Page 85 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

I stand slowly, then back toward the door. "I'll be right across the hall," I tell her softly. "Anything you need, please tell me. I'll—"

A tremor runs through her shoulders as more sobs slip out.

Stop talking. Just give her space.

I shut my mouth, giving her a second to respond. She doesn't; she doesn't even look up. Londyn starts rocking, arms wrapped around herself like she's holding all her broken pieces together through sheer force of will.

As I step into the hallway and close the door behind me, my world collapses inward. Londyn's pain, and my helplessness in the face of it, threatens to crush me.

I stand there, my forehead pressed against her door, consumed by a hatred so pure it leaves room for nothing else.

Someday, I will find Alan Miller. And when I do, he'll wish he'd never laid eyes on Londyn Seever.

Chapter 26

LONDYN

MY FACE IS STILL BURNING with shame. It kept burning in my dreams, forcing me awake. Now it's 2:37 AM and I'm in my bed with a mind that's a jumbled mess.

Raven is also here, virtually, trying to stop me from unraveling further.

"It's not your fault, love," she coos. It's daytime in Melbourne, so her apartment glows around her as she adds, "None of this is your fault."

The light from my laptop screen cuts through the darkness of my bedroom, casting harsh shadows across the walls. I'm trying to focus on her soothing tone, her words, but I'm lost in memories and images that won't stop playing and rewinding. I feel Sean's lips against mine, how steady and wonderful they felt. There'sthe warmth of his hands, the bulk of his body pressing me into the couch. I felt electric and needy for more.

And then mind-shredding panic. Overwhelming, suffocating terror that made my skin feel borrowed.

Raven's concerned face stares back at me, waiting. She really is lovely. She looks beautiful and whole and unbroken. If only I could just be her, because so often nowadays I don't want to be myself.

I touch my swollen eyes and feel the puffiness from hours of crying. My throat is raw, my chest hollow from scooping out all the emotion. I've been crying so long my body has forgotten how to do anything else, and I'm sure I'm already terribly dehydrated.

I stare at my lovely friend as tears blur my vision again. A question has been burning inside me since I pushed Sean away, searing through every other thought. I've been scared to voice it because what if it's true? What if Raven agrees?

I'm scared, but I need to ask.

"If I like Sean, you know, watching me…" I begin, the words sticking like shards of glass in my throat, cutting me on the way out. "And… I like knowing he's… getting turned on because of me… am I… I mean… does that mean I actually wanted… that when I was assaulted… I liked… I mean, I secretly wanted—"

"Sweetie, no." Raven's voice rises in pitch and her face twists in on itself. She's pissed, but I know it's not aimed at me. Just my thoughts.

I can see tears gathering in her eyes now too. "Lonny… no. Please, please don't think those things. That was not your fault. That man hadno rightto do that."

The dam breaks and I'm sobbing again. My hands shake so badly I have to set the laptop on the bed beside me. I curl around it like it's a safety plushie, like Raven's voice is the only thing keeping me from exploding into a million pieces.

"I wanted Sean to see me," I say through ragged pulls. "I wanted him to want me. What does that say about me, though? About what happened with… that man in the past?"

"It says you're a perfectly wonderful, sexual woman with normal desires," Raven insists, her voice cracking as a tear slips out. She sniffs and wipes her eyes. "You have every right to feel sexy and want a bloke to think about you and desire you. You can want all those things. You can even have fantasies about things being, well, rough. Because sex is fun when you want to share all that with someone you trust, yeah?"

I nod, trying again to absorb her words, but they slide off me like raindrops. The shame burns too hot, too bright. In my head, The Director's voice whispers to me as he restrains me. He tells me that I wanted this since I wore such skimpy clothes. That I knew I was a tease because I was always smiling. If I didn't want it, why did I agree to go to parties with him outside of work?

"You've wanted this all along. Your body was made to be dominated, so you don't need to deny or resist what's completely natural, sweetheart."

"Listen to me," Raven continues, pulling my focus away from a nightmare. She leans closer to the camera, no longer teary but determined. "Having sexy desires doesnotmean that it's okay for a man to assault you. I don't care if you're in the nuddy walking down the street,no onehas the right to touch you without permission. That's why it's a crime. It's a hundred percent that twisted asshole's fault."

I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears. "I know that," I whisper. "In my head, I know. I've spent thousands of dollars on therapy just learning that. But here"—I touch my chest—"This doesn't listen. Why do I still feel like this? Like I did something wrong? Why can't I just be okay?"

The question almost chokes me with its honesty. Years of therapy, of rewiring my head, of carefully rebuilding myself, and one moment of me trying to be sexual again with someone brings it all crashing down.

"I thought I was ready," I continue, lowering my hands to stare at the ceiling. "I really like Sean. He's so considerate and funny and sweet. I've been feeling just fine around him. We've flirted and touched and it's all been fine and I've been craving more. The first kiss was so tender. And… I just thought I was ready."

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