We stood there even after the class ended and the instructor helped Derek herd the other students out of the hallway.
After another five minutes, I stepped in close, pressing my body along her back, and gently closed my hands around her upper arms. Not tight, not trapping her, but hoping to ground her.
“Emmy, baby, I need you to talk to me. Do I need to get a nurse?”
“No,” she said, so faintly I almost couldn’t hear her.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“He raped me,” she whispered.
I immediately choked back the rage swamping me because I knew she couldn’t mean something that happened in class.
Taking a risk, I wrapped my arms around her and rested my chin on her shoulder. “What do you need from me right now?”
Her hands closed over my arms, a desperate grip on me. “I need my Daddy to protect me,” she whispered.
Untangling all this could wait until I had her safely behind our locked room door and she felt like talking.
But for now, I decided to go with my instincts. “Daddy’s here, babygirl. I promise, no one’severhurting you again. Not with me around.”
She closed her eyes, her body wracked by silent sobs as large tears rolled down her cheeks and fell hot against my flesh.
I finally coaxed her into turning around so I could envelope her in my arms, and she buried her face against my chest. I glanced back to where Derek still stood, maybe even part of thefixtures for all the attention he drew to himself. But then he walked over to the elevator and hit the button, checking it when it arrived to make sure it was empty, and then motioned toward it with his head while he held the door open.
Emmy let me scoop her up. She wrapped her arms around my neck while I swiftly carried her to the elevator. Derek stepped in behind us and didn’t say a word as he punched the button for the first floor. Once there he stepped out first, glanced around, and then quickly led the way to our room where he used a passkey to open it for me so I didn’t have to set her down.
I was aware of him closing the door behind us as I carried her through to the bedroom and stretched out on the bed next to her with her clinging to me as she cried herself to sleep.
I suspected we wouldn’t attend the later class. Which honestly didn’t matter to me because maybe this was just the break—or breakdown—she truly needed to start working on digging out the old, festering material still solidly packed inside her ancient wounds.
Nearly an hour later she startled awake and I tightened my grip around her. “Shh, you’re safe, babygirl. We’re back in our room.”
She immediately relaxed against me but didn’t speak.
And still I refused to rush her.
Finally, “She talked about the reasons people do this,” she softly said. “About trust, and dynamics. And that sometimes people use power exchange and BDSM as a way to reclaim part of themselves denied or ripped away from them. Especially after abuse or trauma.”
I nuzzled the top of her head and kept my damned mouth shut.
Eventually, she continued. “I never knew my father. I don’t even know if my mother knew who he was. I seriously doubt his name was John Smith born on the same exact date as my motherand in the exact same hometown of Dallas. She was only sixteen when she had me.” She laughed bitterly. “The guy she shacked up with when I was about six was probably her drug dealer or pimp or maybe both.”
I didn’t interrupt her thoughts because I knew she wasn’t done.
“I was around eight the first time,” she continued. “Thank god you’re not a smoker or we never would have gotten as far as a first dinner.” She sniffled. “I think it was the third time when she caught him in the act and stabbed him.”
“Jesusfuck,” I muttered, unable to help myself.
“He survived, but she didn’t. He pulled the knife out of his gut and stabbed her. I don’t know what happened after that, but I remember bits and pieces. The hospital. Talking to someone, like a counselor or somebody. A couple of cops, one who let me hold his badge. He’s still in prison.”
“Thank god.”
“Not the cop,” she added.
I couldn’t help the soft chuff of laughter that escaped me. “I figured, baby.”
“I guess I blocked out a lot of time between then and meeting Lilah. I know I was in a foster home, a couple of shelters. I don’t think I was sexually abused again. But I was… I wasmean. I lashed out. Was afraid to let anyone close to me.”
