The trauma and stimulation turned me into someone who suffered from mutism and panic attack disorder.
Night after night, I woke in horror, trapped in one nightmare after another. Only when my gaze landed on the familiar furniture did I begin to calm down.
I was trying to get out of bed to go to the bathroom when I heard raised voices drifting up from downstairs. It was Simon arguing with someone.
“Who the hell gave you permission to touch her? If I hadn’t gotten there in time, she’d never be a model again! What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled furiously.
I pressed my hand against the cold door and hid in the shadows. So… he wasn’t the one behind it?
Yet, it didn’t matter. If Simon hadn’t turned a blind eye to Kelly and his so-called “brothers,” they would’ve never dared lay a hand on me in the first place.
A quiet, bitter laugh escaped me. They were all cut from the same rotten cloth.
“I told you, this was between me and her. I’ve told you, no one was to touch her!”
Kelly’s sobs filled the air. They were sweet, sorrowful and manipulative. “Simon, how could you yell at me because of her? I thought you hated her! I was just trying to help you get revenge. What did I do wrong?”