he doesn’t say anything. I stay in the shower for as long as I can. Until the water has lost nearly all of its heat.
The faucet turns off with a screech, and I peek my head out from behind the curtain.
The room is empty, save a small bit of steam clouding the mirror. He left a fresh towel for me on the bench. I walk out of the stall and quickly wrap it around my body. The bandage on my right wrist is falling. So I slowly and gently unwrap it. And then the rest.
My chest hardens as I look at my body. Quick flashes of memory appear before my eyes and I fold into myself, crumpling onto the floor and bite down the scream threatening to hurl itself from my mouth. A cold sweat forms on my body, and my hands start to shake. My body trembles and rocks. I lie against the tile floor, needing to cool down and focus on my breathing. It’s black. Everything is black. But I can hear them. I think I know what they look like. I see his fist coming for me, and a small whimper escapes.
No!
I will not let this hurt me. I have to be strong. I push it down. I push everything away. It’s only a memory. It’s only a memory. So many times I’ve had to remind myself.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been hurt, and this will not break me. I won’t let them. I grind my teeth and will the anxiety down. Just as the calmness washes through me, I remember the crash. I see the large oak tree. I hear the screeching tires, my mother screaming. I see my father’s arms fly out. One in front of his face, the other to the passenger seat.
My eyes fly open, and I force myself to sit upright. I will not go back. I will not go back there. It won’t be of any use. I should know. Giving into fears and false hopes only makes the pain grow.
I stand up and walk to the sink and countertop. The ointments are waiting for me along with a few Q-tips, courtesy of Dom. At least he seems to be taking care of me. I’ll feel better once he lets me see Jax. I feel hopeless knowing he has the ability to keep Jax away from me right now. He has control over me. I’m not sure he means to use it like that. But it doesn’t change the fact it’s true. I can’t disobey him and risk my son.
A chill goes through my bones, remembering how I said I’d go to the cops. I bend down and gently rub more ointment into the cuts on my ankles. They’re an angry red. Anger is appropriate. I’m angry at myself for being so stupid.
Stupid to say that to a man who holds so much power over me, and power in general. And stupid to be reliving the past. It’s been years since I’ve remembered that night. The night my entire world changed, and the only family I had died. I look down at my wrists and examine the scratches and raw open cuts. This is nothing. This will heal.
Shards of glass cut deeper than rope, and that healed. A sickness grows in my gut; it’s not the physical pain that causes the terrors and anxiety. It’s the memory of when the pain happened. I won’t let them haunt me. I can’t. I can’t go back to being useless, all at the mercy of a memory.
An image of the tattoo flashes before my eyes. A bright green dragon and a red shield. It’s burned into my memory. That memory, that one I will remember. I won’t forget the men. But I won’t let them continue to hurt me. They may have tortured me and left me to die. But I won’t give them any more of me. I close my eyes and remember Dom’s promise. I nod my head.
They need to die.
Becca
“What’s all this?” Dom’s bed is covered with bags. I hold the towel close to my body. He’s seen me before, but it’s different now. I feel really fucking uncomfortable with his eyes on me.
“I was going to put it all in the car, but you should take a look at it first.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t really know what you like.”
“All this is for me?” What the hell?
“And Jax.”
“This isn’t necessary.” I shake my head