Present
“They put me through two different rooms after that.” Oliver’s grip tightens with every detail, every confession I force out of myself. “I was so scared,” I whisper.
Oliver turns me around to face him. I didn’t even realize I looked away, lost in the memories. He’s visibly shaking with restraint. “I wish I could bring them back and kill them myself. How they died was easy in comparison to what I would’ve done.”
“Charmer…” I mutter, forcing a smile.
He shakes his head before swallowing. “Did they do a…a rape kit?”
“When I woke up, yes. They said it was lube and nothing else was found…They thought I…” I sniff and look away.
I’m not ashamed of what happened to me. I don’t remember it, only small bits and pieces.
A part of me is glad I don’t remember. If I did, I don’t know how I would have been able to come back and face him here.
“Had sex with someone who wasn’t Blaine and was ashamed. ”
“Fucking damn it.” Oliver steps back. I let my words sink in because, even though it is hard for me, I could only imagine what hearing this is doing to him.
His head snaps toward me before he steps into my space. “Lyra in the shower, when I—” He looks like he’s going to be sick.
I shut him down immediately. “No. That was nothing like what happened to me. In the moment, I might not have wanted it—but I did. My body was screaming, even as my mind fought it. I won't say you did nothing wrong because you did, and that can't change, but it was not like what Leo did to me.”
“You said you didn’t know how many people you were with.” His voice is a soft caress in the space between us.
“Yeah, I…” I look away, but a gentle finger on my chin makes me look back at Oliver.
“I don’t care about anything before us. No, that’s a lie.” His brow furrows. “I do care, but I’ll never hold it against you.”
“I used sex in a way to regain control. It’s why my feelings toward you were so confusing because the last year of my life, I never even felt anything for anyone.”
“You were just waiting for me.” His thumb finds the faint scar low on my stomach. “This is the last mark they put on you. There won’t be another.”
“From the mirror room,” I admit. “I shattered the glass and cut myself.”
He nods once, like that’s a fact to file, then places his hand over my stomach. “How did you get out of the mirror room?”