Page 11 of Owning Olivia

“Listen to me, Olivia. You listen good. I’m not playing games with you. We are leaving,” Silas hollered, his voice thick and enraged.

“How do I know you won’t hurt him? I’m supposed to just take your world? You talk about what a monster he is, but newsflash, Silas, you just traded me for a three year old debt. So what does that make you?” I was angry. I was scared. And by the look in Silas’ eyes in that moment, I was stupid too.

“Listen to me, little girl. If I give you my word, that should be enough for you. I’ve been there for you throughout the last year. I’ve made sure you were safe and taken care of. I take care of you. You may have forgotten that because everyone you deal with is trash, but what separates me from them is that I won’t rape you, I won’t touch a hair on you head if you don’t want me to, and if I give you my word, I will keep it.” His voice was calm and measured.

Taken care of me? Sure, Silas watched out for me, but I’d always taken care of myself.

He leaned in and grabbed my seatbelt pulled it across me, as he did so, he brushed my breast with his knuckle, and to my shock I felt my nipple peak—something his gaze didn’t miss.

“Looks like you don’t despise me as much as you pretend to.” He buckled me in and got out of the back seat and into the driver’s seat.

“We’re going home. Olivia, you don’t belong here.”



The ride back was quiet. The silence was an unwelcome visitor. Without distractions from outside, I had to look within and that was a prison I’d been trying to run from my entire life. My mind kept roaming back to Olivia’s words. She actually thought I was in the same league as those scumbags Paul kept around. I guess from her vantage point, I wasn’t much different. She thought I was just another scary criminal, but I foolishly thought she would see more. I was an idiot, this wasn’t a fairytale where I rescue the damsel and all of a sudden she sees the man behind the beast. It was my idea of Olivia that was a mirage—a fairy tale. I was drowning in desire for her and the image of her I kept in my head was my salvation, and I would have done anything to keep that illusion alive. All this past year while I took care of her, made sure she had everything she could possibly need, made sure she wasn’t touched, she never once questioned where the random money and groceries came from. Like some schmuck who stumbled in drunk would actually have an extra fifty to lose? She was blissfully unaware of the lengths I’d gone to. If it wasn’t for Paul’s fear of me, he would have continued to abuse her, hurt her, and God knows what else could have happened to her. Drug addicts are the worst kind of monsters. Once their addiction takes a hold, it slowly kills the humanity leaving behind only desperate husks. I knew better than most, the kind of misery a junkie was capable of unleashing.

I sheltered her from danger for years and just ten minutes of rage, which I felt for her sake, has now made her scared of me.

When we arrived at the house, exhaustion set in. I hadn’t felt that kind of anger in a long time. It overwhelmed me and brought me back to a bad place, like I was drowning in the abyss surrounded by darkness, but starving for light. The idea of her being harmed had become my worst fear, my need for her safety was all consuming. She fucking set off that instinct in me. All those years of working to keep the monster at bay, always using logic instead of violence, just instantly disappeared because of one tiny woman. One sweet girl who undid me in ways I apparently had no control over.

I parked the car out front and hung my head on the steering wheel. When I pulled my head back up, I saw the dark brown color caked onto my knuckles. It was everywhere. Blood was even smeared on the steering wheel. Fuck. No wonder she was so horrified. This was on me. I didn’t stop for one second to think how this would make me look or how it would make her feel. I just wanted to hurt the man who wanted to hurt what was mine. I was scary on purpose most of the time so that everyone knew not to fuck with me, but apparently, I’d forgotten how to turn it off. I was acting that way to keep her safe. She hadn’t been mine to protect, but I did it anyway. Now she finally was, and I wasn’t doing either one of us any favors by losing my temper—nearly losing my mind.