He was up in less than a second and lifting me off my feet. He carried me there and set me down on the toilet. I pointed to the door. “You said whenever I needed privacy…”
He grinned at me and shut the door behind him. I let loose as soon as he shut me in and moaned when the relief made it to my cramped stomach.
How different my life looked these days.
I was telling the truth when I said I was a dancer and didn’t need privacy. It was just part of the description. Especially in my mom’s line of dancing, and I wasn’t all that shy about my body, but… I closed my eyes and remembered the time I had to go before a show.
The food that bitch fed me was top notch, but it was also filled with a lot of fiber. My body had timed my dance schedule pretty good, and I’d go not long before whoever came to get me.One evening, though, the guy was early. By the time I’d made it to the underground club, my stomach was cramping, and my ass cheeks were clenching.
Long, horror, horror,horrorstory short, I was forced to go in a bucket while he kept guard, and it wasn’t like he gave me space.
It was one of the most horrifying moments of my life.
I told myself it was a bodily function, and everyone did it, but…I was extremely private about that stuff, even if I wasn’t about my body.
Shivering out of disgust, I forced my eyes open. I needed to be back in the present. I refused to live in the past, in those terrible times. I willed myself to bury those years, forget them. I stood, and every inch of my body felt…sore, but in a way that made me tired in the best way. I could crawl back into bed and let Matteo wrap me in his arms again.
Even if I couldn’t fall back asleep, staring at him was the best dream. He felt like hope to me.
Turning on the faucet, I yawned. Then I made eye contact with…myself.
Another horror story.
My hair.
My hair! My poor, poor hair!
It wasn’t as bad as it had been—no, maybe it still was. The bald patches were gone, but it was all different lengths, none of them as long as my ears. I was skinnier than usual, which was a change—a good change, the defiant part of me said—but my hair… It was another reminder that my mom was gone, and so was my connection to her.
My hands trembled when I reached up to touch it. My eyes closed and tears slid down my cheeks.
How could he even touch me looking like this?
I was disgusting.
So fucking disgusting.
He had to touch me out of pity. He felt sorry for me. And there I was, feeling all sexy, acting like I looked the way I used to, when my hair was my shining glory. My hands slapped the counter and I leaned over it, silently sobbing.
The door flew open, and Matteo stood there in the middle of it, his eyes narrowing on my face. I tried to wipe the tears, but it was no use. I squirmed in his arms when he wrapped them around me.
“Talk to me,” he said, and his tone was different, not as pliable. He wasn’t going to budge on this.
I pointed to my head. “My hair.” The words came out a garbled mess, but he seemed to understand.
“It’ll grow back, baby.” He turned me toward the mirror. “Look at it. It’s so much longer than it was before.”
“I’m so disgusting! How could you even touch me?”
He spun me around so fast, a wave of dizziness washed over me. He took my chin between his fingers and forced me to meet his eyes. I thought they would be full of sympathy, but the darkness in them seemed impenetrable.
“I love you, Stella,” he said. “That’s how I can touch you. You’re beautiful—doesn’t matter if you shave your hair off, color it a million different shades. What you see in my eyes, your reflection, that’s so beautiful that nothing could dim it. Except for these.” He dried my tears with his fingers, soft touches that made me shiver.
He said something in Italian, then said, “These tears kill me. They wound me so fucking deep. It would be easier to bleed me dry than to see you suffer like this. I know it’s fucking hard what happened to you—and they’ll get their day, I’ll see to it—but as hard as they tried, they could never steal your beauty. That’s something no one can steal, understand?”
I tried to look away from him, but he refused to let me.
“Tell me you see how you shine in my reflection.”
