There was so much rage in Sin’s eyes. He let go of my hands, and I fell to the ground.
“I won’t do it,” he said, something dark simmering under the surface of his words. “I won’t hurt you just so you can make them happy. You’re doing this, all of this, for them.” He spat the word, and I knew the disgust he felt wasn’t for me but for the people who drove me to this point. “They don’t deserve you.”
“This isn't for them,” I argued. “It's for me. I just need to stop feeling weak. Please, Sin. I need to stop feeling so… lost.”
His entire demeanor collapsed then, crumpling under the weight of my request. His head dropped, and for a minute he stood there, not saying a word but also not walking away.
A moment later, he knelt beside me. “Oh, Fea Remia,” he murmured, “why me?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “When I made my decision you were the first person I thought of. I can’t explain it, but I feel like what I need… It has to be you.”
He studied my face. “What exactly are you asking for, Rain?”
“Dey said it has to be a mix of physical and emotional pain, so I need you to help me relive the worst night of my life.” Turning away from him, I dragged my tunic up, exposing the wide patch of ruined skin on my lower back. “I want you to cut these scars open.”
Just thinking of that night already had me quivering. When Sin sliced into my flesh… it would destroy me. I just hoped I could rebuild myself afterward.
He made no sound at the sight of my scars, and I waited for him to say something. Every second felt like agony as I sat there, hunched over and feeling more bare than if I had actually been naked.
When I could no longer take the silence, I turned back to him, prepared to see pity or shock. Maybe even disgust. I’d seen it all. Hell, more than a few guys had refused to be with me after they saw the scars.
All I saw on Sin’s face, though, was pure concentrated rage. Every hard line of his face was locked in tension, and I saw the muscle in his jaw tick twice before he opened his mouth.
“When?”
I blinked at him, confused. Who, why, and how were the popular choices when someone saw the damage but 'when' was rarely brought up. And yet, it seemed so important to him.
Whatever the reason, I felt like I could tell him the truth, the raw, dirty truth that most people who saw my back didn’t actually want to know.
The words came out sluggishly as I forced myself back to that night. “I was sixteen. I’d been sent to live with a new foster family—the Thorntons. At first, I thought they were wonderful, and they even had a son my age. Jimmy was so cute, and for weeks he made me think that he was kind and funny and…”
My throat tried to close up on me at the memory. I’d never even been able to talk about it before. Not to Jenn, not to any therapists. I could feel something straining inside me, something hot and angry trying to break free from where it lay buried deep beneath layers of pain and suffering.
Dropping my eyes to the dirt at my feet, I forced the rest out. “He was my first. I thought he liked me. Maybe even loved me, whatever that means. But after we… I was laying there with my back to him, imagining how much better my life could be with a loving home and a boyfriend who saw me as more than an orphan. I was so happy. For the first time in my pathetic life I was actually optimistic and hopeful and… naïve.
“He was halfway through the first cut before I even felt the knife in my skin. I was too small and too weak to do anything more than struggle, and that just made it hurt worse. He held me down and took his time. He wanted it to be perfect. I was sobbing so loudly that his dad came in and told me to keep quiet. He knew exactly what his son was doing and didn’t care.
“When Jimmy finished, he went back to his room, and I spent the rest of the night curled into a ball, my blood soaking the mattress beneath me. The next morning they slapped a bandage on it and said they would kill me if I ever told anyone. A week later I was sent to a new foster home. Their twisted son got what he wanted, and they had no further use for me.”
I traced the thick ridges covering the entirety of my lower back that no amount of time would ever fade. JRT, he had carved. Jimmy Ryan Thornton.
I pushed myself to meet Sin’s gaze, to see what he thought of me now that he knew the truth. His face was twisted in agony, and I honestly thought I might have preferred pity.
“He claimed you,” he whispered, his entire body shaking, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. “I didn’t know.”
I laughed bitterly. “Of course you didn’t know. Nobody here does. Well, Cam saw my back once, but I told him to keep quiet and didn’t give any details. I don’t exactly enjoy reliving it.”
He shook his head, mumbling to himself. “He needs to pay. I should have made him pay for it…”
I gaped at him. “What are you talking about? I was sixteen, and we hadn’t even met yet. I don’t need your overprotective, alpha male bullshit, and I really don’t need it retroactively.” I climbed to my feet and pulled my tunic on. “I’ve hidden from what happened that night my whole life. If reliving it helps me become stronger then… then at least something good can come out of it. So help me become strong.”
He didn’t get up, just remained sitting in the dirt, refusing to look at me. “I can’t,” he said softly.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” I replied, disbelief flooding my face. “I know it’s disgusting, but you would be doing me a favor. You could help me awaken my power. Please, Sin.” I never begged anyone for anything, but I would crawl on hands and knees if it meant I might wake up tomorrow able to wield magic.
He looked at me then, something inexplicable hiding in the depths of his eyes. “Your back is not disgusting, Rain. You could never be disgusting to me. But I won’t make it worse.” He paused, then added something in Rivellan, his words soft and tender.
I was too angry to even care what it meant. I just told him my darkest secret, ripped my trauma wide open in front of him, and he was refusing? “Why the hell not?” I yelled.
