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“What?” she chokes. “But…but I was with you and…”
“Not after I’d spend time with him,” I explain.
With time, I got really good at hiding Mateo’s bruises and cuts. He made it easy by keeping it on my back, arms, and stomach. “It was only twice in senior year. Then he got sent to prison.”
She nods, but she’s still shaking. “He deserves to die. A horrible death.”
“He does,” I agree. I gulp, choosing my words carefully. “Whenever I’m alone, in a room, and the door is closed.” I shake my head, feeling so stupid for letting it get to me. “I’m just so scared it’ll be locked. When he locked the door, it was just pain. And then, he’d leave me in there for so long—all on my own. I wasn’t allowed to move until he came back, just left tofeelit. The pain.”
I take a deep breath. “I feel dumb. It was so long ago, and I’m still so terrified of being alone in a locked room.”
“No!” She turns around suddenly, grabbing my cheeks between her palms. “Rose, you’re not dumb. This is not your fault. Trauma…it needs to heal in a healthy way. No one ever gave you that. You’ve always been fighting this on your own.”
She lets go of my head to grab my shoulders and hug me tight. It’s not the kind we usually have. Our hugs have always been passionate, with so much lust underlying them that they never lasted too long. I always end up running my hands under her top or her skirt, and she always nibbles at my neck until I can’t help but bury myself in her.
But this one is just…love.
It’s pure love, care, and compassion. She hugs me like a sister would, a best friend. A wife who understands me and wants the best for me. Who has accepted me despite everything.
However, dark thoughts always come in when I start to believe someone loves me. They creep up, and I wonder what she’s thinking right now. Was it worth asking? How traumatized is she? Did she prefer wondering why I can’t close the door when I’m in a room alone? Why I despise having my hair up? It’s hard to tell, but it’s too late to take any of it back.
The proximity, the unconditional love…I feel uncomfortable. I pull away and get up quickly enough to make her stumble.
“Rose,” she murmurs as she follows. “Please, don’t be so afraid to be vulnerable.”
I scoff a mocking chuckle as a defense mechanism and hate myself for it. “I’m not vulnerable. I’m unfixable. You figured it out long before I told you about Bianco. He ruined me, Rachel. Do you understand that?”
“Why?” She still speaks softly, and it raises anger in me. I can’t even explain why. Shouldn’t she be disgusted by everything I went through?
“Because you like it?” she suggests in a gentle voice.
Her words stop me from pacing around the room. Something I hadn’t even realized I was doing until I stopped abruptly. I roll my shoulders and crack my neck.
“What did you just say?” I hiss at her. I take a dangerous step toward her, but she doesn’t falter. She keeps her words kind and her voice calm.
“Do you think he ruined you because you’ve come to enjoy the pain?”
“I-I…” I stutter. I can’t remember the last time I actually stuttered because I was at a loss for words.
“You enjoy the pain, Rose. I know you well enough to know that at least. I know because I used to enjoy giving it to you. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Kink helps many people deal with trauma.”
This time, I cackle a laugh. It only lasts a few seconds before my raspy voice comes to a low threat. “What, are you a shrink now? Is that the course your parents let you take before forcing you to marry Conor?”
She shakes her head, like shrugging away the painful words I throw at her. Shit, I genuinely hate myself when I’m like that. But I can’t fucking help it. I have to protect the fragile being I am.
“I know what you’re trying to do. You can’t push me away by hurting me, Rose. I’ve been through it enough times with you. We’re making progress.”
“What kind of progress are you making, Rach? Discovering kink helps fucked up people? Tell me, what sort of trauma are you getting over by cutting people with your little knife? Please, do share, little miss Stoneview.”
She pinches her lips and looks away. I still saw the hurt in her eyes.
“None,” she whispers.
I’m finally getting to her. Hopefully, she’ll give up on trying to find a solution to the fucked up being I am.
“But I’m not ashamed of what I like,” she says a little louder. “I’ve always been weird for as long as I can remember. So long that I don’t even feel weird anymore.” She shrugs her shoulders. “So what? Blood and knives turn me on. Hurting you and making you fear for your life makes me wet. So does being under you when you want to dominate me.”
She takes a step closer to me. It’s not half as threatening as the one I took to scare her, and yet, I take one back. “I don’tneedto be overcoming trauma to justify my sexual tastes. I’m just tellingyou, it’s okay that you like pain after what happened to you. And even if nothing had, it would be okay too. As long as you find someone to do it with who loves you. And I mean all of you, Rose.”
