Chapter Thirty
Veronica
Despite showering, I still feel dirty. The sensation of a million insects crawling beneath my skin has me scratching with no ease. Scratching until it burns. Until the sensation of pain is all I can focus on instead of him.
There’s no escaping. I still feel Harry…
smell him on me. It doesn’t help that when I look at my hands, all I see is blood.
His blood. It’s a constant battle with myself, fighting the need not itch my skin as reminders of Harry’s unwanted touch linger.
I try to hold tight to the memories of Iz.
If only I could drown in him. Replace every touch with his. Maybe I can if I try.
If only it were his, the only one I feel.
The one from my very first touch from my very first and only love.
My eyes follow the muscles of Isaac’s back as he slips back into his boxers, the perfect scorpion tattoo illuminated by the fluorescent light of the hospital bathroom.
The dark ink snakes down his taut skin. My fingers itch to trace it every single time it comes into view.
I want to, but instead, my hands lie flat on my chest, feeling the rapid beating coming from within.
My fingers, with a mind of their own, move lower.
Down to my womb, to where a part of each of us comes alive.
The words form in my throat, a lump rolling upwards at rapid speed. It didn’t feel heavy—not this part.
“I don’t know if I want…” I say in a hushed tone, the words fading into silence as the sound of blood rushing to my ears takes hold.
My pulse spikes, as goosebumps slide along the back of my neck.
Isaac freezes in place, his body turning to face me, his hazel eyes meeting mine with a bittersweet smile on his handsome face.
He gives me his full attention, leaving no room for anything else.
There’s a sadness hidden behind the admiration he looks at me with, making my heart squeeze inside my chest. Slowly, he lifts his body to his full height, moving with careful precision…
His words are soft. “It’s okay to feel this way, not want to keep it.
Don’t feel ashamed to tell me how you feel.
I’m with you... It’s your body. Your choice, I’ll support you either way. I could never fault you.”
Isaac moves carefully towards me, his posture asking permission to approach.
I’m rendered speechless by the look in his eyes, the one that tells me I’m not alone.
I’m loved. Leaving no room for misinterpretation.
I’m so transfixed on him that my eyes begin to burn from the lack of blinking.
I take a deep breath in, letting my lungs expand with oxygen.
Of him. The warmth of skin seeps into my brittle, cold bones, sending waves of it through my body.
Sparking nerves to come alive and tingle. I swallow hard, biting my lower lip.
“You’re not upset?”
“Not one bit. I’m with you whether you end the pregnancy or not.
It’s all up to you. I’m just here for you to lean on whichever way you decide to take.
” His hand moves to my cheek, his thumb tracing a small line on my skin.
“What matters is you. Making the choice that feels right for you. Tell me, how are you feeling about all of this?”
“How do I feel? Truthfully, I wouldn’t know.
I barely had any time to process the news myself.
” I take a deep breath before adding, “I don’t know…
I just feel relieved it’s not Harry’s. At the same time, I’m not sure if I’m cut out to be a mother.
When I’m not even sure who I am right now…
” I let out a huff of air, feeling the tears gathering in my eyes.
“I just wish this was something I decided, not something imposed on me. You know?”
Isaac nods, even though his eyes darken, his hold on my cheek becomes possessive as his body tenses at the mention of Harry. Jaw clenching so hard he could break a molar, and still through it all, he holds me. He stays here with me.
“You’re right, it should be that way. This is why your decision matters,” he says, before letting his hand fall from my face and letting out a sigh.
“Whatever you choose to do, just know I’ll support you.
There’s no judgment here.” I furrow my eyebrows as his words sink in, tilting my head to the side.
“I just want to be here for you, in any way I can. I’m here. ”
“I just need time to think,” I whisper, instinctively cradling my stomach. “I don’t know how I feel about it, and I think you should know how I feel.”
He smiles, it is small, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.
It’s more to comfort me. Maybe reassurance and for what it is.
It works. My body instantly relaxes. “Thank you for trusting me with your thoughts.” Isaac’s eyes soften as he reaches for my face and cups it in his hand.
“I love you, Veronica, and I’m here. Always and forever. ”
Those words tug the remaining light left inside me, drawing it out from the eternal wave of darkness threatening to snuff it out.
His golden eyes glisten with tears, and his fingers tremble against my skin.
I can see the internal struggle—the relief that it’s his, but also the fear that it might be too much for me.
The fear that this isn’t real. But it is.
I’m not sure where we go from here. All I know is that tasting Isaac is something I could never go back to not having.
He is the one thing I can’t give up on. My lifeline, and that’s my truth.
I’m tired of living a lie, of living for others.
I want to live to love. More importantly, I want to live for myself.
With a smile and tears falling from my eyes, I say my truth, “I don’t know if I’ll be a good mother.
I’m broken, Iz. I look at my hands and still see his blood… I feel him. I smell him.”
Isaac’s jaw clenches as he takes in my words.
Without thinking or giving me a moment to prepare, his arms snake around me, pulling me into his bare chest. His warmth envelops me like a cozy blanket on a cold, rainy day.
“You’re not broken. You just went through hell, and now you have to pick up the pieces, but you have me even though you don’t need it.
You’re so fucking strong, so fucking strong, my pretty sunflower.
” I let his words wash over me, knowing that he means every bit of it.
Even though I don’t feel that way. Still I cling to his words, needing to believe them.
To feel it. Despite knowing myself, that I’m broken.
I could be optimistic, I know things could get better, but what if they didn’t?
I shake those thoughts away as the darkness begins to take hold, and hold on to this moment.
Right here, I want to be here. Stay here with him.
Not with the memories. Still, the questions claw their way to the forefront of my mind.
Could I bring a child into this world? Into my world?
My eyes burn from the tears beginning to form, my mind drifts to Harry, of the damp, musky smell permeating my skin.
I hate that, despite my desire to heal, to move on, I feel stuck, but I wouldn’t let him see this.
He needs to heal as much as I do. “I’m scared, Iz…
I’m scared to tell my mom… I want this. I want us,” I say.
“And it’s so fucked that it happened this way.
I just wish that our beginning wasn’t tarnished by trauma. ”
Iz’s nose flares. He doesn’t let me finish talking before his lips crash into mine.
His tongue softly demands access to my lips, willingly obeying, allowing him to explore my mouth with a passion that leaves me breathless.
His hands cradle my face with a gentleness that touches my soul.
The kiss breathes life into me, his tongue a soft caress to my soul.
I moan into his mouth, it’s not sexual but something guttural, born from emotion instead of lust. I can feel the warm tears stream down my face before he breaks away, whispering against my lips.
“We’ll figure it out, Ronnie. We’ll face it all together. ”
I bury my face in his chest and breathe him in as his arms hold me tighter. There’s no coming back from the basement… There’s no going back for us. This is my truth… Isaac Vargas is my truth. My beginning and my end.
“I won’t let you do this alone,” he whispers, peppering kisses on the top of my head.
“You got me, girl. All I ask of you is don’t shut me out.
Allow me the honor to be here for you, to hold your hand while you find yourself.
” I melt further into him, needing to feel him close.
I need him. If I loved Isaac before, consider me officially and utterly addicted.
Being with him for weeks, not being able to touch him, not being able to comfort one another…
fuck, it made those years of depriving myself of him seem like nothing.
Not knowing if we would leave that place alive and not being able to hold him made me want it even more.
My heart beats frantically in my chest, my stomach tightens, and bile creeps up my throat.
I hold on tighter. “I’m scared, Iz,” I whisper, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. His arms tighten around me.
“It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay.… Just stay with me, we'll face everything together, even if I have to tear myself apart so you can be whole again.” He whispers into my wet hair, his hands running up my back in a soothing rhythm against the chaos brewing within me.
“You will find your way out of the dark. I promise,” he murmurs into my hair again, his voice vibrating through me like the steady beat of a drum.
“You’ve got me. Even if the world turns its back on us, we have each other.
I love you so fucking much, and if you can’t love yourself, then allow me to love you for both of us, allow me to remind you every day how strong and deserving you are.
Let me give you all the pieces of me. We will get through this. I promise you.”
Call me naive, but I believe him.
Nothing feels safer than his warmth, his arms. Isaac is my silver lining.
I pull away, my fingers reach towards his face, and smile as I trace his jaw.
Something I’ve always wanted to do—just touch him without feeling guilty, to love him without feeling like a sinner.
I tilt my head up to meet his eyes, those soulful orbs that seem to hold a universe of promises just for me.
Pressing a soft kiss on his jaw, I feel the stubble prick against my lips.
Something raw, something precious, strengthens between us.
“Thank you, Iz,” I say, “You’re my strength.
” His nose flares, and one lone tear falls from his eye.
“Impossible… You’re mine. You’re everything…
You saved me… us,” he says as he leans in and kisses me softly.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pull him closer, deepening our kiss because I can.
Because I want to drown in our love… After being locked up in that basement, being raped, not knowing if I would ever experience this love, this connection, or even see my family again.
It broke me. To think for weeks that I could die…
and the last thing I would experience was hopelessness, emptiness, disgust…
Harry’s touch. To be free… I wanted to live, but more than living, I wanted to love.
I wanted to be free to love him. Feeling his warm breath against my face, his hands encasing me as if I were delicate porcelain—it feels like a dream.
But I know it isn’t… he’s real… we’re real.