Chapter 17
CAMILE
When I’ve finally managed to stop crying, I let Ghost unwrap me from the blanket and slip the borrowed shirt off my shoulders.
I don’t care if he sees me naked. I trust him completely, which is odd, as I don’t know him as well as the others.
He’s always slightly apart, holding himself back, and now I think I know why.
He’s told me that he’s also been through hell, and I will never tell anyone else. That’s between me and him.
Carefully, I step under the flow of water, the temperature set hot enough to scald them from my skin.
Ghost turns to leave, and panic flutters up inside me.
“No, stay. Please.” If I’m left alone, I’ll crack completely. “Can you… can you talk to me? While I… while I wash them off me?”
“I’m not sure I’m the best conversationalist,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle.
“Tell me about the most amazing place you’ve been.”
So, he does. He talks to me about forests and mountains, about places where vast deserts meet the ocean, and others where arid mountain ranges kiss the sky.
I scrub at my skin, hard, with a sponge.
I can’t be sure exactly where their cum landed—there was so much of it—so I scrub and scrub and scrub.
My movements grow frantic, and between the hot water and my scouring, my skin turns bright red.
I don’t even realize I’ve tuned out Ghost’s voice, lost in my own thoughts, trying to fight my brain’s determination to take me back to that moment and relive it over and over.
Hot tears stream down my cheeks, mingling in the shower water—
A hand reaches out and stills mine. I jerk my chin up to find Ghost standing in the shower with me, fully clothed.
“You’re hurting yourself,” he says softly. “Don’t.”
He pulls me in for another hug, not seeming to care that he’s getting wet, too. He takes the sponge from me, then picks up the bottle of shampoo.
He pours some into his palm. “Let me.”
I turn in his arms, and he uses his strong fingers to massage the shampoo into my hair. My eyes slip shut and the tears stop. I feel completely safe and protected here with him. There’s nothing sexual in his action, just safety.
He repeats the process with the conditioner and uses a comb to work out the knots. He puts me back under the water to rinse off.
Ghost grabs us a couple of towels. He wraps me in one and helps me out of the shower. I sit on the edge of the bath as he takes another towel and rubs my hair dry. Finally, I brush my teeth, ridding myself of any residing bad tastes.
“Did you want me to run you that bath?” he asks.
“No. I don’t want a bath.” All I can think of is my head being held in that tub of water and fighting to breathe.
If I sit in a bath, will it feel like I’m going to end up under the surface again?
I hope it’s something I will eventually get over.
I used to love taking a bath, and I’ll be gutted if I’ll never be able to take one again without having a panic attack because of fucking Ledger.
“You must be hungry. Is there anything you can eat?”
At the thought of food, my stomach roils.
“God, no, unless… maybe some chips and a glass of Coke. While we watch a trashy comedy? Will you stay?”
“I’ll stay. Are you okay to get dressed while I clean up and find some snacks?”
I remember being sick inside the doorway and grimace. “God, I’m sorry.”
He shrugs and looks like he’s about to head to the bathroom door. “Don’t be. You’re holding up remarkably well.”
“Like I say, Rook he… he made it good for me. He helped me.” I pause, not sure if I should say the next bit, but I do because it feels safe to.
“I thought of Jack and Ace. Closed my eyes and drifted far away from that sordid room.” He nods.
“And you.” I hold his gaze as his cheeks flush. “I thought of you, too, Ghost.”
He swallows and glances at the door.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to make you feel unco—”
He is beside me so fast I can’t quite process it, and he cuts my words off by tipping my chin up and taking my mouth in the gentlest, sweetest kiss I’ve ever had. If you’d told me that Ghost, terrifying, stern, hardened Ghost, could kiss like an angel, I’d have laughed in your face. But he can.
“Shit.” He steps back, looking appalled with himself. “I’m so sorry, Camile. Fuck. You’re traumatized, and I kissed you.”
I grab his hand. “Ghost, I liked it. I really liked it. It’s fine. Please, I mean it.”
“Okay. I’ll, um, I’ll go clean up.”
He slips out, and suddenly I’m alone. Ghost doesn’t get it, but right now, I want him, and Jack, and Ace, and Rook.
I want them all. I want them holding me, shielding me from the world, and yes, making me feel good, too.
I want to reclaim my body and take it back from those men.
I want to be given pleasure and touched by people I feel safe with at my own choosing.
I know, though, that none of them will do that for me right now. They’ll all think it’s fucked up.
Which means they think I’m fucked up.
Except... maybe Ace. I kind of think Ace would understand. If I ask him to sleep with me tonight, just to hold me, I bet I can seduce him.
I don’t know if I’m utterly screwed up, or if this reaction is normal, but I feel as if I’m crawling out of my own skin, and I need to take that edge off.