Innocence (Burning Beliefs #1)

Chapter Thirty *edited*

THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME SCENES THAT MAY BE INTENSE AND/OR DISTURBING FOR SOME READERS. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION

Chapter Thirty

GRACIE'S POV

His eyes are staring. His irises are scanning up and down my body. His ivory green eyes looking at me like I'm food: hungry and feral.

I'm standing at the foot of the bed in nothing but my bra and underwear. The tattoos that run across my body look like raspberry jam, and the white dashes of bone accent the pictures. Lucas is lying down on the bed, his arms crossed, his head propped up against the board. Shirtless. I know that he's hot, extremely attractive... I also know that he's dark and twisted and dangerous.

The cold air makes my hair stand on end. Lucas's wild staring makes my heart pound cold. Two days of mistakes and punishments: he's hitting me because of things I do wrong. Don't eat without permission, Gracie. Don't speak without permission, Gracie. Don't laugh, Gracie. Never laugh. Never smile. It's not like I've wanted to.

The only glimpses of the world that I've seen are sunlight that worms its way through the curtains, the fresh smell of cut grass when the door opens, the rattling desert winds that shake the plastic windows. I've gotten used to the musty smell here; I haven't really had a choice. The only food I've had to eat were those fries forever ago. The last thing I had to drink was one quick sip of water from the sink when Lucas was out. He still hasn't caught me... right now, I'm just doing as he says out of fear. Fear that he'll hit me again: and I know he will.

Lucas sits forward. He smiles, and no humor lights his demonic eyes.

"Sit down," he says, motioning towards the edge of the bed.

I breathe in deeply. I calm my screaming nerves before putting my skin down on those cold sheets, the only protection I've had from life for the past two days. When Lucas is out, gambling or selling drugs or doing drugs or killing people for fun, I sit on the bed. Try not to feel. Try to be blank. I stare at the fuzz on the TV and try to copy it's emptiness.

I don't speak. I'm not allowed to. I hear Lucas slide forward on the bed until he's next to me. Our legs sit side by side, four in a row. Mine are still, my feet almost touching the ground. His are strong, tense, with heels firmly against the carpet.

"Don't resist," he whispers into my ear. "Don't move."

He pushes against me, his lips against mine, maneuvering his tongue inside my mouth, pushing past a barrier. I close my eyes and let physical feelings be the only feelings. His hands start to slide across my skin, warm to the touch, leaving smoke trails on whatever paths it glided through.

I stand still and let him kiss me. I stand still, breathe deeply, focus focus focus on the only thing I need to feel. The only thing I can feel.

Lucas's hands grow more frantic, like water molecules transferring into gas molecules. They slide more quickly, across the fabric of my bra, and suddenly I go cold. Water is poured over the flames quickly. He starts to pull the straps down, he starts to reveal everything, and I push against his chest, a small gasp of surprise escaping my lips.

His eyes are cold and glowing, like the eyes of a dragon.

"Don't resist," he repeats. "Don't move."

I give him a meaningful look. My heart pounds throughout my hollow body. My walls are going to melt, and I know I can't stop the heat. Pain extends to my chest, an aching, stinging pain, resonating like cello vibrations through my soul. Please don't. Please.

He doesn't listen. He starts to kiss me again. I stiffen up. I don't move, I can't move, and everything falls into pieces. His eyes close, and I close mine too. I don't want to see this part. I don't want to even remember any of this at all.