Had he noticed? He seemed so out of it?
I yearned to wrap my arms around him and somehow soak in some of his pain. Give him a lighter weight to bear on his shoulders. Ease his burdens. Heal him somehow.
That when I tried to move, my body followed but my wrist remained still. A sharp sting radiated from the spot where the smooth metal cuff rested against the bones in my wrist.
Then I remembered that Cain wasn’t my lover.
He was my captor. This wasn’t some fairytale about love. I was handcuffed to a bed, half-naked, and trapped. For me, there were small options for freedom and they all ended with death.
I’d come close to forgetting that, so ready to comfort Cain in his moment of weakness.
Why can’t I stop. . .wanting to. . .like him?
I looked at my reflection in the mirror, hoping the answer would be in my eyes. The only thing that caught my sight was the bandage on my new scars.
Movement sounded behind me.
I looked in the mirror and saw Cain watching me. His huge frame took up the whole doorway. Darkness filled his eyes, yet desperation moved over his face, causing me to ache and fear him at the same time.
Rage pulsed in my veins.
It made me mad that I liked him. That I cared about him. That I hoped I could heal him, yet escape him too. Life was hard enough. Humans were already so complicated. But, I still hated that I couldn’t make sense of this situation.
I need to be harder on the inside. More walls. More guarded.
I pulled off my shirt and dropped it to the floor. Cool air brushed against my bare skin.
A groan left Cain.
I checked the mirror.
He remained blocking the doorway. Desire blazed in his eyes.
Cain now towered and loomed behind me. Smooth skin over muscle. Massive arms looking like they could reach around a few houses and lift them out of the ground. His huge chest and shoulders looked as if they could bear any burden.
But now I knew that wasn’t true.
There was something within him, weighing him down. Making him scream.
I returned my view back to the bandage. It was thick strips of gauze, covering my whole left collarbone and several inches below. Some sort of white medical tape held it in place.
I raised my hand and touched it. The white bandage was soft against my skin. I gently pressed the center. Small brownish spots stained the surface.
What does it look like?
I moved my hands to the edge and pulled up the tape.
Cain’s voice boomed from the doorway. “Don’t touch it. The wounds need time to heal.”
That made me mad. It was my body. I could do what I wanted with it.
Ignore him.
I slowly peeled the tape and bandage away, not caring what Cain would do to me. I just needed to see the scars in the mirror.
When he’d cut me two nights ago, there’d only been moonlight and fear.
What will I see?
Cain’s footsteps sounded behind me.
I lifted the tape quickly, letting it fall around me. I moved the gauze next and lay it on the sink. Face up, the gauze was brown with red, yellow, and deep pink streaks. The scent of my blood lingered in the air.
I still didn’t have the courage to look at the scars and kept my gaze on the gauze.
Cain’s presence surrounded me. “Does it hurt?”
I lifted my view to the mirror’s reflection
My breath caught in my chest.
Each thick, bloodied letter stood out against my brown skin, almost seeming to be alive and staring back at me. The bottom of the C was larger than the top. The point in the A was jagged while the I was a harsh slant. Rough and raw.
But, the N had perfect, delicate lines. A little blood trickled down from the letter’s corners.
I gazed at it. “Why is this letter perfect, compared to the other letters?”
“You. . .participated.”
“I did not.”
“Your eyes were open for that letter. You were watching. For some reason, that made my hand steady.” Cain inhaled me. “Why did you take the bandage off?”
“Because I wanted to see what was underneath.” I watched the tiny red liquid trail dripping down to my breasts and stopping at my nipple. “Should the scars still be bleeding?”
“Blood helps clean wounds, so a little bleeding is good.”
“How?”
“The blood vessels can open a bit to allow fresh nutrients and oxygen into the wound for healing.”
In an utter daze, I returned my gaze to the bloody letters. Cain had carved them into my flesh and all I could wonder is if he would write more. How much further would he go?
His dark voice slipped over my skin. “What do you think?”
“That this is insane.”
“Perhaps, it is.”
“There’s no perhaps about it.” I reached my hand to touch the C.
Cain caught my hand and pulled it down to my side. “You can infect them.”