Page 56 of Did They Break You

My blood runs cold.What?

She picks her head up, hands balled into little fists on her thighs.

“Why did you let them do that?” she asks, her words hoarse, eyes red.

I feel like I’m getting whiplash, the way this conversation—this entire night—is going.Ishould be asking the questions.Ishould be cornering her.

I close the space between us and stand between her thighs.

She doesn’t shy away from me, so I take it a step further. Put my hands on her shoulders.

“Why did you let them hurt me, Cort?” she whispers, tipping her chin up, holding my gaze. Her eyes are red and bleary.

My fingers dig into her narrow shoulders. “Who?” I ask her, knowing the answer. Knowing I can’t think about what Iletthem do without wanting to vomit. No matter that I believe it was consensual, I should have protected her.

Her bottom lip trembles.I want to bite it.I try to push that aside.

But she doesn’t answer me with words. She just flops back on the bed so she’s lying on her back, her arms above her head, eyes closed.

Her hoodie and shirt ride up, exposing a pale patch of skin on her lower belly. I lick my lips, forcing myself to stand exactly where I am.

“Lie with me, Cort,” she says quietly, letting her earlier train of thought go. She twists her head to the side but keeps her eyes closed. “Come lie with me.”

I shake my head. My mouth opens, and I’m about to say it. To say exactly what I should say. But then she crosses her arms over her chest, leans up a little, just enough, and yanks her hoodieandher shirt over her head, dropping it backward, off the other side of the bed.

Then she reaches behind her and unhooks the black studded bra she’s wearing, flinging that off the side of the bed, too.

I can’t move as she lies back down.

Her chest is heaving, her pale pink nipples tight little points, probably from the fan spinning overhead. Her tits are smaller than I remember, which is the first thought I had when I slipped my hand up her hoodie on the sidewalk the other week. But they’re still big enough for me to grab in my hands and…

I run my tongue over my lip ring and think about sucking on them that night. I left bruises. More than just there, but the bite marks were very clear there. My mother was furious.

“You never leave visible marks onanygirl you’re having sex with, Cortland.”

My father said nothing.

Tristan didn’t hear any of that.I never want him to hear any of it.

I push that all aside as Remi’s hands come over her tits and she starts rubbing them. I don’t think she’s trying to be sexy. She doesn’t make a sound, she just seems to like how it feels.

And I know, when she says, “I’m starting my period soon and theyhurt,” she definitely isn’t trying to tempt me, although it is tempting because we know how I like blood.

Seeing her palms squeeze her pale flesh, catching glimpses of her nipples through her slender fingers, my dick is hard all over again.

Then I see something else.

On the inside of her wrist.

It feels like all the air has gone out of the room.

I step closer to the bed and grab her arm, unraveling it from her chest and exposing her tits to me.

But it’s the inside of her wrist I look at as I flip her palm.

I didn’t see them well in the café, but now, underneath the light on above us, they’re very fucking clear.

Vivid red cuts, like they’re fresh.

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