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“Well, yeah. Why?” I pull up the strap and fix it on my shoulder.
Charlie is still quiet, looking at me like I'm a stranger.
“Are you okay?” I ask, then I realize he must not have seen my scars before. When he first took me on that horrible night—the first night—I was lying down on my back, and when he pulled me onto his lap, my hair must've curtained my ugliness. Any other time we've been intimate, we've not had a chance to fully undress because our moments are just that... moments, wild and unthought-of.
“Don't look at me like that, Charlie,” I playfully nudge him in the arm. “They're just marks.” For a second, just a brief second, I think he might find them hideous—the women he's had are probably perfect in every way. Celine certainly looked it. “Do you want me to put on a jumper or something? Do they make you feel... ill?”
“No! No!” He reaches out to me, but then retreats. “Course I don't want you to cover up. And they don't make me feel ill, Blaire... I just...” he doesn't finish. He cups his forehead and scratches restlessly. “I can't believe he's whipped you that hard.”
I gulp, wrapping my arms around my middle. I remember Charlie saying thathe's all for a bit of sadism, and Celine confirmed his dark desires. Does he feel like he's missed out now he knows I can take a beating?
I don't know why I just thought that. It's ridiculous. Charlie would never hit me. Or, I don't think he would.
“I'm just going to the toilet,” I say, and I'm out of the living room before he can utter another word.
I don't use the downstairs toilet. I dash up to my room and shut the door, giving him a chance to come down from whatever mood he's in.
I'm dreading the next moment I see him—which is now.
———
“Open the door, Blaire.” Charlie knocks on my bedroom door with three heavy taps that echo through my room. “Iwant totalk to you.”
My throat restricts, and I don't know why, but I'm scared shitless.
With a shaky hand, I pull open the door. He marches in past me and kicks the door shut with his foot, makes me flinch as it bangs.
“When did Maksim do that to you?” He towers over me, his temples ticking.
I step back, not liking that darkness in his eyes.
“Blaire...” He raises his eyebrows at me.
I look down, knotting my fingers together over my lap. “You know I can't talk about Maksim.”
We're quiet after I say that, but the tension in the room is like blow horns going off.
“Can I see them?” Charlie says eventually.
I keep my eyes down.
“I guess,” I whisper, shrugging minutely. “If you want to.”
“Do you mind if I see them?”
“I'd rather you didn't.” I descend into my shoulders. “I know they're making you uncomfortable.”
“They're not making me uncomfortable at all.” His voice darkens as he yells, “They make mewant torip Maksim's fucking head off! When did he do that to you?”
I cringe against his yelling. I've never seen Charlie this mad before.
“Iwant toknow when he did that to you, Blaire. Does he still hit you? When was the last time he hit you?” He goes on and on, baffled that he's never seen the marks on my back before. “Why haven't you told me the extent of his abuse?” He's practically spitting fire as he yells, “Answer me!”
I take a step back and look up at him with tears in my eyes, putting up a mental wall between us.
“Why are you doing that?” he says, glaring as he studies my eyes. “Why are you moving away from me?”
“If I don't answer you, are you going to hit me?”
