Aaron: Book Three (Scars 3) Read Online Free Page A

my uncle, touch her and use her, ruin her.
    I had grabbed
the bottom of my t-shirt suddenly and yanked it over my head. I needed a shower
to wash her from me. I ran down the hall and then paused, right outside her
door. My fingers twitched to undo the bolt and throw open the door and yank her
from the bed to put her under the water so it rained down on her hard. I wanted
to scrub her skin until it turned red and all trace of me had run from her.
    I didn’t though.
I stood there under the spray myself for a very long time, but the disgust
never left.
    So I waited in
the dark, my mind lost in that farmhouse when it was just the two of us,
instead of here, where everything was glass and transparent. And I drank,
because what else would I do?
    It was near
midnight when she slipped inside. The buzz of the door, the alarm…it all made
it impossible for anyone to hide in this house. Not that she was trying to. Her
heels tapped against the tile as her silhouette slowly walked closer, black
against the moonlight. Her movements were graceful and slow, and if she’d been
drinking, it didn’t show. She stood a few feet away, silent as she watched me.
    “Have fun?” I
asked as I poured another drink.
    “Yes. Did you
‘have fun’ doing whatever it is that you do?” Her voice was quiet and
emotionless. Had she always sounded like that? Controlled and calm? Where was
the fear and desperation? Where was the begging?
    “Why, yes,
Rachel. I had a lovely evening. Thank you for asking.”
    I heard her suck
in a breath and could almost hear the bitterness on her tongue before she said
it. “Why make light of it? You do terrible things. How can you make a joke of
it?” She sounded like she really wanted to know. Was she condemning me?
    I moved
swiftly.  On my feet, arm outstretched to circle her wrist. She didn’t move
away or gasp with surprise. Even in the darkness, I knew that her eyes were
firmly on me, waiting.
    “Those ‘terrible
things’ pay for this,” I hissed. “They pay for this house and those clothes and
that car and whatever money you just spent out tonight.”
    “You sound like
my mother.” Her voice sounded weary and I dropped her wrist like it burned.
    “I’m not whoring
you out, am I?” I mumbled. “I’m not using you for anything.” I retreated back
to my chair and my drink. “You’re here because…why are you here?” My words
slurred. Shit. I was drunk. That realization didn’t stop me from taking another
drink and keeping my eyes down and away from her.
    “Because you
want me to be,” she said softly, and I heard her take a step toward me.
    I lifted my head
up and found her watching me. Even in the dark, I could see her blonde hair hanging
over her shoulder in a silky perfect line.
    “What?” I turned
away from her and finished my drink.
    “You’re out of
control,” she said softly, but there was an underlying hardness to that
smoothness, just like there was to her pale and blonde form. Underneath, there
was steel. It may have been decayed and rusted but there was still strength
there.
    “Shut up,
Rachel.”
    She sighed and
turned.
    “Stop.”
    She froze.
    “Your name. The
one you chose. You never told me it.”
    Slowly she
turned to look at me, one eye hidden by her hair. “That’s because one day I may
not want you to find me.”
    I stayed silent,
because I couldn’t speak. I was glad, so glad, that she couldn’t see me in the
dark. I had a life time of learning to keep my face still and unrevealing, but
right then I couldn’t be sure of that skill not betraying me.
    She waited, not
moving, but nothing came from me, and eventually, she turned in her heels and
walked away toward the light of the staircase.
    I poured another
drink, and then another, until it was hard to move. As I ventured up the stairs,
it was hard to get my feet to walk and find each step. It was like I was
climbing a mountain but there would be no victory once I reached the top.
    She was in bed,
in m ybed, with