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“I think twenty. I’m not sure.”
Benedetto drags his thumb over my hand. "It sounds like you went through trauma."
“I think my brain blocked out the memories." I grimace. "That's what Ollie says.”
He removes his hand from mine. "Your friend’s right. Trauma blocking is especially prevalent in these situations. For instance, if a college athlete rapes a girl in his dorm room, she may not remember the rape the next morning. Her brain won’t let her."
"I've heard about that, too."
Ollie told me about this. He was knowledgeable about memories, and I think he read a lot in his past life. But over time, we quit having deep conversations. Our captors monitored our chats and prevented us from speaking late at night. Our moments together were the only good things about my entire time in the warehouse. But the vicious motherfuckers ripped those away from us, too.
"But there are ways of recovering lost memories."
I furrow my brow. "Really?"
"Hypnotherapy is one option. Police detectives use it when working with violent crime survivors. They place the person who needs help in a comfortable room, provide them with sound therapy, and bring them into a deeper subconscious state where their mind can't prevent them from accessing their past."
I blow out a breath. I've never heard of hypnotherapy before. But I don't like the thought of surrendering control to a stranger I've never met. The past few years—however many they were—taught me you can never fully trust anyone. Even if people wear masks of kindness, they use them to conceal their dark sides within.
"Are there other options?" I query.
"One option is to bring you to a place from your past to see if it triggers anything." Benedetto brings his hand back to mine. "That can be viable, too."
"Truth be told, I wouldn't mind trying it.” I grit my teeth. “But I can’t rememberanythingabout my past. I doubt it'd do any good."
My mind is a blank slate. Ollie and I tried to speak about our former lives early on, but it was hopeless in my case. He remembered a lot, especially about his best friend’s Dad who he was in love with, but who let him down after he quit searching for him. But I couldn't even recall my birthday or favorite color.
"Trauma has a way of fucking up your mind." Benedetto squeezes my hand. "I promise, boy, I'll help you through this. You're not alone, and those evil men who hurt you won't be able to block out your memories again."
I stare into his eyes, those beautiful eyes that look like pools of hazel infinity. Then I turn my gaze away. It's not fair that this man is so kind to me, so sweet and nice. Every guy I've encountered over the past few years has been a monster, and if they were nice at first, it was only to destroy me even worse in the end.
But my gut tells me Benedetto is different. What man in the warehouse ever offered to help me with my memories? The compliments they gave me concerned my body or my genitals, both of which made me uncomfortable. I was too young to be exposed to any of that, but they didn't give a fuck. Benedetto speaks to me about my life… my past. He wants to work with me. That's a gift no one’s given me.
I nod. "If you can find out anything about my past, I'd like to hear it."
"My brothers and I discovered where we think you used to live." Benedetto squeezes my hand tight. "I’d like to take you there this afternoon."
I gulp. I might not get another chance to do this.
"And you promise the bad men from the warehouse won’t follow us?" Sobs wrack my voice. "They won't leap out of the bushes and take me away from you?"
All at once, the memory of something being thrust over my mouth, something smelly and gross, flashes across my brain. But it fades away before I can visualize it.
Like before, Benedetto leans in and presses his thumb to my cheek. He wipes my tears away, then tilts my chin up. "Can I hug you, sweet boy?"
A hug. It's the nicest thing anyone's ever offered me.
"Yes." More tears cascade down my cheeks. "Only if you promise not to hurt me. I'll never forgive you if you do."
Benedetto wraps his arms around me, and I bury myself in his body. I inhale the scent of orange peels, pungent and powerful, and nestle my neck in his chest. He’s so big and strong, so different from the men I serviced, that I can't help but feel like the happiest little tulip bulb in a garden brimming with roses.
Benedetto lets out a low growl. “I won't let anyone take you from me. You're safe with me, boy. I'll fight to the fucking death to protect you."
5
BENEDETTO
I takeWesley's hand as I lead him out of the limousine. He's scared someone will pop out of the bushes, and I must show him he's safe. I’m protecting him and nothing will fucking stop me from doing my job.
