‘Within reason.’
‘You want to know or not, dog boy?’
He tugs on my hair again, making me laugh as he chuckles at my insult. He gets a wooden comb and starts brushing the knots from my hair. It feels so relaxing being groomed like this. I could sit here for hours.
‘You have a deal, Pix. Tell me.’
‘My father liked to gamble. He also had a habit of losing.’ I wonder if telling is the right choice. What do I care? There’s no reason to hold it back, and if it gives me something I want in the future, then that’s fine with me. ‘I was seen as something special because of who I was to marry. Debts were often forgiven if I kissed them. Or used my hands on them.’
His hands go rigid and still.
‘Go on.’
‘I’d be saton their lap. Given cuddles. Their hands would wander. And their tongues forced themselves into my mouth. And sometimes, when my father and his friends got bored of cards, they would bet on me. They would lock me in the cellar beneath the house and bet on how long it would be until I pounded on the door to be let out. My father had this great big mirror down there, and the spirits I would see inside it… Gods…’ I sigh. ‘They were so angry… so full of pain.’ My eyes suddenly burn with tears. ‘They had no idea I was screaming because of the spirits. They thought I was claustrophobic or afraid of the dark.’ I look at my fingers. ‘I tore off so many fingernails trying to get out of that room. The marks are still there now, scratches deep in the door. They stopped when I was about fourteen. Got bored, maybe. Or realised that if I told Cole, they’d all be in trouble. The more I screamed, the more they laughed. The more I pleaded to be let out, the longer they kept me down there. So I would hide. There was an old bed down there, and I found that if I got under it, the spirits couldn’t see me. I would curl up and close my eyes. I would cover my ears. And they wouldn’t touch me. I was safe.’
I wriggle, and he continues combing my hair.
‘Does that answer your questions?’ I ask. ‘Are you satisfied, or would you like some more horror stories about my past?’
‘I’m good,’ he replies dryly. ‘You’ve answered my questions.’
‘I hope it was as fulfilling as you hoped.’
He stands and tosses the comb at the wall, shattering it into splinters.
His back faces me as he drags his fingers through his hair, and he takes a few deep breaths. The muscles in his arms are rigid, and when they fall at his side, his fists are clenched so hard I smell blood where his fingernails have dug into his palms.
I guess that sometimes, the truth of a painful past is enough to disturb even the most insane of men. He walks around a little, perhaps thinking on my confessions.
The water is suddenly cold as I remember those nights. Remember who they made me sit on. How they tasted of tobacco and spirits.
How they fed me skullcap wine to keep me compliant and docile.
I look out the window, loathing how I suddenly feel dirty all over. How my skin bristles and panic swells in my chest.
I mean, if a dagger shoved between my legs won’t put them off me, finding out I was used up long before they met me may give them all the nudge to see me for what I am.
A damaged whore.
Maybe then, they will let me go.
The water sloshes as he climbs in behind me. His arms wrap around me as he leans back, pulling me with him and pinning me to his chest. He’s fully clothed, and his skin gets bumpy from the chill of the water. But despite that, he buries his face in my neck and hair as his arms hold me close.
‘I love you.’
‘I told you not to tell me that again.’
‘And I told you that you don’t get a say in that. I know you think I’ll look at you differently. But I won’t. I know apart of you hoped it would make me disgusted and have me looking at you differently. Guess what?’ He leans into my ear and whispers. ‘It made me love you even more because you have been through the nine circles of hell, and you are still fierce, caring, funny and wild.’
‘Stop being nice to me.’
‘I will be needing names, Pix. Of every man who ever laid their hands on you.’
‘I don’t remember.’
‘Yes. You do. And I’ll be getting those names at some point. Every single one.’ His lips kiss my cheek, and he trails his fingers up and down my arms. ‘Thank you for sharing that with me. It can’t have been easy for you.’
‘You didn’t give me much of a choice.’