I buried my face into the warm curve of his neck, the scent of cedar wrapping around me.
My hands clung tightly to his shirt, made of finely woven fabric, my nails almost piercing through it.
"Don't be scared."
Hebert's voice came from above me. It was low, gravelly, and steeped in barely-held restraint.
"I'm here. I'll take you home, Ashley."
That one line hit me like a surge of electricity, stripping away every layer of composure I had painstakingly built.
When that disgusting thug insulted me with vile words, I didn't shed a tear.
Even when he tore my dress apart and shoved me to the rough, gritty dirt, I refused to cry.
I forced myself to raise every thorn the world had left me, fighting back with venomous words, searching desperately for any chance of escape.
