I have no desire to move or voice my discomfort. I feel sedated, like I'm floating on the outside, observing this shocking scene from afar. What if my attempts to make Jesse see my point of view fail? What if he does punish himself again? I couldn't bear to go through this again and not just because I'm in absolute agony - I couldn't bear to see Jesse on his knees, accepting lashes dished out by Sarah or by anyone, for that matter. Not that I'm ever going to be able to scrub that image from my mind. It will be etched on my brain for as long as I live. Nothing will wipe it away. Nothing.
I don't know how long we sit in silence; me staring into the distance, completely detached from the circumstances, and Jesse sobbing into my hair. It feels like hours, maybe longer. I've lost all sense of time and realism.
The door knocks.
'What?' Jesse's voice is fragmented and low, and he sniffs a few times.
The door opens, but I don't know who it is. My eyes have been staring into space for such a long time, I think they may have set in place. I hear some movement close by and something being put on the table in front of us, but whoever it is doesn't speak. They leave just as quietly, the office door shutting almost silently.
Jesse moves ever so slightly under me, and I inhale on a sharp, painful hiss. He stills. 'Oh, Jesus.' He sounds fraught. 'Baby, I need to move you, I need to see your back.'
I shake my head mildly and press my face into his bare chest. It's going to hurt like hell when he moves me. I want to delay it for as long as possible. I'm not ignorant to the fact that his own back is a blooded mess and he's leaning back on the sofa with me on his lap pressing into him. He must be in some serious pain himself. What a pair of crazy arse, challenging freaks we are.
He sighs and rests his chin on the top of my head. 'Why?' he croaks, kissing my head. 'I don't understand.'
If I could talk, I would be throwing that right back at him. Why exactly?
'Ava, I need to see your back.' He makes to move again and pain slices through me. I clench my dry eyes shut and let him move me until I'm sitting up on his lap.
The gravity smacks right into my stomach and I'm suddenly heaving, my stomach convulsing, my body jerking, which only serves to increase the pain further. I double over on his lap.
'Oh God!' He places his hand on my back in an instinctive move to soothe me while my stomach decides if there's anything left inside me to bring up. The hot contact of his hand has me jolting forward on a cry and my stomach deciding that yes, there is something left to evacuate.
I throw up all over the floor.
'Shit! Ava, I'm sorry. Oh, fuck!' He pulls my hair from my face and tentatively moves to get better access to me. 'Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Ava, what have you done?' His traumatised voice tells me he has just copped a load of my back. It must look as bad as it feels. I'm desperately trying to get a handle of my retching in an attempt to minimise the pain. 'I'm going to move you now, okay?' He grasps me under my arms and stands. I cry out. 'I can't lift you without touching you.' He grunts a few frustrated curses as he tries to maneuver me to the other couch without catching my back.
My legs are still wobbly and unsteady. I wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to see me again on the grounds of feebleness. I never imagined this, but there was no discussion when I handed Steve the whip. Other than my request of no physical contact with him and to give it to me hard, I said nothing. I practically gave him free reign.
'Get on your front.' He lowers me to the sofa on my stomach, and I put my arms under my head as a pillow. 'Ava, I can't believe you've done this,' He kneels by the sofa and pulls over a glass bowl of water with a bottle of purple liquid. He squirts the liquid into the water and takes the roll of cotton wool, tearing some off before dipping it in the