Page 20 of Vain
She sniffs but doesn’t speak. After a little while, she relaxes into me completely.
We lie like that in the dark for over an hour, finding comfort in each other. Just when I think she’s dropped off to sleep, she starts talking.
“The helmet and gloves protected my face and hands, but the tank top I was wearing did nothing to protect the rest of me.” She pauses to catch her breath.
I hold still and wait for her to continue.
“At first, I didn’t understand what was happening. The pain was excruciating, like nothing I’d ever felt before in my life. The way I stood meant the set itself shielded my back, but it wasn’t enough. The acid quickly covered my shoulder and arm. There was so much panic and confusion. Someone tore my tank top away to help, but it exposed me even more. It ran down the side of my stomach and drenched the top of my leggings. It soaked through the thin material, burning my upper thigh and hip. Someone picked me up and threw me into the shower in my trailer. I don’t really remember much after that. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness until a week later when I woke up in the hospital. The doctor said if they hadn’t kept me in that shower the whole time they waited for the paramedics to arrive, the damage would have been even more extensive. Untreated acid burns eat through the layers of skin, all the way down to the bone in some cases. I keep telling myself I was lucky, but it doesn’t keep the nightmares at bay.”
I roll us until our positions are reversed, and I’m lying over her. “Fuck, I don’t even know what to say.”
She shrugs, but she won’t meet my eye. “There’s nothing to say. It’s fucked-up. But I’m still here, still alive, and I know itcould have been worse. The seventeen-year-old girl I mentioned has extensive facial scarring and lost vision in her right eye. She has life-changing injuries, Aiden. I have no right to sit here and complain when?—”
“Fuck that. You have every right. You’re as much a victim as she was. You can’t compare your pain to hers and vice versa. Trauma is trauma. There is no sliding scale. You’re either a survivor, or you’re dead.”
She blows out a shaky breath before looking up at me with wet lashes. “My therapist says what I went through makes me as much of a victim as them. Perhaps even more so because I hold onto so much guilt, knowing I was the target and they were hurt because of me.”
I’m about to correct her, but she shakes her head. “I’m working on it. Logic is not always my friend.”
I skim my thumb across her cheekbone. She tenses and swallows. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispers as she turns away.
I cup her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Fuck that. I’m exactly where I need to be.” I kiss her softly but pull back before I can deepen it. “My reaction downstairs that day was not because your scars grossed me out. It’s because I was angry that someone hurt you, and I could have lost you before I even knew you were mine.”
“I’m—”
“You’re mine,” I repeat. “Don’t doubt that for a single second. I don’t care if this is fast and reckless. I felt the connection between us the second I laid eyes on you. I’ve been going out of my mind the last few days without you. I know it’s not normal. I just don’t care. I’m not sure I believe in shit like destiny or fate, but I wholeheartedly believe I’m here for a reason.”
“To guard me?”
“To claim you.” I nip her lip before lifting my head and staring down into those confused and wary eyes. “I don’t know how this will work, but we’ll figure it out.”
“How can you be so sure?” she whispers, with something like hope and fear in her eyes.
“I don’t know, but I am.”
She sighs but doesn’t say anything else, even though I can read a million questions on her lips.
“Let me get you ready for bed.”
I get up onto my knees and hook my fingers in the waistband of her sweatpants before she realizes what I’m doing.
She grabs my hands to stop me. “I can’t. I’m not?—”
“You’re perfect. Nothing is going to happen, not tonight. But you’re exhausted, and I want to hold you.”
“Aiden,” she pleads as I tug the material lower, her cheeks red with embarrassment.
“Let me see. Trust me, Tilly.”
It takes her a moment or two, but eventually, she moves her hands away, which I take as permission. She looks away as I slowly tug the material down her legs before tossing it aside.
As she said, the scarring is contained to her thigh and hip. I can see she’s had some skin grafts to help minimize the damage, but there is only so much that can be done for this kind of scarring.
I bend down and press my lips to her thigh, making her jolt and gasp in shock.
“You have no reason to be worried, Tilly. I promise.”
I pull her up into a sitting position. I raise her arms before slowly sliding her T-shirt up her body. She tenses, but it doesn’t stop me as I toss the T-shirt to the floor. I ease the straps of her bra down her shoulders, dragging my fingertip across her damaged skin, before reaching around, unhooking it, and slipping it the rest of the way off. She bows her head as I pressanother kiss to the worst of the scarring on her shoulder. I nudge her to lie back down as I trail my lips down her arm to her wrist before lifting her hand and pressing a kiss on her palm.
