charmed by his cocky, self-assured side. I had certainly allowed myself to be pulled in by his physical beauty. But there had to be more to it than that.
He saved you, a voice whispered inside of me. So many times.
Was that it? Was I coming to view him as my savior rather than my captor? Was that how I had been able to fool myself into thinking that I wanted him even after he had returned me to my prison? I had been so close to freedom…
And what kind of freedom would that have been? I went cold at the thought of the pale-eyed man who had attacked me. How long do you think that man would have allowed you to live when he was finished with you?
I shuddered, forcing my thoughts away from him. So my first escape attempt had failed. I was alive to keep fighting, and that was what mattered; I wasn’t about to give up. I hadn’t been lying to Sean: I refused to remain here as his pet doctor for the rest of my life, my existence reliant on the whims of the men who held me captive.
I wasn’t going to allow myself to fall apart. So I squared my shoulders and turned on the sink faucet, adjusting the water so that it was lukewarm. With a hiss of pain, I forced myself to gently work soap into the long, thin abrasions that marred my palms. They weren’t too deep, but cleaning them stung like a bitch. When I was finished, I inspected myself carefully. I didn’t think I would even need Band-Aids.
I couldn’t help but linger in the bathroom. I wanted to stay in there, to savor my privacy. But Sean was bleeding in the next room, and despite my anger with him, I couldn’t bear the thought of him in pain. Taking a deep breath, I unlocked the door and navigated through the darkened living room until I reached the warm glow of Sean’s bedroom. Tentatively, I stepped inside, calling myself a coward for not meeting his eyes as I approached the bed.
As I unwound the gauze from around his chest, I was grateful for the thin barrier that the medical gloves provided, lessening the electric effect of the feeling of Sean’s skin touching mine. I worked quickly and quietly, making four new sutures to replace the ones that he had broken open while saving my life. He endured silently, not even tensing as the needle pierced his skin. The air around us was heavy with suppressed emotion, suffocating me as it pressed tightly against my lungs. It was a relief when I finally finished bandaging the wound; I could finally put some much-needed distance between us again.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said quietly, still not looking at him. I didn’t wait for any kind of acknowledgement or permission. Now that I thought about it, I felt horribly dirty, as though trails of grime were encrusted on my skin where the pale-eyed man had touched me. My hands, so steady moments before as I had stitched up Sean’s wound, were now trembling as I fumbled to turn on the shower. I turned the temperature as hot as it would go before stripping off my slutty dress and stepping under the scalding spray, letting the uncomfortable heat of it scour the filth from my skin. I longed for a loofa to scrub it away, but as it was, my fingernails would have to do. After a few minutes, the rational part of my mind realized that I was causing myself too much pain; I was rubbing my skin raw.
I forced myself to draw in a deep breath. Calm down, I ordered myself. Think of something else.
My mind turned to Sean of its own accord, the memory of his furious roar, the strength of his arms as he held me, carrying me away from my assailant.
“You’re safe now.”
And it had been true. Despite everything, I knew deep down that all he wanted was for me to be safe, whether that meant standing up to his best friend or fighting off a rapist in the street. He had put himself in danger for my sake tonight when he could have easily solved all of his problems by letting me die.
But what about protecting you from
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Twice Twenty-two (v2.1)
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