"Are you okay?" I say, stroking his arm.
"Don't even feel it. I only feel you," he looks at me tenderly and I almost cry again. How can he look at me like that when he knows what they did? I'm dirty and disgusting and... used.
"How about I draw you a bath?" he asks as soon as the IV is empty. I nod at him and he removes the needle gently before he places a cotton ball and bandage over the small wound. He helps me up and I feel so much better already with the fluids in my system.
We walk back down the hall past the front door. On our way we pass two rooms which look like bedrooms until we get to the end of the hall and enter into this massive room. It's definitely the master bedroom. The expansive space has minimal furniture and tall ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows just like the living room. To the left is the bathroom. Marco walks into it and starts the tub water. I follow behind him and watch him check the temperature of the water, add Epsom salt for my sore body, and bubble bath. He lights a few candles that he pulled from under the sink and places them around the tub.
Once everything is set up, he stands back. The candlelight flickers across his face, highlighting the concern in his eyes.
I don't want him to see my body like this, bruised and battered and used. He reaches for the bottom hem of my shirt tolift it over my head, and I place my hands on top of his to stop him.
He steps back immediately, dropping his hands. Pain flashes across his face.
"I can't—" My voice breaks. "I don't want you to see me like this."
"Elena—"
"I'm dirty. I'm—" The words catch in my throat. "They—you heard what he said. What they did. And I can't remember and I don't know?—"
"Stop." Marco steps closer but doesn't touch me. "Listen to me. Whatever they did to you—whatever happened while you were unconscious—it doesn't change how I see you. It doesn't change anything."
Tears spill down my cheeks. "How can you say that? How can you look at me and not see?—"
"I see you, Elena. The woman who's been fighting to survive. The woman who stood up to Ronan even when she was terrified. The woman who's stronger than she knows." His voice is fierce. Certain. "What they did to you—that's on them. Not you. Never you."
"But I feel—" I wrap my arms around myself. "I feel broken. Used. Like I'm not?—"
"You're not broken. You're hurt. There's a difference." He reaches up slowly, telegraphing the movement, and cups my face. "And nothing—nothing—could make me think less of you. I never could."
I want to believe him. Want to lean into his touch and let him hold me. But my body won't cooperate. I tense under his hand, and he feels it.
He drops his hand and takes a step back. "I'm going to give you space. Privacy. Whatever you need." His voice is gentle. "I'llbe right outside if you need me. Just call out and I'll be here in seconds."
"Okay," I whisper.
"There are towels on the shelf. Clean clothes on the bed." He pauses at the door. "Take your time. There's no rush."
He starts to leave, then turns back. "Elena? You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you again. I promise."
The door closes softly behind him.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at the bath. The bubbles are starting to dissipate. The water will get cold soon.
With shaking hands, I pull off the oversized shirt. Try not to look at the bruises mottling my skin in shades of purple and yellow. Try not to think about how they got there.
I step into the lukewarm water and sink down. The Epsom salt stings the cuts and abrasions but I welcome the pain. It's proof I'm still here. Still alive.
I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
And then, finally alone, I let myself break.
The sobs come silently at first. Just my body shaking, tears streaming down my face into the bathwater. Then louder. Gasping breaths that echo off the tile.
I press my hand over my mouth to muffle the sounds. Don't want Marco to hear. Don't want him to know how thoroughly shattered I am.
But the truth is, I don't know how to put the pieces back together. Don't know if I ever will.
I kneel there in the cooling water, arms wrapped around myself, and cry for everything I've lost. For the time I can't remember. For the things that were done to me while I was unconscious. For the girl I was before all this started.
