Only when he reached in to pull her out of the tub did he notice the cuts on her leg.Fortunately, they weren’t deep, but they were bleeding.He sat down on the floor and settled her onto his lap, wrapping a towel around her.He grabbed a cloth and held it against the wounds on her thigh.They weren’t serious, at least.
For a long time, he simply held her.The world wasn’t a fair place.She didn’t deserve this.
“I wasn’t going to do what you think,” she said again.“I just needed to feel… something.”
His heart wept for her.He knew what that was like.That desperate need to feel was what had driven him to track down Ash in the first place.
“Will you help me to feel something, Trent?”She moved his hand up toward the juncture of her thighs, but he pulled it away.
“No, Samantha.”
“Please.”
He shook his head, and she looked up at him.“Why not?”
“Because it would make me no better than them.”
After a pause, laughter spilled between her lips.Not from humor.This laughter was spawned by pain.
“You think you could be like them?You aren’t capable of that kind of cruelty.You could never be like them, Trent.”She got to her feet and limped, naked, into her bedroom.
He wasn’t sure whether or not he should follow, but then she came back.She threw her sketchbook onto the floor beside him.
“You could never be like him.”
He stared down at page after page of the same man’s face.In some, he was clearly a monster.In others, he looked almost kind.
“Is this the man you thought was your husband?”
She nodded.“Today is the sixth anniversary of our wedding.”
Oh God.That never occurred to him.He hadn’t given the man a second thought.But right now, hatred boiled in his veins.He was the cause of all her pain.
She stared down at him and the book, looking utterly lost.How could she not be?
With a sigh, he got up off the floor, but she didn’t move.Perhaps she couldn’t.He found a nightgown and wrapper and put them on her, then picked up the sketchbook, and carried her into her room.There was no fire to warm her, as it wasn’t a cold day.Instead, he settled her onto his lap and pulled her against him to share some of his own warmth.She didn’t pull away from him, but she also didn’t cry.
He still held the sketchbook, and she opened it again.She sat up and shook her head as she turned the pages.“I should be angry.”She flipped to one of the images where he was unmistakably a villain.“But how can I be?”She turned to a more benevolent rendering.“He never hurt me.He was the one who always nursed me back to health after the men were finished with me.”
Dear God.What pain must she have endured?If the man weren’t already dead, he’d throttle him himself.
“He would be so loving and caring and so sorry for the pain and anguish I was going through.He’d tell me what a good girl I was and how proud he was of me.”For a moment, she held her breath.“And then he’d send me back again.”
A sob finally burst from her as a flood of tears poured from her eyes.Gasping, choking sobs, that contorted her whole body, and made him want to weep with her.How could someone be so cruel?What horrors had been visited upon her?After a long wail, she tore the page from the book and crumpled it in her hand.Her head tipped back, a tortured, feral scream hurtling toward the ceiling.
Although he desperately wanted to, he didn’t try to comfort or quiet her.As heart-wrenching as it was to witness, she needed to go through it.She needed to feel every bit of it.Only then, could she finally begin to heal.All he could do was be with her and pray that it was enough.
There was a tap on the door, and Sandra cautiously peeked into the room.“Have Benson bring in some tea, and no one else is to disturb us.”With a quick nod, she was gone.
Samantha started to brush her tears away.
“Don’t stop,” Trent said, frustrated that they’d been interrupted.“Keep feeling whatever you need to feel.”
She looked into his eyes, her brow furrowed as she sucked in short, gasping breaths.
“You’re so brave,” he said, brushing some pieces of cut hair off of her face.“So incredibly strong.”
“I don’t feel very strong.”The tears had slowed, but they continued, at least.
