Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (librera reader .TXT) 📖

kind of danger. “I know,” she lied. And trying to lighten the mood a little bit, to push away the darkness, she added, “Can we maybe have a rain check on tonight? It sort of went up in flames.”
He laughed nervously, pulled her hand in his. “I’d like that,” he agreed. “But maybe we can wait a little while. Take things slow. It’ll be better that way.” He pulled her into him, and she let him, wanting to feel him around her for what she knew could be the last time.
“Of course it will,” she sighed, overwhelmed with grief. “Goodnight, Jules.”
“Goodnight, Trouble.” He hugged her, kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”
Knowing that she had very little time left with him, she curled as far into him as possible, felt the smooth of his skin against hers, heard the beat of his heart, and wished she had more time. More time to be with him. More time to avoid the darkness of night, and the troubles it holds.
More time to say goodbye.

Trapped

Disgust pulsed through Johnny’s veins, boiling uncontrollable anger and hatred. He lashed out at Rachel, slapping her with enough force to drive the chair to the ground. “What the hell

was that, Rachel?” he growled, teeth clenched. “Did I not make myself clear before? I told you not to cross me!”
Heartbeat pulsing in his ears, he slammed his foot into the fallen chair, drove it into the ruff, splintered wooden flooring. He cursed, grumbling under his breath, sickened with the girl’s crying. He hated the crying; it was only acceptable when it came from his Princess

.
“Be quiet!” His voice cracked. He was losing control, much too quickly. Despite the fact that he knew Skye would save her friend no matter what, and he’d have her in his possession soon, he was upset. Rachel had betrayed him, lied to him. She deserved to be punished. Bending down in front of her, he started to undo her bonds, roughly.
Her cries turned into whimpers, her body coiling away from his wrath—and his touch. “W-What are you doing, J-Johnny?” she croaked, drawing away from him. “I-I’m sorry. I-I just want her to be safe.”
He scoffed. “You should have listened to me then.” His fingers brushed her soft, dirt covered skin as he took off the second restraint. He held her other hand firmly in his, keeping her close. He could feel her fear, seeping into him. And when he looked into her eyes for a brief moment, before going back to his work, he saw just that, mixed with the pain he could only imagine she was feeling.
“Don’t

fight me.” He gripped both her wrists in one of his hands, while the other tugged on her hair, inflicting another whimper in response. He put his lips by her ears, whispering, “You make one wrong move, and I’ll make you wish you were dead. More than I already am going to.”
From the way she flinched at his words he could tell he’d gotten the point across. If she disobeyed him again, he’d be sure to make her never forget it. “Now come.” He dragged her to her feet, her legs shaking and breath catching as he did so. Sobs trembled from her lips as he brought her down into the basement, yanking on her wrists hard enough to leave horrendous bruises in the wake.
He dragged her into the bedroom, tossed her onto the bed, and tried to gain back his composure. He needed it for what he was about to do.
She was in his game now.
And if she didn’t follow the rules . . . game over.
“Lie down,” he ordered her. She snapped her head up to him, eyes wide, brows narrowed in miserable confusion. “Lie down on your stomach and keep your hands where I can see them. Now

.”
Slowly, she made her way onto her stomach, hands shaking on the mattress beside her. Johnny smiled, happy with her cooperation. His heartbeat sped when he picked up some rope from the floor, carried it over to the head of the bed, and—with his free hand—tugged her wrists towards the bedframe. He tied her wrists to it, tightly, before pulling her face in his hands, brushing a tear off her cheek, and saying, “I hate to hurt such a pretty face, but you didn’t listen. You put yourself here, Rachel, just remember that.”
“Please, don’t do this,” she whispered, trembling. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to protect my friend. Please

don’t do anything more.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, as genuinely as he could. “I really wish I didn’t have to do this. But you need to be punished for crossing me. I told you there’d be awful consequences.”
“No,” she whimpered. “No, please

.”
He let go of her, turned away. He couldn’t bear to look at her pleading, desperate gaze anymore. It was driving him to feel things he couldn’t let himself feel. He couldn’t be weak.
As he walked around to the other side of the bed, he shook his head, forcing himself to turn off his emotions. If he let himself fall into Rachel’s emotional pull, he’d easily lose himself at the thought of Skye. And he couldn’t lose. He had to take control.
Crawling onto the bed beside Rachel, he smiled at the way she tried to evade him, and at the way her attempts at escape failed so miserably. He pushed her hair to the sides, and then trailed his hands down her sides. He could feel her freeze and tense up, sensing her thoughts and fears, feeding off them.
A chuckle escaped his lips when she shivered, knowing exactly what she was thinking. His hands stopped at the hem of her shirt. Ever so slowly, tauntingly, he rolled up her shirt until the majority of her back was exposed. He smiled in satisfaction, noting how smooth and perfect the skin looked.
It won’t look that good for long

, he thought, sharing a secret with himself. Too bad for her she had to go and speak without being spoken to.

Sitting up, he unclasped his belt buckle, began to remove it. Rachel sobbed, the sound of it muffled from the mattress she hid her face in. He chuckled, crawling over her and slipping off the bed, belt in hand.
Tentatively, she turned to look at him, tears leaving tracks down her face. It only took her a moment, watching Johnny play with the belt, for realization to grace her features. She shook her head, whimpering. “Please don’t. Johnny, please.”
“Don’t worry,” he cooed. “At least it’s not going to kill you.” A grin spread across his face. “It’s just going to hurt—a lot

.”
As soon as his belt came in harsh contact with her flesh, a scream ricocheted off the musky walls, filling the room with the shrill awakening of aggressive pain.
He let out a harsh breath, positioned for another blow. “How does that feel? Terrible? Because I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but it’s going to get a lot worse. That was just a little preview.”
After the second blow, he showed no mercy.

NESTLED IN JULES’S warm arms, Skye tried to pull her thoughts together. She had twenty minutes left before she had to face her fears. Twenty minutes before her entire world could crash and burn. Twenty minutes before she disappeared from Jules’s life forever. And less than ten

before she had to leave him, the only boy she’d ever truly loved.
Fighting the painful sobs that bubbled up inside, she blinked her teary eyes, let out a shaky breath, gave Jules one last, tender kiss, and whispered, “Please forgive me, Jules. I love you so much.”
Her heart dropped when a smile graced his face, tearing her apart with his precious, unforgettable charm. She longed to stay with him, hold him, kiss

him, but knew it couldn’t happen; there was too much to lose.
Without wasting another second, she untangled herself from his arms, tip-toed downstairs, and sneaked out of the house, leaving behind only her memory for those she loved so dearly. She hurried down the quiet, vacant streets, desperately hoping Johnny would keep his word and not do anything rash before midnight.
Her heart raced, and her head throbbed with pent-up pressure, causing everything to blur out of focus around her. The streetlights became too bright, and the world spun. She was starting to lose herself to the weight of sleep deprivation.
Determined not to let it slow her down, she stumbled into a jog, hurrying towards Bryan’s old house. No matter how hard it became to see and keep her own footing, she continued to push herself forward, afraid that if she gave up she’d never see her best friend again. And that was the last

thing that she wanted to happen.
When she managed to stumble into Bryan’s old yard, her heart was beating a mile a minute, her head felt like lead, and her vision was trapped in an eerie mask of fog. She collapsed on the cold, damp grass, legs too weak to support her any longer. She whimpered, trapped in a haze, desperately trying to figure out what she could do next.
A faint crying woke her from her stupor, perking up her drained subconscious. Crawling into a standing position, she blinked a few times in a vain attempt at trying to clear her mind, and took a few deep breaths. Her legs shook as she stumbled over to the side of the house, using the wall for support. When she came to a window, she tried to take a peek inside but found nothing of any interest to her, just a heavy drape guarding the inside.
Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a muffled voice coming from inside—the sound of someone in dire need of help. Rachel

. Desperate, she found her way to the front door, shoved her way inside, and tumbled onto the hardwood floor, winded. She winced at the pain that shot up her arm, like an electric current jolting her system. Spots speckled her vision for a moment before she blinked them away, fighting the urge to cry.
She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and couldn’t seem to grasp onto any solid facts. Both her mind and body were shutting down, distressed, and all she wanted to do was go back home, curl up, and cry herself to sleep.
But she couldn’t do that; she had to