Give Me Grace (Devil's Right Hand MC #5)

Chapter 8

A/N: I know there is a trigger warning at the beginning of this book, but EXTRA on the trigger warning for this chapter. Read with caution please!

Grace's POV
August 20th, 2002

"Hold still you fucking bitch," Kyle demands as I try to wiggle out of his grasp.

Even after years of torture, years of consequences, and cigarette burns, I still fight him every chance I get. I know that the day I stop fighting is the day I stop being me. And I won't let him take that away too.

"Goddamn it Grace, I said stop!" He whisper-yells as his fist comes flying toward my face. His hand on my thigh digs into my flesh so violently it rips the skin.

Pain radiates through my body but I use it to fuel me as I try again to flip him off me. This time, I must've caught him off guard because his body weight shifts and in a moment of pure luck, he overcorrects and falls off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud.

A laugh rips through my throat before I can stop myself. Sure, in the grand scheme of things this little incident means nothing, but in this exact moment in time, I beat him. I've won. I fought and I won.

And Goddamn, this feels good.

Until I see the look on his face.

That look stops the laugh from escaping my lips. That look turns the blood in my veins to ice. That looks tells me that this single moment of victory isn't worth the hell he's about to unleash on me.

"Oh, you're full of jokes tonight, aren't you?" He snarls as he pulls a lighter from the back pocket of his jeans.

I swallow, waiting from him to pull out a cigarette, but he doesn't. The orange flame of the lighter glows in the dimly lite room as he straddles me on the bed. My attempts to fight him are futile as he pulls up my pajama top and in one swift motion he flips me over on my stomach. While holding my face into the pillow he touches the flame to my bare back.

I've felt a lot of pain in my life, but this has to be in the top ten. My screams are lost in the padding of the memory foam pillows, but I scream nonetheless. I can't stop myself.

Soon, the smell of burning flesh permeates the room and the corners of my vision go black against the pillowcase. I can't take this much longer.

"Please, stop." My pleas are muffled against the pillow as I try any way. I have to try anything to get the pain to end.

"Ha! Even now you think you can call the shots," he says with an evil laugh. "Even now you think you're better than me. But you caused this, Gracie, this is all your fault."

Suddenly, a woman's voice- a voice I've spent years trying to forget- echoes in my head. "Look what you've done Grace! This is all your fault!"

But it's not, is it?
This isn't my fault, right?

It's not my fault.
It's not my fault.
It's not my fault.

"Grace!" Someone yells, but it sounds so far away, like we're on two different planets. "Grace, come on, sweetheart." The voice tries again, but I can still smell my own burning flesh.

Finally, a hand shakes my shoulder, sending volts of electricity through me as I sit straight up, easily pushing Kyle off me.

But when I open my eyes, I'm not in that bedroom anymore. I'm not with Kyle.

I'm in my room at the clubhouse.
I'm with him.
I'm safe.

"Hey, you're okay," Christopher's voice soothes as his hands run up and down my arms. Even in my panic, I can't ignore the way his touch sends electricity through me.