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“They told me your back needed attention?” His question was soft, as if he was trying not to alarm me.
Too late. A whole mess of emotions had tumbled down on me – anger, dismay, shame, fear. These feelings, it was all him, all his doing. Yet he looked so normal. I hated that.
He’d raped me. At their demand, but he had. The first time, I’d understood. This last time, he’d gotten inside my head and fucked around with it too. But I wasn’t showing him, this stranger, any of that turmoil.
Stonewall him. Make it a yesterday thing, or a future thing. It wasn’t now.
I grunted, got halfway through a shrug, then winced and thought better of it. “I’m okay.”
“Show me.”
Fuckitty. I frowned. Admitting anything to him might be a mistake, but I couldn’t be completely silent.
I repeated my idea, hoping to convince him. “What happened yesterday stays in that room. Here, now, it’s gone.”
“Yes. Now show me your back.”
“Gregor looked already.” I figured I’d let him look tomorrow. Or never. Now was definitely too soon to let him near me. My skin crawled at the idea.
“Do I have to go through this again? I need to know what it’s like so I can tell if it gets worse. If you don’t let me see it, Gregor may hurt you. I’m not having that on my conscience.”
I scoffed, laughing. “You have one?”
His stare was direct.
He’d agreed with me, though, and smoothly. He’d said yes. Like the room had meant nothing to him. How could anyone think of what we’d done as nothing? Like raping me was nothing? Emotions pecked and pecked at me. I felt bloody and ragged and raw.
Why should I care what he thought of me?
Forget it. Forget. It was yesterday, remember?
I was being irrational. Tears threatened to squeeze from my eyes.
“I can see you’re a bit scared of me. That’s sensible. But I still need to see your back.”
“Scared?” I snort-laughed, dismissing that notion, but when he took a step nearer, I flinched. My body knew what his hands could do.
He held out his palms. “You know I want to help you. Please.”
Obviously he thought he was still on high moral ground. Just because they’d told him to do it. I wasn’t sure of that anymore. He’d liked what he did to me too much.
My body was so tight; the slightest breeze might crack me. “How...can you be so fucking calm?”
Don’t swear. It made me look stupid. Fragile.
His brow wrinkled. “Training. Experience. You had a severely traumatic day. You see me as the person who did it, but I’m not guilty. Think it through.”
I had. I’d seen a fire blazing in his eyes when he beat me. He’d taken off that blindfold just to say he liked it. He’d fucking told me that.
Swearing in my head was okay, I decided. Just not at him.
He’d liked mind fucking me as well as fucking me, but I wasn’t telling him I’d noticed that. He might use it as ammunition...next time.
Calm down. Be like him. Visible unhappiness is a weakness. Assume he’s an enemy but act nice. I could do that because, after all, that was the sum of my whole life. Laugh, smile, and inside be like a prison guarded by walls topped with spikes with the heads of your enemies stuck on them.
I glowered then I smoothed that away. Firm but nice.
“You’re not seeing my back.”
