Chapter 16
Sixteen
ANDREA
When I was thirteen, I signed a contract in blood.
Girls in the congregation whispered about it, but I always assumed it was a myth until the night red stained my underwear.
St. Gemma’s and Kingsbury only offered minimal Sex-Ed.
No one explained to me that a menstrual cycle was completely normal.
Terrified and in pain, I ran to my parents' room in tears, begging for a doctor.
Instead, they sat me down at the dining room table with a piece of paper, a needle, and a small wooden box.
“The day has come,” My father said in the stern tone reserved for sermons. “You’ve crossed into womanhood. Your mother will instruct you on how to handle the Curse of Eden every month. And now, as every woman in our congregation must, you will pledge your purity to our Lord until you’re married.”
That contract lives somewhere in my parents’ bedroom, a floor below where I currently lie in the bathtub. A boom of thunder rattles the walls, the lights flickering. I lift my left arm from the soapy water, rivulets racing over the tiny white scar on my wrist in the shape of a cross.
“You will wear this symbol on your flesh as a reminder of the pact you’ve made this day with God, Our Father.”
I trace the cross with my finger. A reminder that I gave myself wholly over to a God who never listens. Who punishes us for the way he created us. Who demands everything in exchange for salvation. What is salvation worth if the only ones receiving it are those hurting others?
Maybe… I don’t want to be saved anymore.
The cheap shaving razor finds its way into my hand. I break the plastic frame, wiggling out one of the thin silver strips. Rest my wrist on the porcelain edge of the tub, exposing the cross.
Sharp metal kisses my skin.
A bead of red.
I drag a slash diagonally through the intersection of the cross, first right, then again from the left. Fresh blood seeps from the X, following gravity’s pull into the water. Each drip blooms pink before dissipating.
Free.
Discarding the razor, I submerge my arm again. Another crack of thunder— louder this time. But all I hear is Cade whispering in my ear.
When you’re alone at night, do you close your eyes and imagine he’s with you?
My eyes close.
That the hands running over your body belong to him?
My fingers skim my hip bone.
That it’s his fingers pleasuring you until you can’t hold off anymore…
My nipples tighten into peaks, poking through the water’s surface. Cool air sends zips through my breasts, headed down. The pads of my fingers dance across my lower belly, tentative and shy. Anticipation winds a coil within.
The tiniest brush at the apex of my thighs— they part, making room. These fingers aren’t mine anymore as they lightly explore the delicate, sensitive area. Tingles erupt at every slight touch, emboldening me to swirl.
My lips part on a gasp.
Another pass.
Oh, this is what I’ve been denied. I can’t stop the movements, circling and rubbing faster over that spot, increasing the pulling sensation I’m driven to chase. The water sloshes— my hips rolling into it now, little pants huffing through my parted lips.
Good. It feels too fucking good. I don’t even know if it can get better, but somehow it does. A whimper claws out of my throat. I bite my lip, struggling to keep the sounds inside.
I don’t want the delicious torture to end.
Seba’s large callused hands flash behind my eyes. Then Cade’s wicked tongue.
I can’t take it anymore. It’s too much— almost painful.
The rubber band snaps.
A tidal wave crashes.
Endless pulses of pleasure. Falling into an abyss. Even as feeling returns to my limbs, my heart slamming in my chest, I’m already winding myself up again like my hand has been possessed.
One taste of the forbidden… and I’m addicted.