enjoy squishing me into a calmer state.

I also taught them to take the guys down and lay on top of them too, which I find hilarious.

Troy wanted to break me. And for a while, he did.

Not just my skin, not just my body, but the pieces of me I thought no one could touch.

He shattered who I was and called it love.

What he never understood and could never control was that I didn’t stay broken.

I was bent, bruised, and torn apart in places I didn’t even know existed.

I found the kind of love that doesn’t demand silence.

I found men who didn’t just pick up the pieces; they taught me how to hold them.

They gave me the confidence to know that when I rise, I am not rising alone.