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Caera waited for the dream to drift away into the ether like they usually did, to be forgotten, but it remained, mocking her. Reminding her she was useless and pathetic, weak and discardable.
“I-I wet the bed,” she confessed in a shameful whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Saul huffed lightly. “I know, bunny. It doesn’t matter. As long as you’re okay, nothing matters. The bedding will wash. I’ll deal with it, but we can’t leave you lying on wet sheets.” Pressing a kiss to the back of her neck, he eased off her, then picked her up and sat her on the edge of the bed, away from the mess. Retrieving a blanket off the floor, he bundled her into it before crouching down in front of her, his hands on her knees. “Want to tell me about it?”
Would you rather I sell her to the highest bidder, recoup some of the investments I’ve put into her worthless hide?
Caera shuddered and covered her face with shaking hands. She could feel things trying to batter their way free—more memories, more horrible things she couldn’t handle. So many monsters in the dark, controlled by one hand.
Mother.
Saul stroked her hair as she bowed her head, breathing deep to waylay the panic building inside her. “Go rinse off in the shower while I strip the bed, Caera.”
She didn’t want a shower. She just wanted to sit right here, with a foreign ache in her ass distracting her from the misery of her dream, and listen to him talk. Craving the peace his voice brought, a little hollow space of sanity in a world she didn’t understand.
It’s what you’ve been trained to do.
It had been directed at the man, at…Darius, she remembered with a jolt, but it struck a chord inside Caera. If she’d been seven when she was dragged from that house, that meant she’d spent at least three years there, if not longer.
What had she been trained to do? What lessons had they been trying to teach her?
And where had that last year between going through those doors and the start of her memories gone?
“Should’ve killed the fucking rabbit, girl.”
Caera shook that off. Killing the rabbit would have done nothing but prolong her time in that house. One test passed didn’t erase all the others she’d failed—not that they’d graced her with their memory yet.
Saul caressed her face, bringing her attention back to him. “Shower, bunny. You’ll feel better.”
She should be horrified to be called a pet name that slotted so well into her nightmare. But she wasn’t. A small voice in her head insisted that if she was his bunny, his little rabbit, then he could protect her the way she’d tried to save that butterfly-nosed bundle of cuteness. Maybe he, as an adult, could do a much better job of saving her than she, as a child, had been able to.
Caera nodded, taking his hand as he rose and offered it. Letting him pull her to her feet and steady her as a wave of vertigo swept over her, making her sway for a second. Shaking her head, she managed to stand straight and keep her balance, sighing as his lips brushed over her cheek. “Thank you.”
“If you need me, just shout. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”
Slowly, setting each foot down as though she walked on a carpet of glass shards, she made her way into the bathroom, feeling his eyes on her all the way. She was glad he was giving her a moment alone, in case that knot inside her decided to break all over again.
The spanking, as grueling as it was, had shaken things up. Chipped fragments away from the whole. Made it easier to breathe.
Goddamn it, she was a fucking mess.
Disaster waiting to happen.
Staring at the shower, she closed her eyes. Jesus, she’d wet herself. She’d had no control over it, the terror had just…fuck, Saul must think she was an idiot. Worse, a child.
The blanket fluttered to the floor as she gripped her hair in both hands and tugged.
Her birth parents hadn’t wanted her.
Her adopted parents had disowned her.
After this, the man she had strong feelings for would probably ghost her.
“The water won’t turn itself on, Caera.” Hands landed on her shoulders from behind, popping her eyes open. In the reflection of the glass, she saw Saul looming over her. “Let me help.”
She felt so numb.
As Saul moved to set the shower going, she turned and went to the sink. She couldn’t get rid of the taste in her mouth, that sickly copper that turned her stomach. The first splatter of water hit the tiled stall floor behind her as she smeared toothpaste on her brush and scrubbed her teeth, her tongue, as though she could physically remove the fear.
