by LP Lovell
“I want to leave,” I say.
His gaze snaps to mine as if he’s surprised I’ve spoken to him. Have I become so bad?
“And go where?”
“The garden.” I want to remember what the outside feels like. I need…something.
I get off the bed, and he holds the door open for me. We walk silently through the house. I can feel eyes on me, but I don’t care. Once outside, the sun bathes me in its red-hot rays. I close my eyes and turn my face towards it, submitting to its power. The dry grass brushes my bare feet as I walk and everything feels…more. A warm breeze skitters over my skin, bringing the scent of eucalyptus with it. I keep walking into the eucalyptus grove until I reach where it all started. I can hear Rafael right behind me, but he hangs back when I stop and stare at a spot on the ground.
It was here that I was dragged away from Lucas. He was bleeding in the grass. He was dying. That feeling in my chest intensifies, and again I retreat away from it. I’m scared to feel it. I’m scared I can’t survive it.
“Lucas?” I ask quietly.
Rafael moves beside me. “Alive.”
I nod. “I want to walk alone.”
I hear his heavy intake of breath. I can practically feel the sting of rejection as it passes over his features. He turns away from me, his shoulders tense, even as they slump under the weight of defeat.
I walk through the garden for a while, battling with myself. It’s not that I don’t want to feel these emotions. I do. I just can’t. I’m terrified to feel again because it just hurts so much. I think of Rafael, of the pain I’m causing him. He’s saved me. Twice. He doesn’t deserve this. I want to be able to ease his pain. And it’s this solitary fact that makes me desperate.
I go back to the house and quietly move along the hallways. I hear voices coming from around a corner, so I duck into the kitchen.
“She’s getting better. She left that room.” I think that’s Carlos.
“I’ve lost her, Carlos. I was too late.” Rafael. He sounds so broken, and I realize just how much he must have been holding it together in front of me.
“What are you going to do?”
“Protect her, like I said I would.”
“Rafe…maybe you shouldn’t do this to yourself.”
“She’s mine,” he snaps. “Even if she no longer knows that.”
Their voices drift away, and I press a hand over my chest. Leaning against the worktop, I close my eyes, feeling the hurt, trying to embrace it. It doesn’t work. I find myself needing it with overwhelming desperation. He’s giving up, but I’m not so broken that I don’t know I need him. He can’t give up, which means I can’t give up. Opening my eyes, I turn around, and that’s when my eyes land on the knife block. I need to feel. Something. Anything. Snatching a knife from the selection, I hurry out of the kitchen and up the stairs before shutting myself in his room.
I stare at the knife, turning it over in my hand. The sun catches on the metal, glinting. With a deep breath, I go into the bathroom and stand in front of the vanity. I look at my reflection, meeting my own lifeless eyes in the mirror. Gone is the strong, beautiful girl that once stood before Rafael in a powder-blue dress. That girl was brave. That girl hurt. That girl was broken and at times weak, but she had courage. She felt it all, and she loved. Fiercely. The girl looking back at me, she isn’t me. Now I see that she is the lie. She’s someone I’ve become to survive, but I don’t want to survive. I want to live.
Holding my arm over the sink, I take the blade and press it into the flesh just below my elbow. Inhaling deeply again, I push harder and drag it over my skin in a burning trail. It hurts, and the pain radiates up my arm. I feel it. Moving the blade, I draw another line, next to the first. Blood wells, running over my skin and pouring down the drain, and as it does, it takes my numbness with it. As the pain radiates through my mind, it releases everything else. I feel the shame and the disgust, the hatred and the loathing. I remember the feel of their hands on my body, the bile that would rise in my throat. I feel the blinding sting of my sister’s betrayal, the utter desolation of watching her—my last hope, walk away from me. Again and again I rake the blade over my arm until I’m buckling under the weight of all my pent-up emotions. The ache in my chest becomes so intense that it feels as though I’m being torn apart from the inside.
A sob breaks from my throat and tears stream down my face. This is what it is to feel. This is what it is to live. I just may not survive it.
24
Rafael
“Boss!” One of my guards runs up to me, his face flush as he tries to catch his breath. “I saw the girl go upstairs with a knife.”
“What? Why didn’t you stop her?” I don’t wait for an answer. My heart pounds so hard as I rush through the house, taking the stairs three at a time. I shove the bedroom door open. “Anna!” My eyes fly around the room, and it’s then that I hear a choked sob from the bathroom.
When I step into the bathroom, it’s like something out of a murder scene. Anna is sitting on the floor in a pool of blood, her back braced to the wall. She has a knife in one hand, and her other forearm is covered in deep bleeding gashes.
“Fuck. No, no, no.” I tear my shirt over my head and tie it tightly above her elbow. Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around her arm.
“Rafael.” She lifts her hand, trailing bloody fingers down my cheek.
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I call the doctor.
“Hello.”
“You need to get here now!”
“I’m—”
“Anna slit her wrist.”
“Okay. I’m on my way. If you can, put her in an ice bath. It’ll slow her heart rate.” He hangs up, and I press my fingers to her throat. Her pulse is still okay. Reaching over to the tub, I turn on the cold water.
“Just hold on for me,” I say to her, dialing Carlos.
“Yeah,” he answers.
“I need as much ice as you can get in my bathroom. Now.”
I hang up and pick Anna up, placing her in the tub. She turns to look at me, and I see pain in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says.
“Why would you do this?” My voice breaks in defeat. She’s always been the girl that I thought I could save, but never quite could.
“To feel,” she whispers. She closes her eyes for a second.
“Anna! Stay awake, baby.” Her eyes open again. “Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Anything.”
“I remember what it feels like,” she whispers.
“What?”
“To love you.” I’d normally be elated to hear that, but I’m fucking terrified. Blood is seeping through the white towel I wrapped around her forearm, staining the rising water a morbid pink.
“You slit your wrist, and now you want to talk about love?” I’m angry. I’m mad that she would do this, to me. To us.
“It was worth it.”
The door opens behind me. “Holy fuck.” I turn to face Carlos and take the bucket of ice from him. I pour it into the water, and Anna sucks in a sharp breath.
“I need more.” He nods, taking the bucket and walking out. Anna has closed her eyes again, and her lips are tinged blue. “Don’t die on me,” I whisper. “I need you.”
No response.
“She will be fine,” the doc says, glancing at her. She’s hooked up to a blood bag, her forearm covered in bandages. “But I think you need consider putting her in a facility.”
“What?”
“She needs professional help, Mr. D’Cruze. She’s a very troubled young girl.”
“Get out.”
With a sigh, he walks out of the room, leaving me alone with Anna. She’s sedated, so I know she won’t be waking up for a few hours, but I still have the urge to be with her. Carefully, I lay down beside her. I’ll be gone by the time she wakes up, and she won’t even know I was here. Creepy maybe, but I’m reduced to getting whatever small contact with her I can.
I rise to consciousness at the fe
el of something stroking over my jaw. Blinking my eyes open, I turn my face towards the source and find Anna. She’s on her side, her bandaged wrist clutched to her chest. Her free hand comes to rest on the side of my neck.
A soft smile touches her lips, and she looks more peaceful than she has since before she was taken. “Hey,” she whispers.
“Anna?” I frown. “How are you feeling?” It’s a stupid question. She slit her own wrist for fuck’s sake.
“I’m fine.”
I reach out and brush my knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek. She doesn’t flinch, instead leaning into my touch. It’s like…she’s back. My Anna. But she’s not fine.
I press my lips to her forehead, inhaling the scent of raspberry for the first time in months because I haven’t been able to touch or even be close to her since I got her back. I missed this: the small things, the simple ability to reach out and touch her. There are a thousand things I need to say to her but now is not the time. She’s groggy and injured. She needs rest.
“You need to sleep.”
I pull back, and she grabs a handful of my shirt, almost in a panic. “You’ll stay though?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She relaxes, shifting closer to me until her head is on my chest, her bandaged arm resting on my stomach. It’s like a switch has flipped, and she’s finally here with me. I’m grateful, but I hate the idea that she had to try and kill herself before she got here.
I’ve failed her, but I will never let her down again.
25
Anna
I groan and roll over onto my side, blinking my eyes open. I instantly recoil against the bright light. My head is pounding, and it feels like everything is spinning around me. Damn that doctor and his stupid drugs. My arm throbs beneath the layer of bandages, the skin pulling uncomfortably tight with every move.
“Avecita.” That deep rough voice whispers over my senses, and I relax instantly. My heart lets out a single staggered beat as the scent of cigar smoke and citrus engulfs me. I turn to face him. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed. As he looks at me, I remember all the times I pictured his face when I was locked in that room. My memories never did him justice. But he kept me from the brink, from tipping over the edge into total desolation.
“How do you feel?”
“I’m okay,” I say quietly.
His eyes narrow. “You slit your wrist. You are not okay.”
I glance down at my bandaged wrist. “I cut my arm. And it was necessary.”
“Necessary for what?” His voice rises slightly, and I can see him fighting back the anger. It’s what Rafael does—when he doesn’t know how to handle his emotions, he gets mad.
“To retreat inside myself. It’s…a survival mechanism.” I try my best to explain it. “But this time, I couldn’t get out.” He drops his chin to his chest and releases a heavy breath.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he chokes out.
“Never.” I reach out and thread my fingers through his.
“You tried to kill yourself, Anna.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I just needed something physical.”
“You nearly died.” He pulls away from me and stands, pacing across the room. “Do you understand that? You nearly died.”
I smile sadly. “But I wasn’t living anyway, was I?”
He takes a deep breath and rounds the bed, coming to sit next to me. “Avecita, I love you…but I don’t think…” He hesitates and takes a deep breath. “I don’t think I can help you. I’m not what you need.”
My heart rate rises fast. “What?” I grab his arm so hard I can feel my nails bending against his skin, but I don’t care.
He cups my cheek. “There are places. People who can help you.”
Panic creeps up on me until my lungs feel as though they’re shrinking. He wants to send me away. After I fought so hard to get back to him. “No. Please don’t.” My breaths get shorter—my chest squeezing until I’m suffocating.
“Anna! Fuck. Breathe.” He strokes over my face, whispering sweet words in my ear. Tears stream down my face and my fragile heart lets out a pitiful cough.
“Please don’t leave me,” I beg. Of course he wants to leave you. You fucked all those men. You’re unclean. The pain I wanted so badly to feel, consumes me until I feel like I’m standing in flames, feeling the heat lick over my skin. “Please don’t.”
“Shit.” He grabs me and pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around my body. “I don’t know how to fix this, little warrior.”
“I understand if you…don’t want me anymore.”
He pushes me away from him and grabs my face in both hands, staring into my eyes. My pain is mirrored there in his dark irises. “I will always want you, but you need help.”
I shake my head. “I just need you.”
“You need to deal with what they did to you—”
“Stop.” I don’t want to think about them, or anything. He’s the only thing keeping the barrage of vile emotions at bay, and I can feel them right there, hovering, just waiting to burn me. I need to feel nothing but this for a little while longer.
Sliding my hand around the back of his neck, I pull him closer and press my lips over his desperately. He’s hesitant and careful, not like he usually is. I crawl closer to him, threading my fingers through his hair and demanding more. A feral need washes over me. I need him to right all the wrongs. I know he can cleanse me.
He groans when I straddle his lap, his fingers gripping my waist. “Anna,” he breathes against my mouth.
Taking my shoulders, he pushes me back until his eyes meet mine. He swipes both thumbs beneath my eyes, wiping away tears. As I stare into those dark eyes, something skitters in my chest, like birds taking flight all at once, wings beating frantically. I lean forward and kiss him again. His hands slide along my jaw as his lips move over mine gently. Hard and yet soft, that’s what Rafael is. He tastes like sunshine and exotic flowers, and the wildness of the desert. He feels like home. I have no real home, but I think he’s it.
One hand drops to my waist, and he tugs me closer until I’m plastered against his body. “Avecita,” he breathes against my lips. “You need…”
“I need you.”
His forehead touches mine and he groans. “You can’t put a band-aid on this. I won’t lose you again.” His voice comes out as a choked rasp.
“You won’t. You’re always the one to save me.” He physically saves me, but his love keeps me from the darkest parts of myself. My love for him was enough to pull me from the very depths of myself. “I love you,” I whisper.
The last few months have changed me, broken me a little more perhaps, but they also made me realize that life is short and fragile. I didn’t know if I would see him again. Every time Nicholai’s soldiers paid me a visit, the thing that wounded me more than anything was that these men were taking from me, just as so many before them had, and they were getting a part of me they didn’t deserve. A part that I had never even given to the one man I loved. Maybe I simply didn’t realize how much Rafael meant until that point, until this point.
He takes my hand, brushing his thumb over the spot where my little finger used to be. The reminder of my greatest betrayal: my own sister. I close my eyes and a stray tear tracks down my face. I’m sad, but mainly I’m so angry. I’m angry with them. I’m angry with myself for being so helpless and pathetic. I’m angry at the injustice.
I want him to take all the bad memories and erase them. I need him to break me so completely that only he can put me back together again.
“Take it away,” I beg. I lean in and kiss him, catching the corner of his lip before brushing my mouth over his. “Please.” He remains motionless, and I take a deep breath, bracing myself before I reach for the buttons of his shirt. I get two undone before his fingers wrap around my wrist, stilling me.
“Anna, you’ve been through a lot.”
The rejection washes over me, so hard
and fast that it knocks the breath from my lungs. I snatch my hand away from him and back away until I hit the headboard. God, it hurts, more than I ever thought it would. I never saw a day where I would willingly offer myself to anyone, and he doesn’t want me. He groans. “Don’t do that.”
“Can you just…leave? Please.” I feel the crater of space ripping wide between us as my wounded little heart limps along in a jilted beat.
“No.” His fingers wrap around my ankle, and he drags me down the bed until my back hits the mattress. His huge body presses over mine until he’s staring down at me. “You don’t get to shut down on me like that. You don’t get to spend the last month like a zombie, only to slice yourself up and then act like everything is okay.” I close my eyes and tears track down my temples. He’s so angry, his body trembling over mine. “You don’t get to just leave me like that,” he says, quieter now.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out. I can’t do this. The moment of bravery I had has gone, and now I’m purely ashamed. He doesn’t want you. Why would he? You’re dirty and used. You’re a filthy whore. I cover my face with my hands, and a sob chokes past my lips.
“Little warrior, you can’t break on me now,” he whispers, his lips brushing over my shoulder.
“You’re ten years too late for that.” My voice is strangled and raspy.
He pulls my hands away from my face and pins them to the mattress above my head. “You may be down. You may be a little bashed up, but you’re never broken, avecita. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” His eyes flick over my face. “It’s why I love you.”
“But not enough to want me.”
He huffs a small laugh. “Little warrior, you have been the bane of my existence since I laid eyes on you. To want something that you know you’ll destroy so badly; it’s a particular form of torture.”
“Then why—”
“Because I have to know you’re ready. This can’t be an attempt by you to forget what they did to you.”