“Okay.” It’s not that it would be a problem if she is, I was just shocked.
“But the day before I ran, he took me to a clinic.” A tremorruns through her. Fuck this. I bend forward and scoop her up into my arms. “What are you doing?” she asks with a laugh as I stand and carry us to the bed.
“I need to hold you.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“It’s for me, not you.” She hums in the back of her throat, but doesn’t call me out on it. “Continue,” I urge.
“There’s a procedure they can do to tighten your vagina.”
I still, my heart tripping over itself. “Is that something you wanted?” I’ve heard of it being done and know it can be for legitimate reasons. I’m not here to judge her.
She shakes her head, then lays a palm over my heart and places her head on my shoulder so I can’t see those gorgeous eyes. But I understand; it’s easier to speak your horrors to someone when you aren’t looking at them.
“No. I didn’t even know what I was there for until the doctor took me into the procedure room.”
“That must have been difficult. Did the doctor not talk to you privately?”
“My husband insisted on being with us at all times, even during the procedure.”
Rage for this man, and the clueless, careless doctor grows. “And you’ve not had sex since?”
“No, I ran the next day. But there’s more.” I’m sure there’s a hell of a lot more. She shifts in my lap, and my arms tighten to keep her close as I try to instill her with the courage she needs to face her demons. “He had my hymen reconstructed,” she whispers, her voice full of shame.
The air stills around us. Now her reaction makes sense. I’m going to murder him. Cut him up into tiny tiny pieces before feeding him to the pigs.
“What?” Cleo asks with a gasp. I must have let that slip.
“Again, was that forced or voluntary?”
“Forced.”
“Thank you for trusting me with this.”
“I freaked out on you, so you deserved to know.”
“No one has automatic access to your thoughts.” I will, however, be calling in a few favors. Her demons are about to meet the devil.
“That felt cleansing. I’ve only spoken to two other people about this, and that was because I was forced to. He caught up to me once, and I had to leave my medication behind. I got an infection and needed help.”
“I’m glad you found someone to help.”
“Now you know why I’m so fucked up. I’m not worth your time. I’m damaged, Fox. So thank you for listening, but now you can leave.”
My heart twists. “Do you want me to leave?” I wait a beat before sighing. “Your body is for your pleasure, not mine, nor anyone else’s. Being a survivor doesn’t mean lingering in the trauma or conforming to society’s views on what a person who has had those experiences should behave like. You need to reclaim your body. You’ll find no judgment from me—ask for what you want and need. Do not feel ashamed of your desire, feel empowered. Healing isn’t a linear process. Expect to get up some days like it just happened, and others like it was years ago. Grieve, get angry, rage, process the loss of the woman you were before, but celebrate the woman you have become.”
“How can I claim it when I freak out just at the feel of a man’s cock?”
“I think you’re freaking out at the unknown, because you have no idea how sex is going to feel. That’s the fear talking. You have options.”
“Yeah, become a nun.”
I snort. “Sure, that’s an option. Others include breaking your hymen with your fingers or a toy, trusting someone else to do itwith the same, or through penetration with a man. I don’t think it’s a penis you fear, but the act itself, and whether it will still be something you enjoy.”
“You’re right.” She squirms in my arms, and the comforter falls off her shoulders, revealing her body.
“What are you doing?” I grumble, keeping my eyes on her face so my body doesn’t get any bright ideas about persuading her to trust us. She has to come to that conclusion on her own.
