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26
Three years ago
Dax’s fingers are warm, that’s what I notice first. The second thing I notice is that they’re trembling.
“Lift your arms up, Kid,” Dax instructs, his calm voice certain even though his hands aren’t.
I can’t see his expression, and maybe that’s just as well. I might lose my nerve if I looked into his eyes, I might tell him to leave me be, so I can lick my wounds and sleep.
Instead, I’m brave and allow Dax to remove my t-shirt.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” York mutters, his gaze fixed on my chest area, flickering between my bra covered boobs to the bruises that blossom across my skin. When his gaze finally lifts to meet mine, York is looking at me with a mixture of anger and desire. A strange combination that I’m not sure how to handle.
“That motherfucking, psycho bastard,” Dax growls behind me, his fingers are gentle as they push my hair forward over my shoulder so he can get a better look at the damage caused by my brother’s violent hand. “The next time he comes near you, I’m going to fucking kill him.”
My cheeks heat in shame but also in arousal. I have no business feeling turned on, especially after the beating I endured, but the desire in York’s gaze and protectiveness in Dax’s voice makes me feel loved in a way I haven’t really felt before.
Silently, York hands Dax the Arnica gel and he begins to rub it into the bruises on my back. When he’s finished he passes the tube back to York, his hand dropping to my hip as he rests it there. The heat from his palm has my heart battering against my ribcage as the tension in the room expands like a bubble about to burst. It’s a comforting touch, but I can tell by the way the pad of his thumb circles over my skin that there’s more to it than that.
“Here, lean back on me, Kid. Let York deal with the other bruises,” Dax instructs, his voice a low grumble as his breath flutters against the bare skin of my shoulder.
I don’t question him. I shift on the bed so that I’m laying back against Dax’s chest, my legs stretched out between his. My head rests against his upper chest and I turn my cheek to the side wanting to hear the solid beat of his heart. It pounds against my cheek. Thump, thump, thump.
Shutting my eyes, I let York deal with the bruises on my front and even though my cheeks flame as his fingers graze the skin underneath my bra covered tit, I don’t move or tell him to stop. His touch is gentle, kind, and tears clog my throat.
“Look at you, Kid,” Dax exclaims, his chest heaving, his breaths matching those of York’s.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner, Titch? Why didn’t you tell us what that piece of shit was doing to you?” York asks. I can hear the hurt in his voice, and I blink back the tears that I’ve been holding in all night as I look at him. He’s resting his hand on my thigh, staring at me intently. My hands are clenched together in my lap, and goosebumps rise across my skin as Dax’s fingers slide up and down my arms, comforting me.
“Because it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had. You’re one of them now, York. What did David say,Skins before whores?”
“You’renota whore,” Dax grinds out angrily.
“How long has he been hurting you like this?” York asks, trying to hide the shame that creeps into his voice, but I hear it, see it written all over his face. Out of the four, he was always the most adamant that joining the Skins was the last thing he’d ever do, and yet here we are.
I blink back the tears, not wanting to give David any more power over me. Tonight is the last time I shed any tears for that bastard. “For as long as I can remember…”
“Fuck, Titch.”
“When he moved away, it got better. He only comes back to see mum occasionally. I avoid being home when he visits. I thought he’d finished with tormenting me. I guess I was wrong,” I explain, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
“Yet, you came to Jackson Street all these years knowing he was just a floor above us. Why put yourself in danger like that?”
“Because I trusted that I would be safe with you all. That you’d never let him hurt me,” I admit, realising how foolish that sounds now. How could they protect me when I never told them how bad things were?
“Like he did that night we met?”
I’m silent for a long time.
“Titch?” York prompts gently.
“That night was the first time he let go of his restraint. I’d been hit by him before then, but it was only ever a punch here, a slap there. My mum turned a blind eye to it. In her own twisted mind, I think she thought if he had me to use as an outlet for his rage, he’d steer clear of Lena. She lovesher,” I say bitterly, then feel immediately guilty, because I love my little sister too and I would do anything for her to not suffer the same pain I do.
“Your mum needs to be shot,” Dax says darkly. I can’t disagree with him there. I’ve thought about killing both her and David over the years, but then that would leave Lena on her own, and I can’t have that. So I endured for Lena. Besides, thinking about murdering someone is one thing, actually going through with it, something else altogether.
“So that night…?” York, asks softly. I don’t know whether he realises he’s doing it, but his hand is rubbing up and down my thigh in time to Dax’s movements. Their touch makes heat pool between my legs and a rash of heat bloom over my skin.
“That night we first met; David came home drunk after partying with the Skins. I knew the second he came in that I was in trouble. Mum watched him walk into the living room with this cold kind of dread. She looked at me for a couple of seconds and I honestly believed she would stop him this time. She didn’t. She got up from the sofa, walked silently down the hall, grabbed Lena and locked them both in her bedroom.” My lip wobbles, but I bite down hard on it, blinking back the furious tears.
