Dark Devotions by Nichole Greene
5
OLIVIA
I wakeup slowly in the dark. I blink a few times, my heart begins to race as I see it’s pitch black, and I can’t figure out where I am. I toss the thin blanket off me and stumble groggily to my feet, bumping my leg on the frame of the bed.
Did Tripp find me?
Did the guys send me away?
Is he finally going to kill me?
I was so close to freedom.
The panicked thoughts spiral in my mind as I walk blindly toward what I think is the door. I find the knob, and as soon as it’s open, I breathe a sigh of relief. Taking deep, calming breaths, I stand in the doorway.
I’m safe.
I’m at Sawyer’s house.
I can hear all the guys talking as I walk down the hall toward the kitchen. There’s low laughter, and the din of the television in the background. Nolan and Grant are on a video call with a red-haired guy in a suit. Their backs are to me, but the guy they’re chatting with notices me and brings it to their attention. Grant looks over his shoulder once and turns back to the conversation. Nolan tells him goodbye and stands to walk toward me.
His arms wrap around me, just tight enough to comfort me without hurting. I stand in his embrace for longer than is probably acceptable, but the comfort of his touch is indescribable.
“Livvy,” he nuzzles against me, “why is your heart racing?”
“I woke up disoriented.” I step out of his arms and look down at my feet. “The dark and closed doors scare me.” My cheeks heat in embarrassment and shame. I’m a grown adult with the fears of a toddler.
“Hey,” he says gently as he lifts my chin. “Nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Want to tell me why?”
I look up into his warm hazel eyes, the flecks of green are more pronounced tonight. All conversations in the room have stopped, and when I look past Nolan, I see everyone looking my way. They’re spread out all over the room, but their eyes are all on the same person, me.
I give a slight nod and walk into the living room. I take a seat in one of the armchairs across from the couch. There’s so much to tell them, so many things to explain, that I’m having trouble finding a jumping off point. I really need them not to react strongly. If they explode with any volatile emotion, I know I’ll end up withdrawing.
“Can you guys not show emotion while I tell you what has happened?” I pull my feet up in front of me and wrap my arms around my shins. “Just sit there and listen?”
Each of them nods or says yes, their faces blank.
“It’s hard to figure out where to start,” I say. “I guess I’ll start with the early days of the abuse and then walk you through the rest. It started as soon as we were married and had moved out to LA. At first it was little comments here or there about my body, what I was eating, how I compared to the women around us. He’d say things like ‘Jade stays in good shape for her husband, why can’t you do that?’ or something similar. He would suggest I get breast implants. He basically picked out everything I’ve ever felt self-conscious about and exploited it.”
I take a moment to breathe through the pain of the memories. I glance at each of them, trying to gauge their thoughts and feelings but so far they’re all calm.
“So he planted all these insecurities within me. When we’d go out to charity events or red carpets, he’d be so wonderful in front of everyone. He’d dote on me and be, what I then thought, was protective.” I look around at them. “I see it now for what it was. He never saw me as anything other than a possession.
“The first time he hit me, he played it off like an accident. He made me think it was partly my fault for the way I moved. He promised that he would never do it again.” I scoff at myself for believing his lies. “He didn’t for a while, but the lying and mind games started next. I brought up counseling, and he told me he thought I could definitely benefit from it. Just me though, not him.”
I take a second to tuck my emotions away. This next part will be hard for me to talk about and burying them deep down is the only way I’ll get through it. “That was all before my parents died. Then, when they passed away, I went into a full, deep depression. I hadn’t seen them since the wedding. He told me you guys sent me a plant but were too busy to come for the funeral.”
Lake grumbles at that. Grant clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but a small part of me is comforted by his minimal reaction.
“I didn’t get out of bed for weeks. I hadn’t made close friends, and Tripp was never around. When he was, he complained about my depression. He finally brought in a psychologist to help me with the grief. At least he did that much, I guess.”
I notice Nolan and Sawyer share a serious look.
“After seeing her for a few months, I finally felt like I could handle a charity event. That was the second night he hit me. It was hard enough to give me a black eye and bloody nose. He walked right past me, crumpled on the floor like an insignificant piece of shit.” I look down at my knees. “I was in the bathroom cleaning up when he came in, full of remorse. He begged me, on his knees, to forgive him. Said that stress from work made him lash out at me. He promised he would never do it again. He gave me some painkillers and tucked me into our bed. I didn’t wake up fully for two days. Every time I would start to come to, he’d give me another set of painkillers.”
A tear slides unbidden down my cheek. I swipe it away quickly. Nolan grabs a box of tissues and sets them beside me, kissing my temple before sitting back down. They haven’t even heard the worst part yet. I take a deep, shuddering breath before continuing with my story.
“I didn’t realize then what he was doing but I do now. He kept me sedated so he could build something in the basement. Have you guys heard of panic rooms?” I wait until they answer to keep going. “Well, the house we bought had one from the previous owners. He had it retrofitted to where it locked from the outside instead of the inside. He was the only one with a key. He started locking me in there when I displeased him. If I said the wrong thing at a party, he’d lock me up. On days I was locked in the panic room, I’d only get to go to the bathroom once. That’s when he started having the vegan chef come in.
“One day, he left and I decided to make a break for it. He hadn’t hit me in a few months, and our exchanges had been civil. I went straight to the police and told them everything. I thought they were taking me seriously but not an hour later he strolled through the station doors to get me. He had donated a large sum of money to a charity for the families of fallen officers. In doing that, he’d become friendly with several detectives and the deputy chief. One of them called him to let him know where I was.”
More tears fall, and I blow my nose. The feeling of absolute isolation and fear I felt leaving that station slams into me. “I considered running, just straight running down the street from him, but right as I was about to, he pulled me to him and promised my punishment wouldn’t be as bad if I just got in the car with him quietly. He had told his friends on the force that I was suffering from severe mental illness in the wake of my parents’ death. So, no one questioned him.”
When I look over at Lake, I can tell his anger is barely restrained. The veins in his forearms are protruding and pulsing with repressed rage. His nostrils flare before he stands and walks out of the apartment. I give the rest of the guys a questioning look, not sure whether I should wait or keep going.
“Keep going,” Sawyer says gently.
“He’s going to need a while to calm down,” Grant adds, the second sentence he’s directed to me in as many days.
“Tripp kept me locked in the room for three weeks. The only time he’d let me out was to shower, which he only allowed when he wanted sex, or to use the bathroom. He gave me my meal then, too. I got pregnant while I was locked in there. He wanted me to get an abortion because kids weren’t high on his list of priorities. I wanted to think about it.
“A small part of me wanted to keep the baby because then I’d have a reason to fight back. A reason to wake up every day and function.” Sobs overcome me. The clashing emotions of losing a baby I was in no place to keep but wanted to anyway assault me. My body heaves with grief that I never allowed myself to fully feel. I was always on guard, constantly in fight or flight mode with him. I couldn’t let myself feel anything. “I ended up losing the baby a few weeks in. I hadn’t even seen a doctor, but the pregnancy had been confirmed via bloodwork.
“He didn’t care that I lost the baby. Now looking back on it, I wonder if he put something in my food to cause a miscarriage. I don’t even know if that’s a thing, but there is nothing I wouldn’t put past him now. He is truly evil.” I take another deep breath. “I tried to commit suicide after that. Everyone was dying around me—my parents and the baby. I was isolated from everyone and everything that had ever mattered to me. I didn’t have anything to live for. So I grabbed one of my razors while I was showering and slit my wrist.” I hold my wrist up to show them the thin scar. “He heard me hit the floor and stopped the bleeding.”
“Fuck.” Grant stands quickly. “I’m gonna go check on Lake.” He’s out the door before anyone can say anything.
“Should I wait?” My eyes bounce back and forth between Sawyer and Nolan as I stop and grab a tissue. “Or keep going?”
“There’s more?” Nolan looks at me with his soulful eyes so full of sadness and pain that I nearly lose it again.
I nod with a frown.
“Keep going, Liv,” Sawyer urges me to continue with a neutral face. “We can fill them in later.”
“I was no longer seeing the therapist. The only people I would see were our house staff, and he had convinced them all I was mentally unwell. I’d probably still be there if our butler hadn’t forgotten his wallet one night and witnessed the most severe beating I’d ever gotten. Tripp came home drunk and with lipstick on his collar. He became enraged when I didn’t care about it.
“There were two things in the panic room with me, a tv and a small mattress. I wasn’t allowed to have a blanket or pillow after the suicide attempt. When he was feeling extra sadistic, he would turn the tv on and force me to watch him sleep with other women. I could close my eyes and not watch, but the volume was always loud enough to still hear, even with my hands over my ears.
“Then he’d come downstairs and force me to have sex with him. After listening to him be with other women. It was humiliating and degrading and disgusting. I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole again.”
A fresh wave of tears and sobs begins, and the next thing I know I’m plucked from the chair and in Nolan’s arms. He sits down on the couch with me in his lap. I cling to him, the sound of his heartbeat in my ear keeping me grounded. I can feel his breathing is shallow; he’s fighting so hard to contain his emotions. I think he needs to hold me as much as I need to be held.
Sawyer slides onto the couch beside us and pulls my feet into his lap. One hand lifts my wrist, the one with the scar, and he brings it to his lips, healing just a tiny bit of my battered heart with a chaste kiss.
They don’t say anything. What can they say to all of what I just laid down for them? I can’t imagine how crazy it sounds. Like some kind of movie about a psycho mastermind criminal or something.
Sawyer’s phone buzzes with a text. He tells us that Lake and Grant are working off their aggression in Lake’s home gym and that they’ll be over in the morning. I’m relaxing into Nolan’s arms, comforted and feeling so blessedly safe. Sawyer turns on an old episode of Friends, my favorite show. We settle in together, Nolan and Sawyer sitting so close they’re almost on top of each other. I can’t see the tv, but I can hear it, and that’s good enough for me.
They’re each rubbing some part of my body, Sawyer my ankles and feet. Nolan’s fingers are gently stroking the exposed skin of my lower back where my shirt has ridden up. I’m honestly surprised at the tingling warmth I’m feeling from their touch. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel anything remotely close to this again. I worry that Tripp managed to kill the spirit of my sexuality.
After two episodes, my eyes are heavy. Sawyer looks over at me and gives me a small smile and a gentle squeeze on the ankle. “Can I ask you something?” he asks. “Be completely honest, you won’t upset me.” His blue eyes are serious as he looks at me.
“Ask away.”
“Would you feel comfortable sleeping in my room tonight? I’ll sleep on top of the covers, no pressure there. I just can’t stand the thought of you not being right next to me.”
I think about it before I answer. Can I handle that? Tripp never cuddled me, even before everything went to shit, so it’s not like that would trigger thoughts of him. Every touch I’ve felt from the guys has brought me comfort. I trust them like I’ve never been gone.
“I’ll try,” I say to him.
“Can I join the slumber party?” Nolan asks with a slightly teasing tone.
I tilt my head back and look up at him. The thought of being surrounded by these two makes me feel cared for and protected. I look over at Sawyer questioningly, it’s his bed after all.
“It doesn’t bother me a bit,” he confirms.
“Okay,” I say softly, “I’m okay with trying it.”
Sawyer helps me off Nolan’s lap and leads me down the hall to his room. I haven’t been in here yet, and I gasp in surprise when we walk in. Two of the walls are floor-to-ceiling windows giving a beautiful view of the dark city skyline. I walk over to the window and look out at the city I’ve missed for years. I missed the lights and the noise.
I hear Sawyer pull the sheets down for me. He tosses a clean white undershirt to me and gestures to the right. “The bathroom is back there. You can use whatever you want or need to get ready. I’m going to go lock up.”
I watch as Nolan grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls it over his head. He has at least three big tattoos on his chest and abs. I’m transfixed as he unbuttons his jeans and pushes them off. More tattoos cover one of his thighs. I tear my eyes away before he notices, and hurry to the bathroom. I see a spare toothbrush on the counter and use it before splashing cold water on my face. I strip out of my clothes, trying to decide whether to find shorts, but the shirt hits me mid-thigh, longer than some dresses I’m used to. I’ll be okay.
I walk out to find them both chatting, leaning up against the headboard, the low light from a bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the room. I’m relieved at the feeling of appreciation I have for these two men and their beautiful bodies. I know nothing is going to happen, I’m not ready, and I don’t even know if they would think of me like that after all these years and knowing how ruined I am. At least I have those thoughts and desires though, however fleeting.
Sawyer stands so I can slide into the middle. I crawl in and look up at him. When he hesitates, I pat the bed beside me. “I’m okay. I actually feel really safe snuggled between you. When you guys touch me, I feel less disgusting. Like I’m worthy of human affection.”
He gives me a sad look and gets in bed beside me. I turn onto my side, facing Nolan but putting my foot on Sawyer’s leg. “Do you still sing and play guitar and piano?” I ask Nolan.
“Of course.” He turns his head, making eye contact with me. “Why?”
“Will you sing me a song?”
“Anything for you, Livvy.” He scratches his chin while he thinks about what to sing. “Okay, I have the perfect song for you.”
He starts singing, and I immediately know what song it is, ‘Photograph’ by Ed Sheeran. My body relaxes into the mattress as I listen. Sawyer turns to loosely spoon me, asking me if it’s okay, if I’m hurting, as we listen. I fall asleep with Sawyer at my back and Nolan’s fingers linked with mine, his voice quietly filling the room.