He takes a swig of liquor before pouring the whole bottle on the sofa and going for another one.
"You always said you didn't want to be fucked by that masked guy Brolik sent to your place when I came back empty-handed to him."
"Don't," I whimper, dizzy from the hits. "Don't talk about him." I can barely breathe just hearing him talk about that night.
"Yeah, yousayyou didn't want him to tie you up and blindfold you."
A flash burns before my eyes, and I drag in a painful breath.
"Help me, Chase."He mimics my feminine voice as he pours more liquid, this time on my dad. "Help me. They want the money. He hurt me."
He drinks more alcohol, throwing the empty bottle at me. I barely have time to plaster myself against the floor before it crashes into the front door.
"Hurt you," he snorts. "Didn't you enjoy the choking, Nyxie? Because youtold meyou didn't want him, and now you're telling me you didn't want that rich fucker either, but I'm starting to see afucking. Pattern."
"Stop," I plead weakly, tears running down my face, lost between this nightmare and the one from the past.
My limbs feel numb when he grabs my right hand.
"Shh," he murmurs mockingly. "The victim card isn't working with me anymore. You came when Brolik's man fucked you. You come whenIpay you to keep you and fuck you. I know you're no victim. You're a fucking slut."
"H-He…" I can't breathe. The ghost of his hand tightens around my throat.
My head pounds from the hit, and I'm starting to feel the pain everywhere in my body.
"He. He…" he imitates me. "He what? Come on, say the little lie you keep telling yourself. What did Brolik's guy do?"
"He raped me," I sob. The word dies on my tongue, barely a breath out of my mouth.
"Liar."
With a grip on my wrist, he slams my hand on the coffee table, and with the other, he smashes the bottle of alcohol on the corner.
I don't understand what's going on anymore, stuck between the past and present. All I hear on repeat in my head is that I'm a liar, and that the masked man Brolik sent to my house didn't hurt me because I enjoyed it.
"So much time wasted on you," he hisses.
"I love you," I lie again, as if it’s somehow going to save me. As if he doesn’t already know the truth.
"You ruined my fucking life," he replies. "And now I’m going to ruin yours."
That’s when I realize what he’s doing. He raises his hand holding the broken bottle, his eyes on my right hand.
"No!" I shriek, strength coming back to me. I pull with all my might. "Not my hand! Not my—" I gasp as he fights to hold me in place.
I would never be able to play the violin again. My life would be over.
"I'll do anything, please! Please…please…"
Time freezes.
His hand is coming down when the door bursts open. He startles, missing me by less than an inch as the bottle smasheson the table. Glass explodes everywhere, shards breaking into my skin. But at least he didn't hit my hand.
"Bitch." He spits on the floor next to me as he’s pulled away.
I catch Achilles from the corner of my eye, but all he does is throw Chase to the side with ease, focusing on me instead of him.
"Are you okay?" It's the first time I hear anything but arrogance or lust in his voice. Achilles sounds like me; worried, unsure, like for once, he doesn't hold fate in the palm of his hand.
