Page 96 of The Lies That Shatter
I keep my eyes closed as I throw the fabric to the floor. Cool air hits my body, and I know I’m not wearing a bra. Not wanting to stand still for too long, I quickly slide my shorts off too,until I’m standing here completely exposed—in more ways than I would like.
I can’t bring myself to look at his reaction, so I listen out for any clues. Even though the logical side of my brain knows he won’t do it, the side of me consumed by darkness still expects to hear laughing, or the sound of him screaming as he runs away. Yet… I hear nothing.
The silence permeates the air, and after what feels like ages, it becomes a little deafening. I can’t even hear him shuffling on the bed. It reaches the point where I can’t stand still; I find myself placing all my weight on one leg then the other, which makes me look like I’m rocking from left to right.
Though I can’t hear anything, and my eyes are still firmly clamped shut, I can feel his eyes on me. I don’t know how to explain it other than saying that my skin feels like it’s tingling. I can almost describe the exact journey his eyes take over my body, as he leaves a little trail of heat behind him. For the first time since that day, I can…feel…and I feel alive.
After what seems like forever, I know he’s not going to say anything. He’s waiting for me to build up the confidence I need to open my eyes. Finn has always had a thing about me looking at him when he tells me something important. Because he’s an expert liar, it’s easy to think he’s not being honest, but he knows when I look into his eyes, I’ll be able to see the truth.
I’ve always known he wouldn’t lie to me unless he really had to, but with something like this, I worry that he will simply tell me what he thinks I want to hear, rather than the truth. He’s refusing to speak until I give him eye contact. So I can see his truth…no matter how painful it may be.
Remembering the calming exercises I’ve been trying to practise, I count in my head, taking a breath with each number. It would be so easy right now to retreat back into my sanctuary, to hide from the situation, but I meant what I just said.
If Finn truly intends on staying by my side, I don’t need a sanctuary in my mind to keep me safe, not when I have him. He’s always been my safety blanket, and now there’s a good chance he might be my home. I just need to open my eyes and find out.
Despite the fear that’s threatening to overwhelm me, I open my eyes. Finn is sitting exactly where I left him, looking almost like a statue on the edge of the bed. Only he doesn’t look frozen. He’s completely relaxed, more so than when I first walked in. So, I slowly raise my gaze to meet his.
As soon as I catch sight of his beautiful blue eyes, the intensity that is shining back at me catches me off guard. He’s not looking at me with repulsion, sadness, or pity. He’s gazing at me the same way he always does; like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world. The fire I’m so used to seeing burning bright in his eyes is still there, only now the passion seems so much more intense. His pupils are blown, making his eyes darker than normal.
I draw in a ragged breath, consumed by the heat in his gaze. It’s been over a month since he last looked at me like this. Since before I was taken. And if I’m being honest, this is the look I thought I’d never see again. I told him my fear stemmed from the scars, that I was worried he would find them ugly, but the truth was so much worse than that.
He knows about what Whitlock did to me, the way he sexually abused me. I saw how broken he looked when he found out. The cold, distant look I’d seen in his eyes as he listened to the story cut me worse than anything Whitlock ever did to me. I thought that after everything I’d been through, I was tainted. That Finn wouldn’t want to be with someone who had experienced that kind of trauma.
I know logically there’s no way it could be seen as cheating, but that doesn’t change how I felt. I was ashamed, humiliated,degraded. But more than that, I felt dirty. Like I would never be clean again.
Why the hell would Finn want to be with someone who had been used in that way? Someone who wasn’t strong enough to fight back!
Those thoughts echoed around my brain for weeks, swirling amongst the darkness, reminding me that I’m no longer the same person I was. Until Finn, I was a virgin. I’d had a couple of fooling around experiences with guys over the years, but nothing serious. He got all my firsts, and I liked the fact he was the only guy I’d ever been with. And even though Whitlock didn’t get a chance to rape me himself, I still feel like what he did changed me. I can no longer say Finn is my only one, and that broke my heart.
Now that my eyes are open, I see Finn moving. He shuffles to the very edge of the bed, so his legs are hanging to the floor straight in front of me. His eyes are level with my belly button, but he lifts his head so he can maintain eye contact with me.
At first, I think he’s going to reach out to me, but he quickly pulls his hands into fists and clamps them by his side. It’s almost like he’s afraid to touch me…and I understand. I’ve done nothing but push him away, and I’ve made it very clear—other than when he’s holding me through my nightmares—I don’t want to be touched. But that was before. Now I want anything he’s willing to give.
He looks at me, the ghost of a smile pulling up the sides of his lips, but he says nothing. He knows this moment is for me, and he’s giving me the time I need.
“I need you to say something, Finn,” I confess. My heart is racing as I wait for him to be honest with me, and I’m not sure I can take much more silence.
“Can I touch you?” he asks unexpectedly. “I don’t mean sexually.” He adds on the last part when he sees my eyes widen in shock.
The shock wasn’t that he asked me; it was because, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to let him touch me…everywhere. I’ve been starved of his touch for too long. The thought of doing anything sexual after what happened is scary, but this is Finn. He would never hurt me.
I nod my head. “Yes,” I say, without even the slightest shake to my voice.
He shuffles closer and slowly reaches out to rest both of his hands on my hips. As soon as his palms make contact with my skin, I gasp. He feels so warm and safe, and I want to yell at myself for not allowing him to do this before.
His fingers are soft and gentle, and at first, he just uses his hands to pull me closer, until I’m standing between his legs. I’m so close I can feel his breath against my stomach, and shivers erupt across my skin like goosebumps.
With slow, lazy movements, he trails his fingers across my stomach, around my belly button, before moving up my ribs. I don’t need to look to know when he reaches one of my scars. I know exactly where they are. I expect him to avoid them, but he doesn’t. He trails his fingers over them like they’re not even there.
The sensation when he touches the scar is weird. I don’t quite have full feeling back, after the nerves were damaged, but his touch makes me feel more alive than I have in so long.
“When I look at you, do you know what I see?” he asks, his voice deep and gravelly, as he continues to trace his fingers lazily across my body.
I shake my head, but he waits for my words. “No.”
His face lights up in a smile, that cocky smirk he reserves just for me, and until that moment, I didn’t know just how much I needed to see it.
“I see a strong, confident, badass woman, who has been through more in her short life than most people. I see a fighter, a warrior who has survived more battles than just the most recent one. The scars you wear now are the ones that worry you the most, but they’re not the only ones on your body. You have so many scars that tell the story of who you are,” he explains.
