Page 22 of Break

Knox finally comes back in to finish his checkup. He watches me, glowering at me, seeming larger and larger with every breath he takes.

He snarls at me. “You couldn’t just check a fucking box, Hope?”

I sigh. “It’s my job,” I whisper.

“Really? Because I remember when you’d just lie back and take it,” he snarls. “When you knew what it meant to be a good girl.”

I flinch at the comment, but he’s too busy playing with his shirt to notice, not that he’d care, anyway. He takes a slow breath and rolls his neck. I see a flash of something like apprehension in his eyes before he covers it with fury.

He grabs the back of my neck and the air leaves my lungs. I struggle, trying to pry myself from his touch. I know he’s pissed, but his fingers don’t hurt so I stop struggling and stare up at him. Hishand is so warm, and his gaze is so intense. But it’s not anger, I realize. It’s something else.

“You keep your fucking mouth shut about everything you see and everything we talk about in here. Do you understand?”

I nod as best I can, but Knox taps my lips with his other hand. “Words, sweetheart.”

I gulp. “I promise. I understand. It’s private. I can’t talk about anything with a patient,” I whisper.

He takes a breath and releases me. He rips off his shirt, then kicks of his shorts, revealing tight blue boxers that barely cover his ass.

But it’s not the boxers that grab my attention. It’s the scars. So many. They’re small, circular, but all over his chest, his abs, his thighs. Where there aren’t burns that are obviously from a cigarette, there are scars that are from cuts and areas of discolored skin on his side, then his back.

I shudder as I see a jagged scar over his shoulder blade right by a cluster of cigarette burns. I close my eyes a moment, like I can feel his pain. There’s another patch of discolored skin. It looks red, but it’s not a birthmark. I know the difference.

This was a bad burn, like oil or boiling water.

I almost touch him. “Who did this, Knox?”

He grumbles something, but I can’t make it out. He grits his teeth as I continue my check. I’m afraid to ask for some things, but I go through the questions about past muscular, joint, and bone injuries that are recent.

We continue with the check, then I caress his back, my fingers barely touching him as I stroke over his scars and skin. I slowlycircle back to his front and find him staring at the wall behind me instead of at me.

His jaw shakes slightly, but he grits his teeth harder. His jaw tightens and the muscles in his throat move. I touch a curved scar over his pec. It reminds me of the one he gave me.

I slowly pull my hand back and look up at him as his eyes finally drop to mine.

“Is this why you did it to me?” I ask as I rub between my breasts, on the mark he left that night.

He jumps up, pulls his shirt on, and straightens it over his abs. He grabs his pants and jerks them on too, hiding every bit of past pain. “Are we done?”

I open my mouth, wanting answers, wanting this chance to know him even though he’s the last person I should care about. I click my teeth shut and finally nod.

Knox doesn’t even look at me. He just storms out, leaving the door open.

My hand keeps rubbing my chest, thinking of the same mark on him. Was he… trying to do something by marking me like that? I don’t understand. I feel for him, can’t imagine the pain of each scar on his body.

But now I know why he blindfolded me that night. I also know what it’s like to havethatto go home to.

Which brings back the anger. Heknowswhat abuse feels like. He knows the kind of pain that can happen at home. He knows what it feels like to be powerless, to be hurt, to be harmed by someone who has access to you in the most intimate way.

And he still did it to me.

He still hurt me and he still ignored what was obvious. My anger and guilt and empathy all swirl around me. It all sinks deeper into my skin. I don’t know how to organize my thoughts. I want to feel bad for him. I want to care, but… but how can I when he knew the signs, he knew the pain, and he still…

“Why does this just keep getting more complicated?” I hiss into my hands.

Twelve

KNOX

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