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“Snuggle with me and let’s get this fever down,” he murmurs. “You’re going through withdrawals and you have some sort of infection we think from your stitches.”
“Oh my god, I’m tainted and dirty,” I cry. I’m convinced those men gave me some sort of STD.
I don’t know how Derek can even stand to touch me.
“Shh, no,” he whispers as I struggle to push him off. “They did a standard STD blood panel while you were at the military hospital. It came back clean this morning. Miranda got the news and told us. Even if you did, we’d just figure it out, baby.”
“I feel soiled, like they’re under my skin,” I confess. “I know I didn’t ask for it, but they drugged me, and my body wanted them. How could any of you want me? I’ve started to remember things in my sleep, and it’s awful.”
“Len, drugging you isn’t consent. They took your words away, your ability to process, until they could manipulate you to be what they wanted,” Derek says. “Feel pissed, upset, whatever you need to. However, don’t give them power over you. You didn’t want any of what happened, right?”
I sit under the water, letting it sluice over my body. The coolness makes me shiver, but it helps me stay in the present, instead of a place filled with confusing feelings.
“No,” I say softly before shaking my head vehemently, my wet blonde hair flying everywhere. Pushing it off my face, I repeat, “No,” louder. “I’d never want them. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Exactly,” Derek says, a note of pride in his voice. “You’re doing so good. I’m going to get you back in bed in a little bit. Think you can stomach anything?”
At the mention of food, I grimace. “No, thanks. My stomach feels like I’m on a boat. It’s gross. I just want to feel better.”
I lay my head on his shoulder, and he sighs. “I know, we’re looking at least another day or two of this, and then we can do shit that makes you happy,” Derek says.
Things that make me happy…What does that even look like?
I’m so removed from my life, I don’t know what that means. Music is something that’s always been in my life, but I don’t know if I can do it anymore. My words have been stolen, so I can only imagine the melody has been too.
Tears prick at my eyes as I think about everything that’s been taken from me. How will I be able to move on? Is that even possible, or am I always going to be the girl Xav broke?
I zone out as I think about whether I’ll ever be safe again. Will other people be safe from me? Xav is still out there… I don’t think he was caught in the rescue mission Greg put together.
Something tells me he’s not just going to forget about me.
“Hey, Roark? I think she’s hyperventilating,” Derek calls out, and I realize my breath is coming really fast.
My hands are shaking, and I gasp out a sob. I feel as if there's pressure on my chest, and I can’t get enough air. I hate being out of control, I feel like shit, and my entire body is sore.
I’m just waiting for my old friend to appear, the black spots that enjoy dancing in my vision before I lose consciousness.
The shower door opens, and Roark steps in, also wearing his boxers. I know they’re being careful with me by covering up, and instead of feeling like a freak, it makes me feel loved.
I know they are worried about me, I wish I could help. Instead, I keep getting lost in my own thoughts, in the horror of the past couple of months.
“Hey, little Valkyrie, let’s get your hair washed, and then tuck you back into bed. How are you feeling?” Roark asks softly.
I’m grateful for the soft voices, because my head still throbs. I don’t know how long I’ve felt like this, but I’m ready to be done.
I feel whiny, but it’s been blow after blow recently.
Roark holds his hand out, and I reach for him. He pulls me into his arms, his finger pushing my face up to look at him.
“I want you to look into my eyes and take a breath with me, baby girl,” Roark says, still speaking softly.
I nod wildly, gasping breaths taunting me. Roark smiles gently, and kisses me hard.
It surprises me and my chest loosens. It’s a firm, demanding kiss, and I relax into his arms. I’ve been kissed by this man for almost a decade of my life, my body would recognize him anywhere.
“There you are baby,” he says with a small smile. Derek stands, grabbing the shampoo. Pouring some into his hand, the scent of lavender fills the air.
“Lavender,” I breathe.
