Less than Perfect by S. J. Evans (love letters to the dead txt) 📕

—me! I’m not just another little play thing you can mess around with, Johnny! I’m not

Scarlett—no matter how much I may remind you of her—and you have no right to put your filthy, disgusting

hands on me! You’re even sicker that I thought if you think that what you’re doing is perfectly okay. Because it’s not okay, Johnny—nothing

is with you. You’re a monster, just like your father was.”
He’d sat up, taken his hands away from her, and was now staring at her, face contorted in a mask of uncertainty. Skye’s heart stopped when she realized what she’d just done, utterly horrified and shocked with herself. She couldn’t believe she’d snapped at him; she’d tried so hard to be careful. I have to fix this, before he loses it.

But before she could do or say anything else, he got off the bed, told her she shouldn’t have said what she’d said, and left the room, leaving her with nothing but an intoxicating fear of the unknown.

RACHEL’S SWOLLEN BACK was throbbing with unbearable pain when she came to. The dark, dirty room of the basement provided little light, and she could hardly put together what had happened. The only thing she clearly remembered was the feeling of horrific pain as something had whipped across her back, breaking the skin. Everything else seemed to blur into one crowded mess.
Tentatively, she pressed her palms into the mattress and tried to push herself into an upright position. But the pain soon became too much and she fell back against the bed in exhaustion. A whimper trembled from her lips as she closed her eyes, about to give in to the exhaustion. Her body was shutting itself down again, and if she didn’t do something soon, she could end up stuck in the basement, without treatment and help, for days.
Vaguely, in the haze of her clouded mind, she thought of her cell phone, remembering how Johnny had left it on one of the tabletops. She looked around the room, careful not to put too much strain on her aching back, and found it atop a desk a few feet away.
Wincing from the pain that plagued her drowning body, she managed to crawl off the bed and near the desk, desperate to find a way out. She reached up and grasped the phone in her hand, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. “Safety,” she whimpered. “Finally.”
She dialed 911

as quickly as she could and waited for an answer, collapsing onto the floor. The room spun when she opened her eyes, spotted with black specks. When the operator came onto the line, she murmured a weak, “Please help. I’m in the basement of an old, abandoned house on Burk Drive. He took me, and I think he might have Skye now. Please hurry.”
And before she could say anything else, darkness wrapped her in its haunting clutches, stealing her away.

VICTOR’S HEART WAS beating a mile a minute. He was having a hard time accepting the news that not only had Rachel been caught up in Johnny’s psychotic schemes, but that Skye had also been taken—by the same sadistic man that kept trying to ruin her. He didn’t want it to be true. He wanted to believe that it was all just a nightmare.
But sitting in the hospital, waiting for information about exactly what had happened, made it all too real. Rachel was lying unconscious in a hospital room, and Skye was in life-threatening danger—a reality all too disturbing.
Sitting there doing nothing while the doctor’s and officer’s hustled around for answers, made him feel sick to his stomach, and he wished there was something he could do to help. He felt guilty doing nothing, even though the Sheriff and Rachel’s doctor had told him there was nothing more he could do but wait—for now.
He sighed, heavily. His head throbbed, heart ached, and body trembled, exhaustion weighing down on his body. The only thing that was keeping him awake was his need for information.
“How is she doing?”
At the sound of Jules’s drained voice, Victor startled, snapping his head up. When he caught his friend’s haggard gaze, he shrugged, gestured to the seat next to him. “They haven’t told me anything more than she’ll be okay.”
“Have you seen her?” Jules asked, dropping into the seat across from Victor. “You were there when they picked her up, right?”
“Yes,” he croaked, voice straggled. “She looked miserable. There were bruises and cuts all over her body, and when I held her hand she didn’t respond at all.” A sob shook his body. “She looked as if she was merely hanging on by a thread.”
Jules’s face screwed up, eyes sad. “But she’s going to be okay? She’ll make it?”
“That’s what they say.”
“Then she will be,” Jules said, reaching over and putting a reassuring hand on Victor’s shoulder. “She’s going to be just fine.”
“I sure hope so.” Victor tried to smile but couldn’t pull it off, burdened by an overwhelming feeling of guilt. “I’m really sorry about what happened earlier. I know an apology can’t help too much, but I really am sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
Jules seemed to take in his words for a moment, watching the floor. “It’s okay, Vic.” He looked up, a small hint of a smile on his lips. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and I’m sorry I reacted so strongly. How about we just forget about it, okay? Skye needs us right now.”
“Right.” Victor pressed his hands against his face, fighting off exhaustion. “Have you heard anything about her?”
Jules frowned. “No. Not yet.”
Victor’s heart missed a beat. “I’m sure they’ll have something soon,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “They have to.”
“Victor Knight and Jules Rane?” a deep voice called out to them, forcing them both to look in the direction of the entrance. An officer stood at the doors, holding a box in his hands. “Show yourselves if you can hear me.”
“Over here,” Jules said, and stood up. “What is it, Officer?”
Victor stood as well when the officer approached them, nerves on high alert. “Do you have information on Skye’s whereabouts?”
The officer shook his head. “But that’s where we could use your boys’ help.” He held up the box, opened it, and pulled out a cell phone, holding it in front of their faces. “Is this Skylar’s?”
Jules’s brows furrowed, his face scrunched up in a mask of what Victor could only read as sheer horror. “Yes, sir, that belongs to Skye.”
“Good,” the officer said, and set it back down in the box. “We are going to do everything we can to locate Skylar, but we’re going to need your help. Leah Richmond is at her house right now, talking to the Sheriff, and he’d like for you both to join them. With all of your input, we should be able to locate the girl. We know she sneaked out to meet Johnny Richmond at that abandoned home, and that he took her, but there’s also more.” He cleared his throat, hesitant to meet the boys’ gazes. “According to Rachel Harper, Johnny planned on getting out of the country by four o’clock this morning, which makes it’s even more crucial that we find them both—very soon.” He nodded to the parking lot. “Come with me, please.”
Victor’s blood turned to ice.
They had less than two hours to find Skye, before she was taken away from them forever—trapped in Johnny’s tormenting clutches.

THE WAITING WAS AGONIZING. Waiting for Johnny to come back, most likely prepared to do things Skye couldn’t even bring herself to think about, drove her into a state of desperation. Her heart raced uncontrollably, while her conscious struggled to keep herself calm. Stay strong. Don’t let him get to you. He likes to see you afraid; don’t give him the satisfaction.

But all too soon, the doorknob rattled, breaking down her resolve. She jumped at the sound of the door hitting the wall, Johnny’s familiar presence all too real. “Hello, Princess,” he cooed, sounding much too calm for Skye’s liking. “Did you miss me?”
“What are you going to do with me, Johnny?” she asked, hesitant. Fear had crept into her voice and she tried to focus all of her energy towards staying calm. No fear. He likes it.

“I’m going to have a little fun,” he drawled, and started to approach her. “You may not like it, but that doesn’t really make a difference to me. I’ve waited for you to respect me long enough, and now—since you’ve proven to not give a damn about respect—I’m going to show you the consequences. I’m going to make you wish you’d never said a word.”
She shook her head, sucked in a breath. “No—wait—” she stammered, swallowing a lump of fear in her throat. “I didn’t mean to say what did. I-I’m sorry, Johnny. Please, I didn’t mean it. Don’t

do this.”
He chuckled and pushed himself on top of her on the bed, straddling her waist. He pulled her blouse away from her body and bent over, leaning in for a quick kiss. “It’s too late, Skylar. You don’t get any more second chances. I’ve had enough of this generosity. It’s about time you learn

to respect me.”
His hands traveled down to her jeans, ripping off the belt and yanking the jeans down in one quick movement. She whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please—Johnny, don’t.”
He chuckled again, and gripped onto her sides, bending down and trailing his tongue up her skin. His lips met up with her collarbone and pressed down on the sensitive skin, causing another whimper to escape her lips. He nipped at the skin.
Skye let out a straggled cry. “Stop—please!”
He nuzzled his face in her neck before moving to her ear and whispering, “I’ve waited so long for this moment. I’m not turning back now.”
All of her hope faded at the sound of those words, breaking her down little by little. “Please—don’t.”
He pressed a finger against her lips, saying, “Shh, don’t worry, sweetheart—it’ll be okay. I’ll be careful not to hurt you too badly.”
She gagged, utterly disgusted. She couldn’t stand what he was doing; she desperately wanted him to stop—more than she ever had before. But there was no way out this time. There was no hope. Johnny had her secure in his