Page 206 of Doubts & Fears

I closed my eyes at the thought of it. My brain called forth the sound, causing me to shudder. Breaking into a thousand pieces on the inside, I took a deep breath and looked at him. “No, we can’t. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. If this means the Kings won’t touch me ever again, then so be it.”

“Why? Why won’t you trust me?” A sigh escaped him, carrying with it a sense of hurt that ran deeper than I could have expected. The pain etched in his voice, the resulting toll of trying to help, made me feel sick.

“It’s too much, too painful. Some things should be left buried with that little dancing mouse named Mischa. You want me to talk about things that hurt me in places that are so broken.”

“They don’t have to be, though. They can be mended.”

I ignored the plea in his voice and shook my head as the tears coursed down my cheeks. “Not for me. It’s not possible. The reality is I’ve been playing a game. Pretending to be normal, when all along, it’s hopeless. Do what you feel is best. I’ll respect your counsel to the Kings. I’m done fighting.”

The shift happened almost as soon as the words left my mouth. Bone-weary exhaustion set in. My earlier thoughts of staying turned to ashes in my mouth.

Dr. Marcel’s face fell. “Ms. Taylor, please don’t do this.”

“Thank you, Dr. Marcel. There were moments with you that were so helpful to me. I’ll never forget that. Goodbye,” I sobbed, hanging up.

He called back, and I ignored it, then screamed into a pillow. I walked over to Ivan’s room. All my workout clothes were in there. I grabbed them and went back to my room, hopping into the shower. Even though I’d already taken one.

Thinking about being whipped and gagged made me feel dirty. The memories, the words, all of it made me nauseous. The water was hot and painful, but cleansing. I leaned back against the wall and sank down.

They don’t have to be, though. They can be mended.

If only Marcel’s words were true. I chastised myself at how close I had come to really opening up. I never once took into consideration what that knowledge and potential ramifications for the other girls could do.

It wasn’t fair to out them. If I lived with not wanting anyone to know, didn’t they deserve the same respect? It was their story to tell, and though I knew I’d never see them again, it didn’t make it okay.

I couldn’t share and heal all the parts of myself without going there. The tears fell, and I pulled my legs up to my chest. I cried for a thousand different reasons, but the main one was I’d never forget how close to freedom I’d come.

I cried for the Kings and how much I loved them. They’d never know what giving myself to them meant. Having been conditioned for so long that I was an object, that the man who bought me would be my Master, had never left.

Somewhere along the way, I’d put myself together with the wrong glue, and now my cracks were showing. All the healing years with Owen had given me a false sense of security.

How did I get here? How did my resolve crumble so goddamn easily? I was worse off now, having tasted what it felt like to belong to Alek, Nik, and Ivan.

Chapter 66

Ivan

Who Hurt You?

As I walked down the dimly lit hallway, the heaviness in my chest matched the weight of my thoughts. The words Kinsley and I had exchanged had left a sting, a sharp reminder I wasn’t worthy. The hurt and confusion weren’t something I expected, and they tugged at every part of me.

Marcel called and told me she had fired him and refused to take his calls. He was left reeling from the fallout. I had to check on her, make sure she was okay. Her door was closed, and I hesitated for a moment, my hand resting on the doorknob.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open, and the sound of running water from the bathroom echoed through the room. The sounds of muffled sobs reached my ears as I stepped closer, my footsteps drowned out by the sound of her tears.

I called her name several times, but she didn’t answer. She finally noticed me and fought back a scream. Instinctively, she went to cover her naked body. I crouched down, right as she shivered from the coolness of the water. How long had she been here?

“Little love, don’t. You’re okay, it’s just me. I won’t hurt you.”

She looked up, her eyes meeting mine, filled with so much pain that I wanted to run. Words seemed inadequate, so I said nothing. I simply reached out and brushed a strand of wet hair away from her face.

I turned the water off and pulled her from the shower. After wrapping a towel around her, I held her and gently rubbed her arms. She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself, and then pushed me away. I let her go. She ambled out of the bathroom and over to her bed where her workout clothes lay. She pulled them on. My eyes raked over her beautiful body, and I burned for her. With mechanical movements, she brushed her hair and put it up.

We fell into that beautiful silent exchange we had. Taking her hand, I led her to the war room to work out her frustrations. After warming up, I spoke.

“You’ve got six seconds. That’s all it takes to choke someone unconscious. And if you’re unconscious, there’s no telling what a perpetrator could do. So today, we’ll practice breaking out of choke holds.”

She nodded, paying attention. I showed her five different techniques she could fall back on in the event someone choked her. We worked for an hour, and somewhere along the way, her pain and confusion turned to anger.

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