Page 24 of Beautiful Scars

His hands are all over me.

I thought I wanted this, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t know where I am. I’m scared. Why won’t he let me go? I’m yelling at him, yelling at him to let me go.

“What does he do when you ask him to let you go?”

I…I walk into something, I think.

“What did you walk into?”

I don’t know. It’s too dark. I can’t see. No, wait. Hehitme. Oh, fuck, he just hit me!

I can’t get up. I have to, but I can’t get up.

“Meisie, stop screaming.” But that’s not my shrink’s voice. It’s a man’s voice. Deep, rough, commanding.

Cillian.

He’s holding me down on the bed. No, not holding me down. Thick leather straps are holding me down. He’s tied me to the bed in the red room I just woke up in.

A scream rips out of my throat. “No!”

He grits his teeth, both hands pressing down on my belly to keep me on the bed as I start writhing and twisting against the straps.

“Please, Alex, please. Let me go. I want to leave. Alex, please!”

“Who the fuck is Alex?” Cillian barks out. “Can you even hear me? Meisie, I’m not Alex!”

“Stop. Stop! STOP!”

I open my mouth for another scream, and Cillian shoves a handful of sheet inside. I’m so shocked, my body goes limp as I gape up at him around the linen.

“Jesus suffering Christ!” He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and runs both hands through his hair. “Here I thought you’d hurt yourself, and you try to take my fucking eyes out,” he mutters.

He turns to me, and does a double take when he sees I’m looking at him. “Are you done?”

My chest stutters through one breath after the other as I try and claw myself back to reality.

“Mind telling me what the fuck just happened?”

I glance around a bit, and blink a tear from my eyes. Then I shrug a little and push out a soft, “Sowwy,” around my gag.

He reaches up and touches the tip of his thumb to his cheekbone. It comes back dotted with black. When he twists to face me, I see a drop of blood welling on the tiny cut beneath one eye.

Oh my God. Did I do that?

I try and spit out the gag and get halfway before Cillian shoves it back in my mouth.

“No you don’t, princess,” he mutters, frowning hard at me. “That’s not coming out until you’ve calmed the fuck down.”

Then he gets to his feet and stretches out his neck. “And now I need a cigarette. Two years since I quit—ruined.” His voice trails away as he crosses the room, and then he disappears behind the closet.

Thump—creak. Thump—creak. Thump—creak. Thump—creak.

Stairs. He’s going upstairs.

My mind switches into overdrive. I use my tongue to push the gag out of my mouth as I strain for the smallest sound.

A faint screech of a metal door. If I can get out of these fucking straps—