Page 33 of Heal Me

One day when my head does clear enough to remember all the horrors I learned before he plunged my world into a meaningless haze, I ask him about this place of terrors and torment.“Where am I? Tell me the truth.”

He remains silent as he opens the straitjacket and helps me out of it, hoists me into his arms, and brings me out of the cell. “An old castle that’s been renovated to fit another purpose. Ormaybe to once again fit its original one. No one really knows what this dungeon was used for.”

“Selling women? Is that what you do down here?”

“We train and sell them, yes.” He carries me across the hall, and the scanner on the door beeps as it registers his finger.

“How can you even—” I shut my eyes and gulp to swallow the bitterness lodged in my throat. “How can you do such a thing?”

He shrugs. “There’s not much else I know how to do.”

“But—” I trail my gaze over his long scar and empty expression. There’s no use in asking how he can do the despicable things he does and still live with himself. The real question is, why hasn’t he sold me yet? Or why hasn’t he done more to train me? Those last two questions only become more confounding as he lowers me into a tub full of hot water and I look around to see that we’re in a cozy bathroom—shelves on the walls, plants on the counter, and a beautiful chandelier bathing the room in a soft light.

“Why?” I choke out, blinking to hold back the tears forming in my eyes.

Crouching beside me, Dorin brushes the tears from the sides of my eyes. “Let them out.”

I close my eyes hard and ask the question that’s most pressing—the one I’ve been postponing asking, too afraid to know the answer. The one that threatens to break the dam that I refuse to show him again. “Are you gonna sell me?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“To who?”

“I don’t know.”

Everything inside me coils tight, squeezing my chest and making breathing hurt—making living hurt.

“Please kill me,” I say, facing him again even though the tears are now pooling in my eyes. “Please, just do it. Or let me do it myself. Just leave your knife here and leave the room. I promise I’ll go through with it this time. I won’t even make a mess. I’ll hold my wrist underwater. All the blood will remain in the tub.”

Shaking his head, he grabs a sponge and starts washing me.

“Stop. Don’t touch me.” I push at his hand, but I’m still weak, barely managing to put any strength into the movement.

“Just let me take care of you,” he says, continuing the slow motions over my stomach.

“No!” I plunge down, under the water, and grab the edges of the tub for leverage. If he won’t end it or let me do it myself, the water can take me. But once again, I’m too weak. I don’t even get to decide whether I take or continue my own life anymore. He simply grabs me under the arms and pulls me back up.

I flail weakly as he holds me there, one arm banded around my chest as he removes his boots and jeans. The moment he releases me to pull off his T-shirt, I slip under again, but the few seconds it takes him to discard it isn’t even enough to make me feel out of air.

Next thing I know, he’s in the tub with me, stark naked, pulling me into him and trapping me against his body with one massive arm that keeps my arms locked at my sides. I kick in the water, but he simply wraps his legs over mine, and when I start banging my head into his shoulder, he presses his free hand to my forehead.

And that’s it. I’m trapped. Yet I keep struggling, using up what little energy I have left. Once I’ve worn myself out and go limp against him, panting hard, he releases my forehead and grabs the sponge again.

“Please,” I beg in a weak voice.

“Shh, just let me take care of you.”

It’s all so very hopeless, and I can’t stop the tears from trickling down my cheeks. I manage not to make any sounds, but I’m sure he can tell from my shaking chest that I’m crying. I know for sure when he leans in to press tiny kisses to my cheek, absorbing the tears as he goes. The intimacy makes the tears flow faster, dripping into the water.

“That’s it. Give them all to me. Cry for me, my little songbird,” he whispers, reminding me of how Zoltan wanted my tears. The memory gives me the strength to shut them down. I curl in on myself, closing off everything. It takes all I have, leaving me cold, alone, and broken. All I want to do is give in to that gentle touch and those tender kisses—release all the heavy burdens and let him carry them for me. But I can’t. Dorin is just another monster who wants to take everything I have and destroy me. I refuse to give it to him.

***

The days blur together, and my moments of clarity are far apart. I have no idea how long time passes in this stagnant haze. All I know is Dorin coming and going, feeding me, bathing me, drugging me, and restraining me. He’s comforting and caressing me too—I think he might even be touching me sexually and making me come, but I’m never sure whether it’s a dream or reality. I always shut him out when my head is clear enough to think, and no matter the amount of drugs he gives me, I never break down in front of him.

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