Page 87 of Reckoning

He plants another.

And another.

He’skissingmy scars. Kissing all those awful reminders. All those words they carved into my flesh.

“What, what are you doing?” I stammer.

“You have the body of a warrior. You bear the scars of so many battles.” He says meeting my gaze. “Someone should give your body the honour it deserves.”

My tears erupt out of me. I wipe one away but another takes its place. “I’m not a warrior.” I whisper. Warriors are brave. Warriors are courageous. I’m a coward. A pathetic, weak, useless person who couldn’t even save themselves.

He soothes me, he brushes away my tears with his thumb as my sobs grow louder.

“It’s over.” He murmurs. “They can never hurt you again.”

“It’s not.” I reply. “It’s not over. As long as my body carries these scars, as long as my head remembers, I will always be there, in that room, trapped.”

He growls, “That’s not true. You might not forget but you can move past this. You can reclaim everything they stole from you.”

I shake my head because that sounds as possible as me sprouting wings and flying to the moon.

“Sofia, it just takes time.”

“It has been time.” I snap. “It’s been over a year.”

“And maybe it will take longer, maybe it will take five years, ten even. But one day you will wake and you will realise that you are free, that they hold no power over you.”

God, how I wish that was true.

“What if I don’t?” I murmur. “What if I can’t ever…” I trail off, dropping my gaze, shame erupting in my cheeks as I ask the question I’ve been so afraid of.

“Can’t what?”

I don’t answer. I don’t say it. But he knows, I can tell he knows. Will he renegade on our deal now that he has confirmation the goods are faulty?

“Otto wasn’t your first.” He says. “But you didn’t have much experience before that, did you?”

I shake my head. By the time I was interested in sex, Verona was a snake pit. I didn’t trust anyone. I slept with one boy, one person who pretended to like me then ditched me soon after he got in my pants. It was a brutal lesson at the time but one I needed to learn.

Koen leans me back, stroking my hair. “I should be more gentle with you.” He murmurs.

“No,” I almost shout the word. “I don’t want that, I don’t…” I clench my fists, pushing him away. “I’m not a victim. I’m not that girl anymore. I don’t want you to treat me like I’m broken. I want to be normal. Please, even if you have to force me, please...” My words die as my cheeks burn. I don’t even know how to explain what I want. I just know I want this, whatever Koen is offering, I want his touch, his hunger, I want him to claim me without second-guessing my reactions, without constantly holding back.

Christ, I really do have something wrong with me, don’t I?

He frowns, his eyes turning from sympathy to something else I can’t quite read. “Fine,” He says, pulling me around, yanking on the straps of my bikini so that it pings loose.

I know I should cover myself. My head is telling me that. That I’m a slut. And a whore, and everything my dear dead husband called me. But I don’t. I sit there, topless, letting him look his fill.

His hand cups my breast. I jolt a little but I keep myself upright.

“We’re going to fatten you up a bit.” He states. “Get these back to their full fat goodness.”

I blink, biting my tongue. Am I too skinny for his tastes then, is that it?

He pinches my nipple, not hard, but enough. “Do you like pain?” He asks.

I should say no. After everything I’ve been through I should really say no. “Sometimes.” I whisper.

---