This Girl Stripped Read Online Free PDF Page A

here?
    Dear God. Is this my punishment?

    “Paisley, open up.” River knocks on my door again as lie in a fetal position in the center of my bed. The knocking continues as River talks through the door. “If you don't open it, I’m going to break the fuckin' thing down, Paisley!” Go ahead, break it down. What do I care?
    A key rattles in the lock and the door pops open. River slips into the room before closing the door and securing the lock back in place. The damage is done already though. I can't move. I can't think of anything other than waking up bruised and bloody in my hotel room after that monster brutalized me. The man with the same beautiful green eyes I’d pathetically fallen for just a few days before. How could my feelings be so fucked up and scattered all over the place?
    I’m so not up for dealing with this shit. I’m too broken. Too spent.
    “Paisley, talk to me.” River's voice echoes through the emptiness of the impersonal bedroom, but all I can do is continue to lie on the bed, curled up in a ball trying to protect myself. Memory after memory floods through me like a black and white movie reel. A film strip of the attack. His fist hitting my face, his hand on my throat. I don't realize it, but I am struggling for air as I cry into the comforter. My body convulses and I grip myself tighter.
    The bed dips down behind me and strong, tattooed arms wrap around my back, pulling me against his chest. I want to push him away, but his arms comfort me. His touch should disgust me. But it doesn't. I feel safe for the first time in a really long time.
    “He... he...” I can't get the words out. I try to talk but the only word my mouth can spit out is he . As in Zane. The nasty biker lurking around here somewhere. The grip around me tightens.
    “Shhh... it's okay, Paisley”
    For the longest time I just lay there in the safe arms of a stranger. Someone I never met until yesterday and the only person I can run to. My breathing eventually evens out once I have no tears left. I just lie in his arms and soak in his scent. It reminds me of cologne my high school boyfriend wore, but better. So much better on him - musk with pine trees … Christmas. That’s what it reminds me of: Fucking Christmas.
    I slowly pull myself from his embrace and I instantly feel lonely and afraid of what the rest of my day holds. I want to tell him, but I don't know exactly what I can tell him. Who is Zane to him and why is he here for Thanksgiving?
    “River, he hurt me.” I want to give him all the details, but sadly I don't even know most of it. I know the hurt. I know the morning after and every last minute leading up to when I passed out. His body tenses, his back goes ramrod straight and I don't want to say another word.
    “How do you know Zane?” I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I barely knew his fucking name. I sit up on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest and recall the small details I can remember of everything that led up to the assault .
    “I ran out of money in Florida. I was going to get kicked out of the motel I was living in, so I decided I could make some money stripping.” I don't look at him, because I know he’ll be disappointed just like anyone else would be if I had the balls to tell them my tale. I’m sure most of them would agree that I deserved exactly what I got. I don’t want him to be disgusted by me, even though I know that’s what’s going to happen as I continue to speak.
    “He bought a couple lap dances and at the end of the night, he offered me a ride home. I shouldn't have taken it, I’m stupid.” I chew on the corner of my bottom lip, a nervous habit of mine and continue to look everywhere but at River; the friendly ear I desperately need right this minute. I have no one else. I have no outlet. Fuck I need a therapist or some shit.
    “Then he hurt you.” His words aren't a question; they are an emotionally charged statement. I can see his bright eyes going dark, almost black