Placing the water bottle down, I command my fingers to obey as they wrap around his. Blaine hesitates for a second then squeezes my hand in gratitude.
“When I was a teenager, the punishments began. Light beatings at first before he graduated to knives and cigarettes, using my body as a blank canvas for his violence. That idolisation turned to terror, then later… hatred.”
My molars grind together. “You were just a kid.”
“But old enough to understand real evil.”
Bitterness spreads in his voice like a viral contagion. I hold my tongue, giving him time to choose how much to share.
“I started searching for the woman who birthed me.” His words are barely audible. “I don’t know what I was looking for. A better parent, perhaps. One who didn’t hurt me quite as much.”
“Did you find her?”
“No.” The denial is strained, hesitant. “Just whispers of a young girl he purchased then left pregnant. Once she birthedhis heir, he sent her back to her masters. I don’t know if she survived.”
Horror holds me hostage. For all those years he spent under his father’s thumb, Blaine refused to dabble in the skin trade. Little did anyone know, it was because his own mother was a victim.
“I know what you’re thinking.” He looks down at our entwined hands. “Why stay after that?”
The memory of his marked body flashes through my mind. Years’ worth of abuse and torture. There’s no way I’m questioning his choices. He’s a survivor too.
“If I left the family business, no one would’ve stopped my father. I had to work from the inside to keep trafficking off our books… Though I failed at that too.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Blaine.”
“Tell that to all the women and girls he’s hurt on my watch.”
“He was hurting you too,” I say gently.
“I was weak. I failed to stop him.”
“You did the best you could.”
“It wasn’t good enough,” he snaps.
“You’re talking to someone who willingly fought for her captors pretty much on a daily basis for six years. Did that make me weak or a failure?”
“No!” Blaine turns to hit me with a glare. “Of course not.”
“Then extend yourself the same grace. You survived hell.”
“You don’t understand. It’s different.”
“How?” I take in a deep breath, hoping it will ease the pain drilling into my skull.
“I wasn’t a prisoner.”
“He beat you? Tortured you? Made you do things against your will?”
Blaine doesn’t immediately reply, uncertainty dancing in the sapphire flecks deepening the cavernous fissures in his eyes. I’mgoing to split them wide fucking open. Enough is enough. Now that I’ve glimpsed the real Blaine Madden, I want to pull that broken child into the light.
“Whatever you’re getting at…”
“He carved you up like meat and burned your skin when you disappointed him. Do you hear how that sounds? And you want to tell me you weren’t a prisoner too?”
“I had the chance to leave.” His tongue flicks out to nudge his lip piercing.
“So do plenty of victims.”
