Rivers end boxset volume.., p.19
River's End Boxset Volume 3, page 19
Frenzied. Frantic. Her entire body was twitching as she released her rage. All her muscles were engaged and she violently broke free from the confinement in her mind.
How long? She didn’t know. It ceased to matter anymore. Or enter her consciousness. She was Iris suspending her life and her thoughts. Just like when he was on top of her and inside her…
Another violent sweep of emotions. Iris was crying and thrashing and wild before she was gone. Right out of her fucking mind.
Falling down to her knees, she cradled her tired wrist and let the wrench fall to the concrete. It clanged, breaking her reverie. Awakening her from the spell, the harsh sound snapped her psychotic anger and distress in two.
She blinked.
Then she lifted her head.
She… did all this?
Something dark and deep rumbled through her. No! Oh, no! She couldn’t have done all this. But she did.
She trashed her father’s business. No. Ohnoohnoohno! She ruined herself and her father.
She smashed the fender, hood and bodies of the two cars that were parked inside. She ripped out tools and manuals and personal items from the shelves of her own and others’ workbenches. She threw the loose screws and nuts, letting them scatter and fall like confetti all around her. It would take hours to clear away and pile and sort. It would take tens of thousands of dollars to fix the damage she did just to the vehicles.
Panic gripped her. Oh fuck. No. She committed vandalism. She committed a felony. Oh, fuck. No. NO.
Not only complicit in her own rape, she was also a violent criminal on her own now.
How could she do that? She bit her lip and held in another crying jag. Her dad… how could she do this to her dad?
Regret paralyzed her. He’d never forgive her. He shouldn’t. She totally trashed his legacy. His place. Their place. Like shitting where she eats.
Who could forgive her for this? How could they get over it?
They’d all hate her.
In addition to her own self disgust, now she would become the recipient of their disdain and vicious rage for the malicious wreckage she did for no reason.
Why?
She didn’t know. She just… went ballistic. No, she should have stopped herself and controlled her temper instead of letting loose. Somehow, she knew what she was doing. She must have wanted to destroy this place, as the disgust with herself was so deep, she wanted to piss on the place that provided a space for him to hurt her.
And she epically did just that. Once her dad knew what she did, he’d never forgive her. And her mom and sisters? She couldn’t lose them too.
No one could know she did it.
Shame compounded her disgust and fear. She rose to her feet. Her tears were finally done and she stopped. She wiped her eyes to dry them. The place was a den of repulsion to her. She walked, not ran, towards the door. She was hoping the goddamned door would burst open and her dad or Jack or Ian or someone else who grew curious as to why lights were on in the shop would enter and discover her here. Then she’d be caught. She’d be done. Over. She’d be stopped from the next thing she would do, which made it far worse.
But the door didn’t open. No one was there. No one caught her.
She clicked the lights off. A chill ran through her as the dark enveloped her mind. The yard lights scattered the dark into shadows, creating shapes and images that made her shudder. Crap. Shit. This was crazy.
She left the door unlocked and simply walked away. That’s all she could do.
Then she went home and took so many pills to knock her out, she overslept and never heard her alarm, being in a near coma the next day.
Panic infused her blood and she jumped out of bed. Throwing her clothes on and a hat, she was out the door in moments, only to stop dead and fall back against her front door when she remembered everything.
She’d trashed her dad’s place. She’d violently ruined her standing with her family.
It was just a matter of time before they would catch her.
Heavy in her heart and her feet, she trudged over to her truck. Wiping her tears, she welcomed the numbness.
Her knuckles went white as she fisted her steering wheel. A crowd was standing out in front of the shop when she pulled in. Swallowing the bile rising in her throat from her nerves, she didn’t know what to do. The cars and people were crowded, confusing her, and it took a moment when she jumped out of her truck to understand it. She needed to categorize it in order for it to make sense. She noticed the sheriff. She glanced around at the others. Her dad. Jack. Ian. Joey. Cops. Seeing all the Rydell brothers that owned the original ranch before it became a resort and rides and rescue was a rarity. The four brothers began it with only a horse farm.
They were talking earnestly in low tones with the sheriff. She saw waving and pointing and… and… wait… what? Mateo was standing between them all… and… what? The sheriff’s hand was on his left arm.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she rushed forward.
Her dad turned and concern and relief shone on his face. “Iris. I was so worried when I saw you were late. Good thing maybe… I can only imagine if you were here when this all happened… Being alone and vulnerable…”
She shuddered. She never considered herself vulnerable. She never once thought of herself as that, and now, here she was.
Her dad grabbed her and hugged her tightly, obviously relieved that she was not hurt. “I got here first and turned the lights on; I found the shop all torn apart. Parts and tools were thrown and scattered, some were ruined. Somebody beat on the cars and it’ll cost me a fortune to restore them. They are far worse now than they were when we got them. It’s really bad… but all I could think of was you. If you’d gotten here first, they might have still been there…” He shuddered. “God, Iris, we’ve never had anything like this occur on the whole ranch. I can’t believe how careless I’ve been in the past… and with you coming and going so often like you do.”
Did. Like she used to come and go. Too late to protect her, Daddy. But of course, she choked down the words. He released her from a big hug.
“Why is Mateo being held like that?”
“His criminal record and he was here this morning. I saw his car. I realized it after I went inside. When he came in, I questioned him. He claimed he saw the damage and feared he’d be blamed for it, so he left and came back to act as if he were surprised by it. Pretty suspicious. He said he didn’t call it in because of his past record and what people might assume. But he didn’t call me either.”
No. Oh, no, they blamed Mateo? He was totally innocent. As innocent as they were and they were blaming him? No. It wasn’t Mateo, it was her. Blame her. Her. Not Mateo.
She grabbed her dad’s sleeve when he turned back to the situation. Tugging it, she flipped him back around. “No. No, Dad, it wasn’t him. Mateo would never ever do something like this. Especially to you and our family. Dad. You know that.” Mateo lifted his eyes and pinned her with his dark gaze.
“Stop, Iris. We just need to let the sheriff do his job.”
No. It was all because of her. All of it. Everything. She ruined everything. Her dad’s business. Mateo’s life. Her own life. But she deserved that. They didn’t. The truth died on her tongue when she again pulled her dad and insisted, “Mateo didn’t do this.”
Her dad patted her damn arm. “Iris… we’ll discuss it later.”
Turning, Shane approached the sheriff and Mateo and the rest of the Rydells. They all spoke as Mateo stayed silent. He kept squinting at her. She was too ashamed to meet his gaze. She turned away, heated, confused and flustered.
Shame. Bitch. Die.
Falling silent, she huddled in a miserable ball beside her dad. She didn’t hear their words. Their reasons. Their lies that proved Mateo’s guilt. She even ignored her disgust with herself for not screaming out that she did it. And that bitch, fear, so sharp and metallic, filled her mouth and she realized she bit her damn tongue.
She turned and rushed away to spit the red gob of hemoglobin out. When she turned back, Mateo was watching her as they ushered him into the backseat of the sheriff’s car.
Crap. Shit. Damn… why was she here?
At that moment, Rose’s little car came to a screeching halt and she jumped out and rushed toward the police car and Mateo.
“Dad. What the fuck are you doing?”
What was Rose doing there? And how did she know Mateo was being arrested? There was only one way; was Mateo texting her? Rose? She was frantically crying and grabbing their dad’s arm. Her face went from streaming tears to cheeks red with anger as her dad leaned down, shaking his head and mumbling that it was none of Rose’s business or some such thing.
Afraid now for what she’d done and who she was, Iris was appalled with herself. She stepped back once, twice and a third step until she was far enough away, she couldn’t hear them. Their mumbles and strained, stressed facial expressions told her everything. As they were tucking Mateo into the sheriff’s car, Rose went after them and Shane had to hold her back…
She did that. Iris did it. She was the sole cause and reason. The vice and the sin. She couldn’t enter the shop and see her handiwork. She couldn’t watch Mateo being hauled down to the jail for her. Because of her. She could not watch Rose suffer either… Who knew Rose had such a connection to this… and Mateo? She obviously did. However, Iris lacked the ability to care.
There was nothing left in her. It was too much. She’d done too much and caused too much. She had to undo it. She had to change it. She had to leave. Run. Get away.
Leaping into her truck, she pulled out without glancing back. She stopped at her apartment to grab a few things in a backpack and simply left… She ran away. She had to drive to Quinn’s house, and she cried, but halfway there, she stopped. She was done. It didn’t happen. She refused to let it touch her.
She didn’t do anything. Nothing happened. She could pretend that. She could pretend until it became true. When she got to Quinn’s, she lied that she took the day off work to surprise him. She said it was all for him. But after being so sick, she wasn’t ready to have sex. She was still tired. Exhausted, really. And Quinn accepted that. He was so glad to see her. They went out to eat and they slept in his bed.
She smiled. She spoke about familiar topics and even laughed once or twice. Who knew? Whatever. She made it through the day and went home.
She learned Mateo was released on bail. Thank God. At least she could concentrate on today and pretend he’d be fine. He was not in jail.
She wished she were fine too.
“Iris, where the hell did you go?” Rose loudly yelled at her as she walked into the apartment. Iris took a step back when Rose jerked the door from her grasp and started in on her.
“Um… I wanted to surprise Quinn. I knew the shop was down and we couldn’t work… right?”
“No, Iris. Dad had no idea where you went or why. He was as freaked out over your disappearance as Mateo was at being blamed for something he didn’t do, obviously. But what is wrong with you? How could you leave right then? Isn’t Mateo your best friend? How could you be such a shitty friend?”
How could she? God, she didn’t know. Poor Mateo. She loved him, but look what her love did to him. She pushed past her sister. Without another word, Iris slammed the door shut while her sister’s mouth was still open and she was addressing her. Rose practically screeched at her. But Iris merely took the pills. Time to shut it all out. Rose. Mateo. Dad. Mom. Quinn. Rape. She had to. She couldn’t take anymore.
CHAPTER 12
FUCK YOU BECAME HER mantra. Her catchphrase. Hell, her slogan in life. Fuck you.
Fuck the hairy prick who pinned her down on a concrete floor and nearly snapped her in half. Yeah. Yes.
That’s the one who needed to hear it.
But deep in her gut, it wasn’t him she said the words to. It was to herself. Fuck her. Fuck her body. Fuck her pussy. Fuck the traitor in her beating heart. Fuck her. Fuck you.
“Iris, are you sure? This shit is permanent. It’s a bit extreme, even for you.”
She stared down the guy questioning her judgment. He had a quote written across his cheek. Why? Fuck if she knew. He just did. And yet he questioned her taste? At least she wasn’t marring her face.
“I’m sure. Now do it.”
He nodded and sat down on the stool beside her, bringing her arm towards him. She cringed at his touch. Scoffing, fuck you to herself, she asked him to touch her. No shit, she was paying him to touch her. How could she mind? He was a tattoo artist, for crap’s sake.
But still a subtle tremble ran down her arm, her spine and through her brain. No. Don’t let him touch you.
Ignoring it, Iris forced her arm to stay still. He was surprisingly gentle for how massive the young tattoo artist was. His own tattoos covered most of his upper body including his neck, face and head.
And he questioned her?
She watched him work. Breathing hard. Concentrating. And ready.
Hours later, he finished up. “There. Is that what you wanted?”
She stared at the freshly inked, reddened flesh. Fuck you was written in dark black ink on her inner arm, from her elbow to her wrist. It was impossible to miss as she turned her arm. She nodded. Getting up, she numbly followed him and paid for his services. Then she left with her new tattoo. She stared at her arm. Now perhaps, she’d believe herself. Fuck you. Grow up. Toughen up. You did this. Fuck you.
Perhaps she could fuck again.
She tried to… so much.
She tried to want Quinn. But felt nothing. Her sexuality was as appealing to her as a dead skunk.
On her own? Nothing. She tried hard to masturbate. How many times? Lots. She tried it while half-doped on sleeping pills and when she was drunk. She tried everything to get her body to react as it should. As it always did before. As it did for the disgusting monster that raped her. She touched it, stroked it, vibrated it. But nothing. It didn’t matter, her body refused to orgasm.
It orgasmed for rape, and nothing else?
But it wouldn’t. It. Would. Not. Not even once. It refused.
She tried getting off to the point of being stupid. Tears of frustration fell from her eyes and her wrist ached from so much effort. Fuck. You.
That’s all she could keep thinking. Fuck you, Iris.
Dirty, little whore.
I know, echoed in her head. I know I am.
Frustrated at her inability to regain possession of her body, she chose to permanently mark it with her disgust instead.
When she walked into her parents’ house, her mom started to say hello before she turned and stopped dead, her words instantly forgotten. “Oh, Iris… why?”
Her mom didn’t hedge around it. Her gaze was riveted to the black words on Iris’s inner arm. The black mark she was now advertising. Smirking, her spine was standing up straighter. Fuck you.
“You can’t get mad. You married Dad and he’s full of tattoos. What did you expect? All your daughters would grow up to be princesses like Rose? No. One of them was bound to be like Dad. And that would be me.”
Allison tilted her head. Her red hair fell to her shoulder in a lush, thick mane, so opposite of Iris. “No. No, but perhaps not writing the word fuck on your arm. Really? That’s all you had to go with?”
“Yeah. It is.”
Her mom’s eye twitched. “Iris, what’s up? What’s going on with you?”
She knew something was wrong. Iris wasn’t herself. But Allison didn’t know and couldn’t fathom that Iris was already dead. Being so disgusting, she deserved the vicious word tattooed on her arm. Maybe she would quit forgetting it. Or even beat it.
She wanted to have an orgasm with someone besides a rapist.
“Is it Quinn?”
“No, it’s not Quinn. Not everything in my life is about him. I know you’re glad I finally found someone you can put into a pretty box that I was never inside, but he isn’t like that for me. And I’m not ready to suddenly become the pretty, little girl you want.”
Allison stopped and stared hard at her. “Not for a single second of your life have I ever asked or wanted you to be that. I repeat, what’s going on, Iris?”
Why didn’t her mother believe her? Or just accept her and her sarcastic words? She kind of needed that now. If her mother insisted on fighting her, she could fight back. She could not, however, fall into her mom’s hug and be comforted. For what? Being a dirty, little whore? She couldn’t ask her mother to accept that of her. She was so good that she probably would have accepted anything from her daughter, out of respect for Iris.
“I’m just having a hard time trying to fit into Quinn’s world. It’s not like mine. I just don’t know if it’ll work.” Well, yeah, that’s a mild concern. Weeks ago, it was the only concern. But now? It had become the most trite, stupid thought she could ever imagine having.
Allison closed the distance between them and hugged her. Iris had to keep her shoulders squarely set and her face away from her mom. She feared she’d simply melt into her mom’s shoulder, gripping her mom’s neck and holding her mom tightly as she all but cried over what really mattered to her. She longed to tell her mother what fuck you meant. Nothing that anyone could ever guess.
“So the tattoo probably isn’t going to help that.” Her mom’s faint smile as she added some space between them reminded Iris of the truth.
She let out a short laugh. “Probably not. No.” Maybe it would finally prove to Quinn that there was no future for them. Shit. What? Iris ruined his reputation so he would eventually realize the tomboy mechanic from the mountains was just a fun piece of ass, a refreshing diversion in all her differences from the divas he’d been entertaining since birth. But there is no way that could really be his long-term reality. She would be relegated to his side piece. He just forgot that for a little while.
“Are you going to Quinn’s this weekend?”
Iris sighed, flopping on the couch, moving away from her mom’s warmth. “Yeah. His parents are coming to town and I have to meet them.” Quinn’s phone call with that fact might have been the reason for the new tattoo. Nerves had her stomach flipping.
