Not wanting to dwell on it, I reach behind me and unhook the expensive lace bra and let it fall to the ground only to see the bruises across my breasts, each of them in the shape of a man’s finger.
I look away, unable to handle the sight of myself, and step into the shower. The cold water rains down over me and it’s like being hit by a wrecking ball, the memories of the cold buckets of water being thrown over me something I will never forget.
The emotions hit me hard and I sink to the floor of the shower, curling into a ball and crying, the sobs pulling violently from deep within my throat. My head drops to my knees and that’s exactly where I stay for the next hour until the exhaustion claims me and the sobs finally ease.
I get to my feet and scrub myself until my skin is red and raw, desperately trying to rid myself of the memories. I start on my hair, washing it once, then twice, and go as far as washing it a third time before rinsing the conditioner through it.
By the time I turn off the taps, my eyes are red and puffy, and my body is completely exhausted. It’s got to be well past four in the morning but I don’t think that sleep will be coming to me for a while.
I grab a towel off the heated towel rack and quickly dry my hair before wrapping the soft material tightly around my body. I find myself stopping to look at my reflection in the mirror, and while the girl looking back at me certainly looks a lot like me, she doesn’t feel like me. This girl is weak. This girl allowed hell to be brought down on her and she wasn’t strong enough to fight back. That’s not the girl I’ve always prided myself on being. This girl who stares back at me; she’s pathetic.
Anger seeps through me and I turn around to exit the bathroom, unable to stand the sight of myself. But as I turn into Carver’s spare bedroom and find nothing but darkness, fear begins replacing the anger.
My eyes dart around the room, expecting to find a hidden shadow, ready to jump out at me. I take a few calming breaths before dashing across the room and slamming my hand down over the light switch.
Brightness floods the room, and I flip around, my back pressed up against the door as my sharp gaze sweeps across the room, checking every little corner until I’m satisfied that I’m completely alone.
My heart races and the humiliation hits me like a freight train.
This isn’t me.
Letting out a sigh, I try to remember who I really am, and after locking the door, I walk back across the room to find the set of clothes Carver had promised to leave for me, sat right beside a bottle of water. I grab it and instantly take a sip, desperately trying to soothe my sore throat. I get halfway through the bottle before I start to slow down and focus on getting dressed. I take the soft cotton shirt between my fingers and I slip it over my head. I smell Carver all over it and something settles within me, making me wonder when the hell he became my safety net.
The shirt falls to my knees and I tug the towel off from underneath before dragging the grey sweatpants up my bruised legs and pulling the drawstring as tight as it’ll go.
Needing to leave the light on, I settle into the soft bed and stare up at the ceiling. Exhaustion rests heavily against my chest, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t close my eyes.
Desperately needing sleep, I throw the blankets back and make my way out of the spare bedroom. I walk down the hall, trying to keep quiet, more than aware that the boys are probably sound asleep in the rooms around me while being thankful that the hallway lights are shining brightly.
I find a familiar door and silently push it open to find Carver sitting up in bed, his back resting against the headboard, and from the looks of it, he’s been struggling to sleep just as much as I have. Despite knowing that he now owns me, I can’t help but need him, which only serves to confuse me more because outside of this room, I don’t want a damn thing to do with him.
Carver watches me for a long moment and then without a word, he pulls back the blankets and offers me the space beside him. I look at it longingly, desperately wishing I could be the girl who succumbs to her needs, but then I realize that sometimes taking exactly what you need isn’t considered weak, it’s called basic human survival. Without another second of hesitation, I cross his room and slip in between the sheets.