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I peered up into the mirror, and I didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, glazed over, and hollow. Her cheek had a bruise right at the bridge. I brought my hand up to it and the image of him backhanding me across the face immediately flew through my mind. Her neck had finger marks and bruises. There wasn’t any skin color left on her chest, ribs, and stomach- they were purple, blue, and black all over.
I touched the boot print near my belly button and shook my head, closing my eyes to block out the memory of him kicking me before he left me there to die. My hand moved down to my folds as if a string was pulling it, I hissed out in pain before I even got to my pubic bone. My gaze never left the mirror as I took in every last inch of my broken body. Gradually turning around to see my back that resembled my torso.
I scoffed in disgust when I thought about how much I wanted Dylan to mark me the night before. To leave bruises on me. To make me his.
Did I ask for this?
Did I bring it on myself?
Dylan’s markings intertwined with his and I couldn’t tell them apart. I didn’t know which I asked for and which I didn’t.
I didn’t know anything anymore. I was a black hole of nothing.
I turned on the shower, setting it on the hottest temperature possible, stepping inside, welcoming the heat. Hoping that it would burn away my tainted skin, scorch away the feeling of his hands all over me, his body on top of mine. The hold I knew that would never go away, no matter how much I tried, how much I wanted it to.
My mind ran wild. I couldn’t get it to stop, image after image of my brutal attack playing out in front of me. I was like a hamster on a spinning wheel with nowhere to go.
Round and round in circles with no end in sight.
I heard the rustling of the doorknob and then the knocking on the door.
“Darlin’,” he spoke as I pressed my hands against the shower wall, leaning my forehead on the cool rustic tile.
“Baby, please,” he begged, making me cringe with the simple word baby.
I closed my eyes and all I could see was him. The coward who hid behind a cloak of anonymity, the monster who raped me physically and killed my very being.
And all I could smell was Dylan.
I fell over, heaving down the drain.
“Shit! Aubrey, open the damn door!” He pounded.
I threw up again, holding my ribs that ached in pain. Protesting against my actions.
“Ugh!” I let out, hurling up some more. I spit, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I slid down the tile.
“Aubrey! Please! Please, don’t do this!” he pleaded, beating on the door.
I instantly placed my hands over my ears, tuning out his voice, shutting out my own. I shook my head back and forth.
“Leave me alone! Please just leave me alone!” I shouted until my voice felt raw.
The banging on the door stopped.
Except the one in my mind had only just started.
DYLAN
We stayed a few extra days, giving Aubrey some time before she had to face anyone back home.
I couldn’t tell you how many showers she took, she would stay in there for hours upon hours, as I sat waiting for her to talk to me, to look at me, to acknowledge that I was even in the fucking room.
She never did.
She didn’t raise her gaze to mine.
She didn’t sleep in our room.
