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“I don’t need that. I don’t need mini versions of myself running around the place causing havoc. I don’t need anyone else. Just you.” His forehead pressed into mine. “In truth, I wouldn’t be able to give you one, either. My shitty childhood caused me to get a vasectomy at nineteen. We only need each other.”
The slow bob of my head brought another question to his lips. “Tell me what happened?”
“I don’t remember. But I know there was a baby that was taken out prematurely. Because Rothbart would joke about how the only child I’d ever have was one I’d never get to see again.”
Remi froze under the water. Its heat was the only thing to keep either of us warm.
“Did he ever tell you what happened to that child?”
“No.” The word was almost silent. “I can’t talk anymore about that, and I don’t want to talk about my body, either.”
Understanding passed between us in a gentle glance. His thumbpad moved over my lips as they parted to take a deep breath.
“That’s fine.” Both of his hands guided my face to his. “I won’t push you on this. But know this, my girl, you are not ugly. You are fucking perfect. A true survivor, an inspiration to so many who would want to give up. But not you. Don’t believe a word they fucking said. You have the most beautiful soul, and it shines through and brings light to anyone lucky enough to be around you. Seeing you again once, just once, I knew I’d never be able to live without you again. I don’t know how you survived all that, but I’m so fucking grateful you did. You’ve gone through so much, yet you can still smile because you see the light in the darkest places. Like in my soul.”
His joke at the end didn’t succeed in lifting my mood. It barely lifted my lips.
“Those freaks, their words are meaningless to you, and if you don’t believe that, my God, you will soon enough. And I swear to you, that cunt will pay for every single time he has put his hands near you, never mind on you. Just like his sons. Just like his disgusting wife, who was likely pig food last night. Don’t let them keep any power over you by letting their hateful voices stay in your head.”
“My body is an issue for me. Because of them. They made me worthless.”
“No. They did not. You are priceless. Absolutely fucking priceless.”
“My body—”
“Your body is perfect—”
“It’s scarred and uneven and full of painful reminders.”
“That I can hide if you need me to. But each scar should only remind you how strong you are. How much you survived. Can I look? Just at a few?”
With shaking hands, I pulled the tank higher.
“What was this, a rope burn?” His fingers skimmed a barely noticeable scar at the front of my neck.
“I don’t remember.”
“What about this?” His hand gently moved to a cluster of scars resembling dog teeth running up my leg.
“I assume I was bitten, too.”
“By those mutts?”
“By the dogs, who had been tortured, just like me.”
Perfect teeth sunk into his lip, holding the anger inside. Releasing the hold, he asked, “This one?”
“I remember that one,” I said of a tiny scar sitting on my hip. “It was Rothbart’s blade. It was small originally but made worse because a few days later, when it was healing, he made one of the other girls pick off the scab and eat it, and she did because we’d been starved for days.”
Remi couldn’t ask about the next scar he looked to—the giant one across my lower abdomen. He already knew the reason for it. And he was utterly fuming and struggling to hide it.
“It’s probably good you’ve gone quiet because we aren’t addressing that one or what’s beneath the tank. I don’t look like everyone else, and it hurts me that I’m different, inside and out.”
“Cat, different doesn’t mean wrong, and it doesn’t mean imperfect. Through my eyes, nothing, no one, will ever come close to you.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be with someone who has confidence in their body and not someone who is gonna hide half of themselves away from you?”
“That won’t be happening, Dream. Forgive me.”
