She’d looked at me like I had the answers to the fucking universe. The sincere way she stares at me makes me believe in things. She makes me believe in her, and me, and the concrete possibility that we could have a future together. She makes me believe love is possible, the sort of love that will take a goddamn lifetime to get over if I ever fuck up. She’s unknowingly knocking the fucking breath out of me and I can’t remember how to start again.

Shifting and leaning slightly over, I pause for a beat and hold very still, mesmerize with the blinding light of beauty in front of me that seems to radiate from the inside out. Taking a slow, low breath, I graze fingers that are too filthy to touch her down her smooth cheek and suddenly I remember again. Again I breathe deep, lean in closer, and this time bring my nose to the curve of her shoulder and inhale her scent. She smells so clean, so fucking sweet that my mouth waters. I want a taste. Need her juices on my tongue again.

She’s on her stomach, one smooth, shapely leg extending from the navy blue comforter while the other curls halfway up on the bed. I slowly pull back the covers from her back to reveal her ass and the way she’s positioned I can see every beautiful inch of her. I’m behind her in a flash, my fingers skimming over the dark red skin of her pussy lips when…

“No!” It’s a distressing scream that follows with her shooting straight up from the bed and scrambling away from me like I’ve just threaten to kill her. I quickly get over my shock when I notice her whole body is shaking as she huddles close to the headboard. She has her legs to her chest, her arms holding them tightly there while her chin rests on her upraised knees. I’m torn between going to her and gathering her close or just waiting until she shakes off the obvious nightmare she just had. But the second I hear the sounds of her sniffles I’m by her side, no longer indecisive on what to do. When I reach for her, she shakes her head and scoots farther away from me, as if she wants to become part of the black headboard.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, hugging her legs tighter like that’ll stop the tremors in her body. “I thought…I thought you were…” She stops and turns her head to look at me. Her large, expressive eyes are glassy with unshed tears. There are shadows in them that the tears can’t hide. She looks haunted. “I’m so sorry, Maddox…”

Learning from my first mistake, I don’t make the attempt of touching her again, but I move to sit next to her, leaving enough space between us not to make her feel threatened. Sitting on my bed with her, I say nothing for a while, but my mind is racing. Her reaction triggers memories from my fucked-up past. I remember waking up from nightmares just like she just did, scared out of my fucking mind thinking that motherfucker was still alive. I remember that feeling of being preyed on. Of being made to feel weak and helpless every single minute of my life. I remember being too damn afraid of letting anyone touch me because the only touches I ever received were violent and revolting. I look at Aylee, see the way she can’t even stand my touch, and I’m quick in putting two and two together.

“I thought I told you to stop apologizing for shit that’s not your fault.”

She makes an attempt at a shrug. “It’s a bad habit.”

“You thought I was who?”

She shakes her head again, her expression tightening into a frown as she curls her bottom lip between her teeth, an attempt to probably keep herself from talking.

“Aylee?”

“Maddox, please don’t make me. If I tell you, you’ll see how dirty I am. And then I’ll lose you. You’ll see my stains and you’ll tell me to leave you alone.”

“One thing you’re going to have to learn about me is that I don’t scare easily. Unless you plan on telling me you’re not into guys with tattoos there’s not a fuck of a lot you can say or do that’s going to push me away.”

“I’m only into one guy with tattoos.”

I can’t help reaching out to swipe a falling tear from her cheek. “Then do your worse.”

She turns away with a small, sad smile. “You asked me once why I was in therapy. And I guess you figured out it’s because I cut myself. I, um…I cut myself because I feel dirty most of the time. Like so dirty that if I could bleach out my insides I would. Sometimes it’s too much, too revolting, so I have to bleed the stain just to feel a little cleaner. Rachel and Tim, they adopted me when I was nine. They were a really nice couple, so I thought I’d finally found a good family that could love and care for me. And it was like that at first. They really doted on me. Especially Tim.” With her head still turned away I can only hear the steady sounds of her whimpers as she tries not to cry. “He worked a lot so when he was home he took over caring for me. I didn’t think anything of it at first, the way he’d ask me to leave the door open when I was showering. Or after I went to bed and he’d come in my room, lock the door, and just sit at my bedside. The first time he touched me, I was almost ready to fall asleep and I felt his hand between my legs…” She chokes on a sob. I make another effort to touch her but she shrugs me off. “Don’t…” She shudders and looks at me with watery eyes, desperate eyes. “Please don’t. If you touch me now I won’t finish. You need to know me, Maddox. You need to know the sort of fucked-up girl I am. You deserve that much.” She rakes a trembling hand through her hair, probably now adding to her stress by worrying about cussing, before she continues. She could say ‘fuck’ twenty times a day and I wouldn’t care.

“He made me think it was okay. I didn’t fight him, and I didn’t cry. I just let him do it to me. He said it was our little secret. Just for me and him. He told me if I ever told our secret, they’d send me back to the foster system. Return me like I was some puppy they no longer wanted. Every time he’d whisper that threat to me I told myself I was securing a place in the house. If I made myself accessible to him in this way then maybe he’d eventually see me as his daughter. It happened a lot afterward. Especially when Rachel wasn’t home. We never had sex. Just him touching me. And then one night when I was sixteen he decided he wanted more. He was drunk, I remember screaming and then Rachel came running in. He told her it was an accident and that he just stumbled into the wrong room. She believed him. She believed every single lie he’s ever told her. We never spoke about that night after. Even when I sliced my arm open and they took me to the ER. Nobody said anything. Nobody said a fucking thing.”

***

Aylee

What the hell am I doing? Is this really happening? I grab a small bit of skin between my thumb and index finger and press down hard. The bite of pain tells me just how very real this all is. But I’m still confused as to how we went from a moment of the purest form of rapture two people can possibly feel to me word-vomiting all over him. Is this my own form of sabotage? Revealing the vilest part of myself to him, letting him see just how truly filthy I am inside so that he’ll run before my demons push him away. I’m on my feet as quick as I can manage. My nudity is an embarrassment that I need to cover. I find my clothes a few feet away from the bed. I start with my panties and shirt, hastily slipping them on and completely forgetting about my bra.

Everything in me is screaming for me to retreat. I’ve said too much. Revealed too damn much to the one person who I never intended to see the ugliness coating my soul. I need to go. Need to get away. The faster I run, the faster I can get to my blade and…

“Aylee.” He blocks my path and when I try to sidestep him, he moves with me. When he reaches out to touch me, I swat his hand away.

“I need to go.” God, my voice sounds so strange. I don’t have much control over my emotions right now and the harder I try to remain calm, be poised, the faster I feel my composure crumbling. If he doesn’t let me leave, I’m going to burst, and I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.