STEPHANIE
THIRTY-SIX
Baring one’s soul is the greatest vulnerability.
I feel him long before I see him.
I curl the thick blanket around me closer and stare at the stunning stars appearing before my eyes as the sun loses its age-old battle with the moon.
A steaming mug appears in front of my face, and the tantalizing mix of chocolate and oranges swirls in the air. I grab it with a smile. He’s even put whipped cream and dark chocolate shavings on top. I take a sip and groan. It’s divine.
“If all else fails, you can have a life as a barista, making hot chocolate that’s like an orgasm in a mug.”
He snorts and drops into the chair beside mine.
The fact that he’s got an identical mug is cute.
For some reason, seeing a grown man who is capable of murdering with his bare hands cradle an over-the-top hot chocolate is doing more for my hyped-up hormones than if he’d decided to perform a one-man Magic Mike act for my eyes only.
“I’ll add that to my résumé,” he says as he tips his head back to stare at the night sky. “It’s so peaceful out here.”
“I agree.”
We sit for a few minutes in silence as we sip our drinks and bask in the calm.
“Do you believe in God?” I wonder.
“That’s a complex question for a boy brought up under the rule of a man who twisted religion in order to control and punish, and who built a warped world that satisfied his sick fantasies and need for power.”
I can’t imagine everything he’s experienced. It’s terrifying.
“Do you?” he asks.
My lips curve. “I believe in a higher power. Does one religion fit? Not that I’ve found yet.” I sigh. “But there are too many things in this world that show the hands of design instead of coincidence not to contemplate another force at work.”
“It’s weird that I’m jealous of those who find comfort in prayer and the notion that everything happens for a reason,” he says. “I can’t get behind that when I’ve seen so many acts of horror enacted without any other reason than to serve the sickness that thrives in pain.”
“Maybe it’s to build warriors to combat it on a larger scale.”
“Too much suffering.”
I can hear the pain in his words, practically taste it, and it’s the first time he’s started to open up about his world. The one not out here on a mountain with scatterings of snow. It gives me the courage to share my own horrors.
“When I left for college, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to major in. There are too many things to learn, to absorb. I love learning, whether it be a musical instrument, the inner workings of the classics, or the real-world application of decision mathematics.”
“What is decision mathematics?”
How to explain to someone who has never attended a lecture or studied the course book?
“You know when you put a location into your sat nav and it reads the route, checks for things like accidents, road closures, etcetera... and then gives you options? Or when someone puts in to avoid freeways or back roads? That’s a decision math algorithm.
It can even help with things like crowd control at a music festival, where to put the portable bathrooms, and how many you need. ”
“And you studied that?”
“Alongside Dickens and Bronte, yes.” I swipe up a dollop of cream stuck to the bottom of the mug with my finger and pop it in my mouth. “I kept to a small circle of friends. We didn’t get involved in parties, preferring marathon nights with a guilty pleasure TV show and snacks.”
“Now that I can see. You haven’t changed much.”
I blink at the sudden sting in my eyes. “Some days, I don’t recognize myself in the mirror.
Logically, on the outside, I look mostly the same.
” The tingling on my wrists is a reminder of the one physical change that’s going to be with me for life.
“But the girl who went to college with dreams got destroyed, and it’s her that I found in my reflection for years.
At one point, all the mirrors were removed from my bedroom. It would send me off the deep end.”
“And now?”
I tilt my head back and close my eyes. “It’s still a struggle, but I no longer run from it. I’ve learned to love the new me. Fuck anyone who isn’t willing to learn who I am today.”
“I agree. Fuck them.”
“But while they took something from me that night, an innocence, the way I looked at the world without shadows, the charmed life that was written in my future—it was those who were meant to love me unconditionally and protect me who failed.”
“Hunter?”
I shake my head. “My brother was stationed overseas. He had no idea what had happened. My parents, though.” I take a moment to acknowledge the emotional wound that still, after all these years, hurts because it was my family who broke me.
“I did everything right. When I got back to my dorm room, my best friend took me straight to the hospital. Evidence was collected, photographs were taken, and the police were called. It was a terrifying whirlwind, and I needed a breath to understand what had happened.”
“What happened?”
I grind my teeth together at the memory. “The first thing they did was bundle me into their car, admonish me for contacting people outside of our circle for help. I felt ashamed, like I’d failed them. They dropped me back at my dorm with the clear instruction to shut up, put up, and grow up.”
“Fucking hell.”
Here goes the hard part. “I lost it. Blacked out. And the next thing I knew, I was standing trembling in my dorm room with a knife hanging from my hand like some horrific version of Groundhog Day. Except this time, it wasn’t my blood in my hair, streaked on my skin, and stained on my clothes.”
The silence is heavy, but not judgmental. “They got what they deserved.”
“But I didn’t.”
“They hurt you, sweetheart. Trust me, they would have continued to do that to many more.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I got revenge on one before my parents scooped me up out of college and locked me inside my bedroom with nothing but the maid for company a couple of times a day. They swept everything under the rug—the attack, the rape, and my mental breakdown where I stabbed a man thirteen times in the chest. That’s an important number. ”
“Why?”
I turn to look him dead in the eyes. “Because that’s the number of men who took my virginity by force. It started as six, but as soon as they realized they had someone untouched, the rest came running to enjoy ruining me.”
He frowns. “The reports state six.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
I shrug. “Embarrassment, shame, disbelief. At some point, I blocked out what was happening. But my body wasn’t the only thing they stole.
I was a mess, in pain, broken into so many pieces, and the one place where I thought I would be protected, the two people who were meant to love me threw me back to the wolves, making me feel like I was going insane. ”
Understanding dawns on him. I can see it in his face. “Is that your only experience?”
“Until today.”
His eyes squeeze shut. “We can’t do this.”
“Why? Because I’m dirty and disgusting?”
He drops to his knees before me, plucking the mug from my hands and dropping it on the ground. His hand fists my hair at my nape to ensure I can’t escape his gaze. “You’ve suffered, sweetheart, and I can’t give you the type of loving you need and deserve.”
“We’re back to you assuming what I need? How original that a man makes assumptions about my life and future without consulting me once again.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“And you’re ridiculous. I might not have any experience of consensual sex, but I know what I fantasize about.
I know which porn I gravitate toward, and it’s not sweet.
It’s not gentle.” I lean closer. “On the surface, it doesn’t look like either of those things, not until it is, once you hand it over to someone you trust. No one has the right to judge me for wanting the things I want, so long as it’s legal and consensual.
” I brush my lips over his in a barely there, teasing kiss.
“And if I can’t find it with you, then I will with someone else. ”
He growls, fingers curling around my chin, and I wait for the rejection, for the words that will break me more than any act.
“Show me.”