Page 43 of Heal Me

Dorin even starts taking me to a workout room, where he drills me on the treadmill until my legs ache and I’m begging for a pause. The first few times, it doesn’t take long to reach that point. Having been confined to a small cell for weeks, maybe even months, my body is weak and tired, but despite the slow progress, the exercise works wonders on both my mind and body.

I find myself growing more and more attached to Dorin, and I feel him doing the same with me. But no matter how much affection he shows me, I can’t shake an ominous feeling gnawing deep in my gut. Deep down, I know there’s no good end to this. I try not to think too much about it, but one day when we’re lying in my cell after electrotherapy, Dorin asks a question that opens the gate to a well of worry and fearful questions.

“Do you still want to die?”

I consider it for a few quiet minutes. I have barely even thought about it for a long time.

Dorin has breathed new hope into me. He has sparked a desire that blooms and grows and craves more of the warped brand of pain and protection he offers. He has shown me that there’s more to life than the struggle to stay alive.

Sinking deeper into him, I breathe in his scent and press my hands to his strong chest. “No,” I say.I want to stay with you.

I don’t dare to say those last words, afraid they’ll ruin the moment as he hugs me closer and peppers tiny kisses onto my hair.

But as the quietness descends anew and my thoughts keep skipping down that dangerous lane, the anxiety grows, and I have to know.

“Do you still plan on selling me?”

I hold my breath as I wait for his response, the hope that he’ll say no growing.

When he curves his wide palm around the back of my head and presses a long, tender kiss to my hair, I think he’ll give me the answer I’m hoping for. But once again, everything comes crashing down—with one little word.

“Yes,” he says.

My heart contracts, and a feverish rush of cold shudders through me. “What? Why?” I finally manage. “I thought—” I push out from him, needing some distance as he breaks my heart.

“That’s why I brought you here,” he explains, like it’s a given.

My lips part and close as I try to say something, but a lump has lodged in my throat, blocking all sound. I thought things had changed. All those things he said and did… That I belong to him. That he’d protect me. I thought he wanted me.

Turning away from him, I wipe at my teary eyes as humiliation twists within my gut. I feel so damn stupid for thinking something had changed. I know why Dorin brought me here. I know he’s not a good person. I know he’s a lone wolf who thrives on pain and brutality. Yet somehow, I convinced myself that he could change for me.

He lifts his hand to stroke my hair, but I jerk away from him. Suddenly, I can’t bear to be near him. It’s too painful. “Then sell me,” I say, fighting off the pressing tears. “Sell me or kill me.”

“I can’t kill you,” he says, a grave tone making his voice deepen.

“Then sell me,” I say, recklessly hoping it will push him to choose something entirely different that I almost don’t dare hope for.

Regret tightens his voice. “I’m not ready.”

“Then keep me,” I say, holding my breath as I realize this has been my greatest wish for a long time. Maybe even before Jancrushed my world, and maybe even despite the betrayal I felt at Dorin afterwards.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” I ask, even knowing it’s useless.

“I don’t know how.” Confusion morphs into determination as he adds, “I don’t want a girl.”

“Not even me?” I shouldn’t have asked the question, because the lump in my throat expands, and tears pool in my eyes as I turn and see the answer on his face. He doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s clear—at some point, he made the decision to be alone, and not even the bond that has grown between us can change that.Ican’t change that.

I want to cry. Sink into deep despair and let him mend the brokenness like he’s done so many times before as I wept in his arms. But I can’t do it. Not this time. Because this time, he’s the one to have caused that bone-deep hurt. So I turn the hurt into anger.

“Then sell me,” I snap, sitting up and scooting away from him. “Just fucking sell me.”

He reaches for me, but I rip my arm out of his grip. “Sell me,” I demand. “If you won’t keep me, then get it over with.”

He sits up too, and when he reaches for me again, I start hitting him. First, I only use my flat palms on his arms, but when he tries to pull me into him, I curl them into fists and bang away at his chest.

“Just sell me, goddammit. If you don’t want me, then get rid of me.”

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