The Sect (8 page)

Hovering over Noah and me, Reven glared down at my face. His hazel eyes darkened with fury. “Since you’ve forgotten what your teeth are for, it seems you no longer need them.” His attention darted to Noah. “I’d rather not make a mess of myself with this one. She isn’t worth it.”

“It would be my pleasure, Reven.” Noah pinched the sore portion of the bridge of my nose, forcing my mouth to remain open. The heavy padding of feet announced another man’s arrival. He was tall and oddly shaped. A large gash of a scar skewed the left side of his face. He seemed all too compliant to hand Noah the extraction tool. The tool in Noah’s hand was shoved inside my mouth. The cold metal pressed between my lips and forced my tongue down.
 

I struggled to no point.
 

The pliers gripped, cracked, and crunched my third molar; my gurgled scream echoed throughout the room. Copious amounts of salty metallic liquid choked me and slid down my throat. The eyes of the man above me told me he enjoyed watching me express my pain. Another pinch and crunch hit a nerve. The turmoil became too much. Shock protected my body and shut everything down, welcoming me into the darkness.

T
HE
P
AST

“We don’t have to go,” Reese assured me as he leaned over my vanity to check the styling of his hair.

I placed my last gold earring in my ear, giving him a smile. “My mother never misses the Annual Mayor’s Arts Awards. She would never forgive me if I didn’t go.”

“She just wants to shuffle you off to the most available bachelor,” he quipped with a dry smile.

“It’s a good thing I’m not available.” Grinning, I switched my position in the chair to face him. A misbehaving curl flopped down on his forehead. I reached up to touch his face and fix it only to be met with air. He recoiled from me, his smile tempering.
 

Our relationship was undemonstrative in the most extreme sense of the word. His little sister, Phoebe, tagged along on our date nights and every moment we were alone. In the rare occasion she was late or nowhere to be found, forcing us to deal with one another without a buffer between us, Reese was always visibly nervous. We never kissed. We never hugged. We never touched or held hands. It was exactly what I needed.
 

The first time I was touched intimately by a man was a time I’d never forget. A time I wished I could forget.
 

Reese’s concern was warranted because there would be a large chance the son of a US Senator would be there to remind me of the night everything changed for me.

Reese stepped backward, giving me space to stand. “Are you ready?”

I turned back to the mirror, patting my headful of pristine curls and making sure my dark pink lipstick didn’t migrate to my teeth. With a nod, I headed down the hall of my condominium, located inside a Victorian row home located on Church Street not too far from Dupont Circle. The condo was a graduation gift from my parents after I completed my business degree at Georgetown. The position of a Trade Marketing Manager for my mother’s company was handed to me shortly thereafter. It meant long hours and constant traveling, but I was never one to feel safe in one place for too long.

Not anymore.

“Keaton!” My mother waded through the crowd, leaving my father behind. She donned a floor-length charmeuse dress. Her hair was styled up in a neat chignon. Her makeup was effortless and flawless, showing off her fine features in a perfect way. Hugging me tightly, she asked, “Why didn’t you sit with us?” She cupped my face in her hands while wearing a small pout. “We were in the orchestra section.”

“Mom, you remember Reese,” I introduced them with a palpable sardonic tone. They’d met several times before, but she always had a pension for behaving as though he didn’t exist when I brought him around. Or worse yet, she pretended to forget major details about him—not because she couldn’t remember, but because she wanted to make him feel insignificant. I knew she didn’t purposely mean to; there wasn’t an evil bone in the woman’s body. She was just awful at hiding her true emotions when they fell in the area of strong distaste, even if she hurt the other’s feelings with her behavior.

“Don’t be silly.” She gave me a plastic grin. When her gaze cast onto Reese, she stared beyond him and to the bronze head Kennedy statue behind us. “Keaton”—she clasped my hand—“there is someone I want you to reacquaint yourself with.”

“See,” Reese mouthed at me and rolled his eyes.

Pouting and fluttering my eyelashes, I invited him to come along by gesturing with my hand as my mother led me through the crowd.

He shook his head, disappointment written all over his face, and pointed to the entrance doors.

Dejected, I turned around, wondering where my mother intended to lead me. When I became faced with the man my mother wanted me to chat with, I froze in place.

“Keaton, it’s been a long time.” His smile reached his devilish brown eyes as he palmed his jet-black hair back, unnecessarily. Not a piece was out of place from the modern tapered pompadour hairstyle. He would’ve been considered attractive, but behind the exterior lay a very disturbed man.

“Keaton”—my mother clutched her collarbone, smiling at me wistfully—”you look like you don’t remember him. He took you to your Cotillion, remember?”

“Of course, I remember.” I plastered on a smile just as plastic as hers and spoke through my teeth. We dated for several years after my Cotillion. We broke up the night of my high school graduation.

“He’s done well for himself.” She nodded in appreciation. “He went to the…what was that military academy?”

 
Gregory responded—stating the name of the prestigious military school he attended in New York—while never taking his eyes off me. He ogled my body with a mischievous smirk, making me more uncomfortable than I already was.

“Right,” my mother giggled like a schoolgirl in love. She knew very well where he went. She saw fit to tell me how she kept tabs on him throughout the years, wondering why and where we went wrong. Thanks to her, I knew that Gregory was being groomed to follow in his father’s footsteps. To my mother, his status made him a goldmine—a way to climb the political social ladder. While she was happy running F.A.C.E., she held to dreams of obtaining a political career. Her act was one that she’d taught me many times; when in the company of a man you’re interested in, never outrank him in intellect.

What she didn’t know is that Gregory Mitchum had been corresponding with me for years. He’d never let me forget, and he would never leave me alone. His letters, texts, and calls became relentless throughout the years. When changing my phone number and address didn’t work, I learned to ignore and silence his attempts to correspond with me. Going to the authorities about his psychotic behavior was not a viable option. The elites had a special way of doing things. Disrupting their distorted concept of justice—throwing money at the issue—brought about dire social and financial consequences to the accuser and everyone he or she knew. I’d tried to take out a restraining order using a different name; it was rejected the moment the officer saw the Mitchum name.

“Mom”—I regarded my mother, clinging tightly to her hand—“Reese isn’t feeling well. I really should go.”

“Nonsense,” she balked, removing my hand from hers. “You two haven’t seen each other in years. Catch up.” She gave me a nod and disappeared into the crowd.

Gregory’s cocky demeanor returned and sent revolting shocks up my spine. “You look gorgeous, Keaton,” he offered. “You really…grew into your shape. I’ve seen it from afar, but being able to be with you, close like this, I can really appreciate it.”

The corners of my mouth turned down in disgust. Without a goodbye, I turned to leave. He caught my elbow, stopping me.
 

I knew how to play the part and never make a scene. It was drilled into my head so often, the action was effortless, and sometimes it hindered me from what I should’ve done, run and make a scene.

“Come with me. We should talk.” He pulled me, coercing my reluctant feet to follow him.

Standing on the roof terrace, I looked out at the Potomac River, shoving back memories that made me want to cry.

“I think about you so much it kills me, Keaton.” He firmed his hold on my wrists; his eyes softened and glazed over. “Why are you punishing me? I’ve apologized for four years. Do you know how much you’re hurting me by being this way? Stop being a bitch to me. It drives me fucking nuts when you ignore me.”

As I closed my eyes, the tears began to spill down my cheeks.

He shushed me, running his hand up my arm, causing a burning sensation that was far from pleasurable. “Don’t do that, angel. I love you; you know that. All I want to do is take care of you and for us to be together.”

I receded from him, turning my back on him. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

He grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to turn around and held me tightly against his form. “I made a mistake. I know that. I know you’ve forgiven me. You could’ve reported me, but you didn’t.”

“Because I believed you!” Sobbing, I lifted my gaze to his face. Rage and disgust became a brewing storm, ready to unleash on him at a moment’s notice. “I didn’t want to ruin my parents’ careers.”

“You were smart to listen to me, but come on.” His hands slipped up to hold my head in a vice grip, preventing my retreat. “I got a little carried away one night, but with what we had? Don’t you think you’ve tortured me enough?”

My body shook with anger and hatred. I found it hard to stare into the face of the monster who tainted my soul and devoured who I used to be. Subsequent to hollowing me out, he had returned to taunt me further. His words were outright lies. We had nothing. He was a jock I stupidly lusted over in high school. When he took me to my Cotillion, he treated me like a princess and I thought he was my prince charming. While there were times his explosive behavior made me question his nature, I pushed it aside and tried to see the best in him.
 

On the day of my eighteenth birthday, the night of my graduation, I quickly discovered that there was nothing good about Gregory Mitchum.

“In a few years,” he began, wearing a prideful smile, “I’m going to run for city council. I’m doing my time, working in a law firm, building up my contacts. I can take you to all the places you wanted to go. You don’t have to rely on your parents. Just stop…” He reached out to touch me. I backed away. In response, he lunged forward, forcing me into his arms. “…ignoring me.”

Bile rose in my throat, choking me and making it difficult to speak.

“You know I’ll never give up until you’re by my side. I love you.”

“Love?” I questioned, my voice quiet and hoarse, expressing my incredulity toward what he considered as love. “Is that what you call what you did to me?”

“I had to teach you a lesson. Lesson learned, right? It’s been too long, Keaton. I’m done waiting your anger out. I need you. I want you, and I’m going to have you.”

I struggled only to have him hold me so tightly I couldn’t breathe.
 

He leaned down with his ragged breath fluttering against my forehead. “I could fuck you on this terrace with or without your permission and not a damn person would stop me. Think about that, hmm?” The sinister quality to his voice returned in full force. He secured my wrists in one of his hands, pinning them behind my back. “Have you kept your pussy untouched and wet for me like I told you to?”